When I was a divorced woman in my 40s, an infamous "study" came out of the ether, correlated by men. It snarkily stated that a single woman my age had less chance of getting married than being hijacked.
This was one of those false urban myths that spread all over the place even before there was a Huffpost or a Facebook. It was obviously outrageous, and yet it provided cover for those many of us late-daters who didn't marry. So we talked it up and many of us sighed and gave up hope of getting beyond the superficial.
As crazy as it sounded, in the back of my mind, as I plunged over and over into the cold, rough waters of mature dating, I kind of believed that the outrageous myth might be true. Getting hitched for me and my seasoned friends seemed all but hopeless, especially if our standards were higher than "mammal." Hell, even getting a commitment for a serious relationship was a bummer.
But years passed, and when I was a surprisingly still-prime 56 -- something I didn't think much about when I was 40 -- I met and married a wonderful man, and I realized how ridiculous that hijack myth really was. I'd known this man I would marry for years, so the impulsive scramble of sizing someone up on a couple of internet dates was absent. That helped. Lots.
And a few years after my lovely husband died, I married another wonderful man. I met him on a blind date, set up by a friend.
And this time I was 67. And this time I wasn't surprised.
Today, in a world of multiple internet sites and cougar culture, where women are often independent breadwinners, gals are marrying at all ages -- marrying up, down, same gender, younger, older and way younger and older. Or maybe, choosing not to. It's all good.
And while the odds of marrying after 50 may be less than they are in your 20s, thanks to the wonders of the internet and Botox and treadmills and pilates and the loosening of single stigmas, the odds of dating and having sexy fun over 50 -- if you want to -- are sky high. (With, truthfully, about as much chance of never happening as being hijacked.)
Here's the thing. Don't worry about it. Appreciate every day. Friends are fabulous. Family can be too. And desperation is like poo on your shoe: You can smell it even if it isn't in your face.
Relax, enjoy your life, take girl-getaways, buy the good stuff, tweeze those chin hairs and laugh as much as you can. And if you find someone compatible and he (or she) is kind and loves you at least as much as you love him or her, you too might decide to get happily hitched in your 50s or later, even if you're wearing way-way-off white and sensible Choos.
Then again, you might not want to marry. It's your choice.
But I assure you, girlfriend, it's definitely a possibility.