THE BLOG
07/10/2012 05:37 pm ET | Updated Sep 09, 2012

Is Romance Out of the Question Post-50?

Paul McCartney once confessed, "I just like being in love."

Seriously. Who the heck doesn't? I know I do. The problem is, I don't remember what that feels like anymore. The butterflies that were once flickering merrily inside my stomach when I fell in love in my youth are now just weak larvae that can't escape the cocoon. What happened to euphoria? What happened to the man who once took my breath away with one glance? What happened to holding onto the image of touching my man's whatchamacallit as I was undressing him with my eyes?

I want to be in love. I want to float on air. I don't like sex toys. (I'm pretty sure.)

I don't have that feeling of ecstasy that once made my heart bounce. Why do I miss that so much? I miss someone opening my car door for me, the slow dancing, the touching, the handholding, the foreplay... the anticipation of seeing him walk into the room in that sexy leisure suit -- holding onto that feeling of excitement -- flexing, panting, making lustful eye contact, floating on air when he simply winked at me.

Now when men my age wink, it's not because they're flirting, it's because they're having involuntary eye movements. I know I'm no prize, but that's part of my point. Can romance bloom for post-50s if there's no physical attraction, even if they smell good? Can friendship blossom into romance if there's no chemistry? Is there no chemistry because people of a certain age have to get undressed in a very dark room to avoid shock mouth?

Putting milk in the kitchen cabinet when it belongs in the refrigerator is now a sign of senility, not a sign of being so sick in love that you're not paying attention to where the milk is supposed to go.

Paul McCartney got it right. He found romance (again) when he was roughly 66, got married at 69, and now, at 70, he's clearly off the market. I'm only pointing Paul out as an example of someone I could have warmed up to romantically because I know "of" him through random media reports over the last 48 years. He seems like my type. I don't know any "regular" men my age (which is not 70, but it's not 50, either) -- or close to it -- that are available because... I just don't.

OK, Martin Short. He is totally adorable. I don't know where this little crush is coming from. One is apparently never too old to have a school girl crush. But my chances of meeting him are about one in... what's the National Debt figure now? It's a high number. (Last time I looked it was $15,894,592,869,323 and change, so that's one chance in that number.) I don't run in his circles; he doesn't live anywhere near my neighborhood (he's west coast, I'm east) so I can't borrow a cup of flour or accidently spill red wine on his black tie at some neighborhood function as an excuse to start up a conversation. He's a celebrity. I'm not. Unless you're a flight attendant or a yoga instructor, you have no chance of meeting a celebrity unless you're another celebrity. I hope no one mentions to Martin that I find him extremely attractive because that would be so embarrassing.

BTW, I hate blind dates and Internet dating sites, but I'm looking for someone with low cholesterol levels.

Moving on... I totally understand why people read romance novels. But can fantasy relationships fill the void of the real thing? It's hard to let go of "hopelessly in love" and "happily ever after." It's hard to admit that the best days of your love life are in your rearview mirror when it comes to making out in the moonlight and back seat hickeys.

Shrek and Princes Fiona are my new romantic role models. (Forget Cinderella, she's a lie.) Anybody know an attractive large green ogre who's free after dark? Or a "short" comedian who's likes drinking Pina Coladas out of a sippy cup and getting caught in the rain somewhere on the east coast?