There’s No Place Like Home… on a Vacation
My GF and I are going on a vacation together for the first time as a couple. We’re in our mid-sixties. Both of us are thinking that this vacation could really be important for our relationship to see how we get along for 10 days in a new place, just the two of us. What do you think?
Thanks so much,
TEN DAYS? I think you’re cray, cray. Ten days could fly by or feel like twenty-four-hundred hours in purgatory. Since this is your first vacation together, I highly recommend three days. A starter-kit trip, not an Ernest Shackleton-type expedition, to see if you get along.
Starting to feel a little sweaty and itchy at the thought of ten days? I am. The destination will be critical, so pick one with endless tourist attractions to keep you busy. No time to stare into her eyes thinking, “I miss the dog.” Just stay in motion and you have a chance — at least for those first three days. After that, call for backup.
Remember, because you’re both in your sixties, to pick a place with a reputable hospital or get medevac insurance. At least be realistic about something!
“Hello, I Must Be Going”
I’m considering “speed dating.” It’s where prospective partners sit at a table across from one another, exchange info for 4 minutes, then move onto the next prospective partner. They say sparks can fly.
I’m 61, divorced, and I’ll try anything at this point. At least, unlike online dating, you actually get to meet your prospective date/partner, which potentially saves you from a wasted evening. Thoughts on this kind of dating?
AND THEY’RE OFF! Go for it, girl. It’s like the Groucho Marx lightning-round of dating: “Hello, I must be going.” Why spend endless days and hours rummaging through profiles of men. Get it on, or over, in four minutes.
I’ve known it’s a no-go from across a parking lot. As soon as my online man got out of his car, I knew he lied about his height, age, and weight. His profile answers were not a wish list. In speed dating, you see the guy in the flesh and can move on in the blink of an eye. No planning an escape route after appetizers. It’s much simpler than crawling out the bathroom window, or the “emergency” call from your mother that she’s going after her cat on the roof.
Darlin’, go for it and if one lone spark makes its way across the table, you won the lightning round!
Need advice? Gail wants to hear from you. Send your letters, questions, and quandaries to: email@example.com