Finding ‘The One’.

It happened.

I have finally found ‘the one’. A girl waits a lifetime for this moment.

He is everything I am looking for in a man: charming, charismatic, cynical, well-travelled, slightly arrogant, but deep and soul searching. He asks me questions that make me think. Plus, he owns a boat. Dream scenario, right?

Incorrect. It has never been that straight forward with me.

Unfortunately the love of my life is trapped in the body of a 60 year old man. True.

This is a tragedy far worse than Romeo and Juliet, the only thing tearing them apart was feuding families. Working against me in this situation is 1.5 generations and wrinkly skin!

And this is not the first time I have grown fond of someone inappropriate. There was Mike- the slinky enthusiast with missing two front teeth, there was Liam; the cockney drug-peddler who had me running down dark alleys, hiding from a knife gang on our first date… not to mention the conceited, midget-Italian who went by the nickname ‘Mommie’.

The list goes on.

I first encountered the old sea dog at a cosy café on the Northern Beaches. I served him coffee, he made cynical jokes about small children. It was fate.

Naturally, I discussed my ‘old man dilemma’ with friends and acquaintances within a 100m radius. The general consensus has been “If you get along that well, age should be no barrier, plus think of the life insurance.” Good point. But it was the lady that waxes my cha-cha who put it in perspective. Sure, her life revolves around ripping the hair off the naughty bits of many women in Manly, but her 3 inch synthetic nails and un-shakeable enthusiasm for Eurovision suggests a more ‘worldly’ wisdom.

Her advice (in her beautiful dialect) was: “Fuck no! Think of his saggy balls”.

This did get me thinking about his saggy balls, the waxer was right. It doesn’t matter that he makes me laugh or that we can talk endlessly, the thought of his pubes being more salt than pepper is too much for me to get my head around, let alone my legs.

Thus, our relationship is destined to remain a Scarlett Johanson/Bill Murray mutual appreciation, and I will investigate the possibility of him having a son… or grandson.

Dorothy Gray