2006-05-06 - 10:19 p.m.

Step, shuffle, step, shuffle, flap, ball change… NO, we’re not tap-dancing, kids…we’re talking about my most recent adventures in dating the elderly.

Sandy sounded good enough on-line…but reality kicked me in the butt once again. For those of you who are as sick-to-death of my dates as I am…just press the “Snooze” button. Otherwise, here goes:

The basics: 62 years old, 6’2”, divorced, non-smoker, lives in Florida but also rents an apartment in NYC. Princeton grad, former cattle rancher, oil man, private investor, real estate venture capitalist, antiques collector. Has a line of credit at the William Doyle galleries. Loves movies, Broadway/off-Broadway shows, music, kayaking, hiking, reading, traveling, etc. Visits the city every 2-3 weeks. Has all his own hair and teeth. So, I’m thinking…winter weekends in Florida…sounds good to me.

Okay…so we meet in the lobby of my building and had plans for dinner at The Cajun, followed by Dixieland jazz featuring Eddy Davis of the Woody Allen group. When I came down, Sandy was sitting in one of the lobby armchairs…and the minute he stood up…I thought, “Oh, shit…not ANOTHER old man..!! The guy rose to a sorta semi-stoop. And it seemed to take him a few moments to get into mobility mode. So…off we go…STEP, SHUFFLE, STEP, SHUFFLE…as he scraped his geezer hooves along the sidewalk. The guy had clearly LIED about his age; he had to be 75..!! Oh…and his head was too small for his body (not exactly a pin-head…but in that realm).

He was wearing “old man jeans”…you know the kind with the waistband just inches below his man-boobs…with a tucked-in plaid shirt and a silly belt festooned with silver Santa Fe-style doo-dads. It was gonna be a VERY long night.

So we made it the THREE BLOCKS to The Cajun…and, mind you, it’s 6:30 p.m. (his suggestion)…because the music started at 8 p.m. Who eats this early??? Oh yeah, ancient Floridians who are accustomed to the “early-bird special.” Sandy kept leaning over the table to say things like, “Well, Linda…it’s too bad you live in such a BORING neighborhood.” (uh yukka-yukka-yuk). “So I guess it’s hard finding things to do here in Greenwich Village, eh?” (uh gagagagagagaga). “What can you possibly do for fun around here?” ARRRGGGH!!…I get it…you’re being facetious. Whatever. Move on.

Conversation was just your basic chow-chow…he had been married for 33 years (12 of them good..!!), three sons (with whom he did NOT have close relationships b/c of business travel, etc.)…but here are some of Sandy’s highlights:

--“I had a torrid affair after my divorce six years ago…the woman was crazy about me. So, I dumped her because I figured…if she’s crazy about me…I bet I could do better.” (Good logic...and charming date banter...Mr. Smooth!!)

“Well, I had a second steamy affair, but the woman was just not pretty enough for me.” (Yeah, Grandpa..!!)

“I’m on the boards of several organizations in Florida. I like to go to at least FOUR meetings a week.” (FYI...one of these organizations is the Kiwanis Club…the KIWANIS…wtf???)

“I’m just wild about kayaking.” (well, at least that doesn’t involve WALKING)

When the music started Sandy was tappin’ and snappin’ to the beat…his liver-spotted hands just a frenzy of rheumatoid rhythms!!

After dinner…he suggested walking around the nabe…so I steered him over to the Hudson River promenade…one of my favorite places. Well, we had walked from Jane Street down to West 11th Street (like THREE blocks..!!) when Sandy, said…"Phew…is there a ‘turn-around’ point somewhere along here?” He was sweating like a racehorse (who should be put to sleep!).

Well, he hobbled me back to my front door…and I gave him the requisite "bad-date hug" (where your bodies don't even approach touching). By now, sweat was POURING off his head, and his face was the color of an eggplant. I thought it best for me to go right upstairs before he had a seizure that might require me to spend the rest of the night in the emergency room. And that’s it, folks. That was two weeks ago…and I haven’t heard from Sandy again. In fact, from the way he looked, I’m betting NO ONE has heard from Sandy since.

I implore you, people, PLEEEZE…does ANYONE know ANYONE they can fix me up with? Just a decent guy…52-62…tall, FUNNY, smart, solvent, Manhattan-based (or in an exotic international locale), divorced or widowed (none of those weird “never-married” types), preferably with grown children. It would be nice if he could walk and/or ride a bike…without collapsing..!!

Future “Gripewater” topics coming your way…

--End of an Era - closing the Quogue shack after 23 years
--Linda Does Lucerne – A Swiss-Miss adventure-in-the-making
--Full/Queen Duvets – just not big enough, damn it..!!
--Royal Pets – from the PBS special of the same name
--Death! – ‘nuff said
--The Highline – Ed Norton and Kevin Bacon up close

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