Presenting

82 | GRAVITAS MAGAZINE GravitasMag.com THE LAST LAUGH n the last issue, I shared my amusing first date in over a decade after my recent divorce. For those who missed the story, it involved an attractive doctor in Naples with an unexpected affinity for dip, (no, that is not a typo. e kind of dip men put in their mouth and spit in a cup gross) and his waterfront home filled with dead animals nailed to the walls. It was not pretty, but it certainly was entertaining. Women of all ages apparently loved the story, so, I thought I would continue to share my observations, out here, in the new middle-age world of dating. First of all, let me just tell you that the single scene in Sarasota is not exactly, Sex in the City. My reality is decidedly less populated with hunkie cougar bait, much less exciting and quite a bit less sexy. Mid-life in Florida — this is my world. My life also bears little resemblance to the adorable picture of Cougar Town's Courteney Cox in her cul-de-sac bantering with her comical collection of quirky neighbors and super hot boyfriend. Ironically, her character's name is Jules, and I also live on a picturesque cul-de sac in Sarasota, but that is where our similarities end. My collection of neighbors consists of a fellow divorcee who apparently doesn't like fresh air, because she and her child are rarely seen outdoors. en there's a family of well-off hoarders who purchased a second home two doors over when their piles of stuff overwhelmed their first home. ey walked to their new furnished home and left the other one, sitting there, as is. An expensive storage solution, but who am I to judge? ey keep the grass cut and put the lights on timers. It's a four-bedroom, three-bath lakefront POD. Next, I have a family of quiet, over-protective parents who rarely let their timid children outside without a helmet. A stark contrast to my boys, who think the cul-de-dac is their own personal sports arena and helmets are only for girls. To finish out my ensemble, I have a retired social worker/60s radical who sleeps all day and scours the internet all night researching conspiracy theories and looking for a second home at high elevation in preparation for the seas rising. You never know, I might need a hideout in the mountains someday. She does have some compelling facts and a nice wine collection. Who am I to judge? I do think one of my gentlemen neighbors has a crush on me; unfortunately he is 82 years old. It doesn't stop him though; he somehow always manages to "magically" appear when I walk my dog at night. He pops out of the darkness with his perfectly-mannered bijon, interesting conversation and a compliment. A fabulous benefit to living in an upscale retiree paradise is the fact that, at 45, I am practically pubescent. People actually say to me, "oh, you're just a kid." And yet, on the other side of town in college central, where we have a cluster of colleges, I am the elder. at is the paradox of Sarasota. We have loads of millennials and legions of retirees, but for us 30-50 somethings, it's a narrow field. Another shocking report from mid-life single land is the progress sex toys have made in recent years. I say this only as a curious observer. While I may fit the profile of a potential client, e.g., single woman, I am a bit afraid of the new technologically advanced, well thought out, creative apparatuses on the market today. No man could possibly live up to this creation of ecstasy; it's anatomically impossible. If we can replace men with an appliance and we can already produce a baby in a tube, this could be the end of mankind. For this reason, I am toyless at the moment. Apparently, I'm already setting the bar rather high. I still live in hope that a single, brilliant, kind, cute man with a funny side that makes me giggle and impressive talents in the bedroom, as well as the boardroom, really does exist. He's kind of like Sasquatch at this point. Somebody said they actually met one, but most women disagree. ey think they are all false sightings. After all, how many "false sightings" have you had? Nevertheless, I optimistically march on, in hope that Mr. Wonderful will someday cross my path and he will not require batteries. Happy Trails, False Sightings Written By Jules Lewis Gibson Illustration Maria Laureno I Subscribe to GRAVITAS and visit us online at GravitasMag.com

• Cover