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Single again

The human need for companionship survives the loss of a spouse. Whether wading back into the dating pool or looking for a friend, older adults are reaching out.

By ADELE WOODYARD
Published May 30, 2006

Even when you're prepared, it can come as a shock. Whether through death or divorce, all the years of togetherness are suddenly over. The house is empty, the kids grown and gone. Once again you're single, and though a new life beckons, you're not sure you want to go there - or how to begin.

"Humans are, in varying degrees, social animals,'' says Edith Kemp, a 66-year-old psychotherapist who with her husband has written a book on finding romance late in life.

"After a period of grieving after a death or divorce,'' Kemp said, "the older adult may go into the community to find companionship, through the church, interest groups, etc. Not all want to form another intimate relationship, even after the grieving is over: They may no longer trust the opposite sex, or think they should not replace a deceased spouse.

"But many long for someone to be their special person; to be able to share their daily lives and thoughts. And so importantly, to be held and lovingly touched.''

Still, taking that first step to reach out again can be emotional.

"It wasn't easy," said Barbara Hartley, 58, of Palm Harbor. The words tumbled out: how after four children, four grandchildren and 30 years of marriage, her husband asked for a divorce and she "never saw it coming."

The split became final in June 1997. Though she knew she needed to make new friends, it took about eight months for this native of St. Louis, Mo., to join the Upper Pinellas Singles Club.

"I'd heard about it from a neighbor," she said, "so I went - and felt miserable. Cried all the way home."

But she did return to the group, which meets every Tuesday evening at First United Methodist Church in Dunedin. Members share day trips, cruises and house parties or just sit and talk at the club's weekly catered dinners.

Hartley, who has been a telemarketer for six years, found it easier to make "some wonderful friends" in the club than to find a job.

"When you've been a stay-at-home wife and mother, married right after high school," she said, "you don't have any skills."

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As the St. Petersburg Times reported last month, there are about three times as many over-65 women as men in the Tampa Bay area.

Here are the major elements of the singles scene included in that report:

-- Nationally, 7 percent of older men and 8.6 percent of older women were divorced and had not remarried.

-- The gap for life expectancy, which had favored women by five years, is narrowing.

-- "The shortage of available older men is even more pronounced among widows," the Times reported. "There are four widowed women in Tampa Bay for every widowed man.''

-- "Older women who divorce or are widowed don't remarry as fast as their male counterparts.''

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Linda Gatewood, 58 and twice-divorced, has maintained a sense of humor about her search for companionship. The special education teacher at a Tampa middle school laughed as she described her well-traveled road to romance.

Most recently, "I went to a potluck dinner put on by the Lake Magdalene United Methodist Church singles group, for over-50s. It was in a private home, the food was great, and not a male in sight except the dog, who wanted to get up on my lap."

She added with a laugh, "If I can attract dogs, why can't I attract a decent man?"

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Companionship is part of human nature, and though it can be financially difficult for suddenly single older women who have depended on their husbands to be the major income earners, professor Sandra Reynolds believes losing a spouse can be worse for widowers.

Reynolds, an associate professor in the School of Aging Studies at the University of South Florida, said, "Women are the 'kin-keepers': the ones who write the Christmas cards, keep in touch with family, buy the presents for the grandkids."

Some men may struggle to maintain relationships with people who don't live nearby.

When Reynolds heard of a recent widower who was trying to write a story about his late wife, she said, "That's very good. Whether it's written, or even just thought about, one's life history is what psychologists call ego integrity vs. despair."

----

Shortly after his wife died on Thanksgiving Day 1996, Long Island native Al Martin moved to Tarpon Springs. "We'd been married 33 years," he said, "and I needed to meet people. Maybe I was looking for a girlfriend."

After trying a small singles group that didn't last, he, too, joined the Upper Pinellas Singles Club. Martin, now 66 and a driver for Enterprise Rental Cars, has served as president for the past two of the 16 years the club has existed.

He talks of the good friends he has made, a neighbor he has been romantically involved with for four years. "I miss my wife, but I like my freedom," Martin said. "I have to have my own life, and don't want to be living my kids' (a son and two daughters), though my one daughter would like me to be back in New York."

----

Audrey Lawler, an "over 65" widow from Tampa, concedes it takes a bit of courage to go back to the dating game after so many years of being attached.

"When I first started putting an ad in the newspaper," she said in an e-mail, "I was really naive . . . invited one gentleman to my house for coffee for a first meeting." When he warned her about inviting people she didn't know to her house, she never did that again.

"He was a really nice guy," Lawler said, but "unfortunately not 'the one.' But as we used to say back in the olden days, 'Men are like streetcars; If you miss one, there'll be another along in a minute.' ''

She would probably get a second on that from Hartley. After dating "terrible men who don't care if they even know your name before trying to jump into bed," Hartley met a special man through a neighbor. Because they got along well but lived some distance apart, they decided it would be more economical to share a home. "Never thought as a good Catholic girl," she said softly, "I'd be saying something like that."

Although Hartley says she would rather have stayed married and admits she still gets lonely, she also likes being independent. Her mantra: "Stay healthy and you can do anything."

Adele Woodyard is a freelance writer living in Tarpon Springs.

[Last modified May 30, 2006, 07:40:12]