Sixty eight, typing with one finger, and in no hurry whatsoever
- Looking for
- correspondence first, at length, and a coffee eventually
- Experience
- Thirty years of this, most of it before anybody had a phone.
- Around
- the north shore, Sydney
I type with one finger and I am not embarrassed about it. What that means in practice is that a message which takes you a minute takes me twenty, so I do not send many, and the ones I send are considered. I have been told this makes me seem serious. It mostly makes me slow.
Sixty eight, the north shore, widowed four years ago, and this was part of my marriage for twenty six of the thirty one years it lasted. My wife and I found our way into it long before any of this existed on a phone, through letters and then through a great deal of talking, and I am aware that the method has aged.
What I want is a long correspondence with somebody who also enjoys writing, and eventually a coffee somewhere public in the middle of the day. I go both ways and always have, and at my age I have finally stopped explaining that to people.
I am healthy, I am busy, I have grandchildren and a garden and too many opinions. I am not lonely in the way people assume somebody my age must be. I miss a specific thing rather than company in general.
Not looking for anybody who finds my age remarkable and says so, which happens roughly weekly. Not looking to be somebody's curiosity. Not looking for anything that needs to be arranged this month, because I have time and I intend to use it.