At the last rehearsal of my barbershop quartet, Lilac Crazy (we chose that name because “we LIE like crazy!”), we were talking about some possible topics for my blog challenge. Our baritone piped up, “Write a blog about finding romance at our age. You could call it, ‘How to be arm candy after 70.'”

I immediately retorted, “Yeah, and be prepared for a lot of pain!”

My first thought, of course, focused on the cosmetic surgery that would be required to make MY face qualify for any kind of candy. Right now, it looks like a bad batch of taffy that’s been pulled once too often. But then, I had to admit that another source of pain for me, in any romantic encounter, would be elbows and knees and any part of my arthritic anatomy that might be called into action. (Hey! I’m talking about dancing!)

Our little baritone really is “arm candy.” She’s tiny (five feet tall), fair of face (thanks to one surgeon’s skill and a skin care regiment unrivaled since Cleopatra), with an exquisite shape (the result of rigorous diet and strenuous exercise.) And, I might add, she is 74 years of age! (well, actually…seventy-four a half.)

Here she is in a snapshot taken while she and her partner were executing a perfect Argentine Tango. No wonder she has so many gentlemen of various ages pursuing her.

But what about those of us who don’t have all those qualifications? I guess we’re doomed to be somebody’s “good friend with NO benefits,” and any benefits we might receive will probably be limited to an occasional assistance in getting the trash out to the curb.

When I was talking about this subject to my over-90 friend, she said she’d never heard of the term “arm candy.” I reminded her it was similar to the expression “trophy wife.” That one she knew––the term is used by men who tend to objectify woman. It seems to indicate that such women have value only as far as their looks––their YOUNG looks––are concerned.

That notion made me angry, so I proclaimed to my friend, “I have no desire to be any man’s arm candy, trophy wife, or possession of any kind. I’m happy being single!” And, I added to myself, I’m saving about $20,000! Sherm’s Tango