Baby Boomer Diary: From the Desk of
Betsy Boomer

First, a confession, fellow Baby Boomer types.

Betsy Boomer isn't my real name. You probably guessed that, right?

I live in small town Ontario (mining town revamped as a would-be retirement community), and I want to preserve my anonymity (notice I didn't say privacy).

I mean, what if I get so famous from writing this diary that I can't walk into Tim Horton's without being mobbed by slathering over-50 Adonises (Adoni?).

My policy is always to start worrying about these things before they actually happen.

So this is my diary.

I'm single, (well) over 40, and, let's lay it on the table, resent being referred to as a "Senior Dater". Just lock me in a room for 5 minutes with the Ad Exec who came up with that one.

I believe you should wear miniskirts after 35, if you want to. Who cares if you don't have the legs for it? Have you seen some of the muffin tops spilling over the waistbands of young girls these days?

Miniskirts on aged over 40s are the least of the fashion police's worries.

I think George Clooney (you notice no one calls him a "senior dater") is dreamy, but wouldn't want to date him. He's a modelizer, darlings. And what self-respecting woman would want to date someone prettier than she is?

So that leaves...er. Keanu Reeves?

On a more realistic note, the single male pickings in this town aren't bad, but aren't fabulous either. Think Wayne's World meets Golden Girls. Mullets and flannel shirts. Baseball caps and old man jeans. Everyone drives a big truck.

I'm thinking of signing up to an online dating service, but most of them seem to think any single male living within a 2 hour drive of my town is "local".

Which makes popping out for a quick introductory coffee a bit of a production, yes?

What's a picky, single baby boomer girl to do?

So, what do you have to say to that, eh?

Go on, you know you want to...