Here’s How To Submit a Story

Meet the Author

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 15:02:04 -0400

My name is Linda Topp. I live in North Carolina and I’m writing a book. And if you’re a single woman over the age of 50, I need your help.

If you’ve found this blog, you’ve probably heard about this project from me or a friend. Here’s my plan in a nutshell: Find as many single women over the age of 50 as possible to tell me their stories of dating. I will then analyze the stories for common themes, lessons for men and women, and whatever else might be interesting to include in a book. And then I will write the book! Ta-da!

As a woman over 50, who was single for a long time before meeting my lovely husband, I know that women have experiences that are different from the dating lives of college kids, 20-somethings, 30-somethings--the ones about whom the media reports. I want to give voice to the rest of us. How do we decide whether we want to date or not? How do we meet men (or women)? What are “first dates” like? How do we decide if we want to go out again with the same person? Are we looking for marriage, or are we definitely NOT planning on getting married again? And what about sex? Do we want it, do we want to avoid it, do we want affection, do we want to follow the mores of our generation or the ones of the generations below us?

I hope you can see that YOUR story is exactly what I’m looking for!

One of my lifetime goals is to write a book that gets published (notice that I’ve kept the bar low--I’m not shooting for a “successful” book). I have written a doctoral dissertation that used qualitative research methods (Ph.D., Kent State University) and so I’m going to use what I learned while doing that to write a book that I think will be fun to work on.

I hope you will consider becoming part of the project!

You can learn more about me by reading my “first date” sample story.

See the next page to find out about the interview process.

What to Expect During an Interview

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 23:29:51 -0400

If you are willing to participate in this book by being interviewed, please contact me at womenstruestories@gmail.com. I will then set up a telephone interview time that is convenient to you.

I am interested in exploring your dating experiences as a single woman over 50. If you do not date, I’d like to know why that is true (you don’t want to, no one has asked, you would only date someone recommended by a friend, etc.). If you have dated, I’d like to know how you met, what happened on your date(s), and why you either stopped dating that person or continued. If it was difficult for you to decide on whether to date or not, I’d like to know your thinking process. And, because I’m pretty sure everyone who reads a book like this would want to know about it, what are your feelings regarding intimacy?

Here are some things you should know about the interview:
I will be taping during the interview in order to produce a transcript that I can use to find common themes and ideas across the many interviews.
If I refer to your interview in the book, I will use a made-up name for you, for any men you mention by name, and will make all locations you may mention (such as restaurants) generic as well. In other words, I will do whatever I need to do to make sure your story is anonymous.
If the book ends up being published, it is extremely likely that you will be asked to sign a release statement before your anonymous story can be used. That’s why I will ask for your address during the interview.

I may interview you several times if I discover that I didn’t ask a question that might be helpful as I analyze the interviews or write the book.

I need a fairly large number of interviews to make the book meaningful. I need women of all ages (50s, 60s, 70s, 80s--maybe I can skip 90s and 100s), and all categories of women: rich, poor, highly educated, less educated, black, white, Hispanic, lesbian. So please, please, if you are single and over 50, contact me!!!! I need you!

Linda’s First Date: Sample Story 1

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 16:40:31 -0400

When I first started this project, I thought I was going to write about women’s first dates. As I completed a few interviews, I discovered that the broader topic of women’s dating experiences made more sense. This story and Holly’s story were written as part of my earlier start, but I think they still give you a good idea of what we might talk about during an interview and how I write. (Holly’s story was written by Holly but edited by me for this website.)
How did you meet?
Our first date was a blind date—we were set up by a mutual friend, who by the way, had no further agenda than to put two people together who hadn’t been dating lately. She did not “push” or “sell” a relationship.

Where did you go?
We went to a very nice, very upscale restaurant.

What happened?
As noted, I had not been dating lately. I had been single most of my life (a 4-year marriage in my early 30s) and never did get the hang of dating. As all my friends will attest, I am a fine human being and they found it inexplicable that I remained single for so long. I was especially pitiful at “first dates.”
After much self-analysis, I decided that I was perfectly happy with who I am (more or less) but that some of my favorite traits—assertive, quick-witted, highly verbal (and possibly blunt if you ask my brothers which you shouldn’t do)—were not necessarily best-selling traits on the dating circuit. It was also excruciatingly obvious that when I got nervous, which invariably happened on a first date, I came across as even MORE assertive and quick-witted. So, I had a simple goal for this date: get a second one if the guy was at all “normal” (and you know what I mean so stop sniggering). And, my strategy for doing that was to try very hard to rein in those more aggressive traits and be a sweet listener—which I can also be but let’s face it, it’s not my leading persona.

Other things you need to know about me:
1. I grew up in a family of 5 kids, my father owned a neighborhood tavern and I was working in a church. From this you can correctly surmise that I never had much money, had never traveled internationally and rarely ate out at places more sophisticated than Applebee’s. Sort of a well-educated (a Ph.D. for heaven’s sake) suburban bumpkin.
2. At the time of this date, I rarely drank alcohol. (No point in spending money and calories on THAT!)

So, the date begins. I am watching out the window as Jim pulls up to my apartment in his snappy BMW convertible (say, my friend didn’t mention this highlight). Uh oh, he’s bald—another surprise. He’s carrying a plant, a beautiful ruby red gloxinia. Nice touch, even if I will most likely kill it (never have been that good at keeping houseplants alive).
As we walk down to his car, he politely notes that he will put the convertible top up if I want him to. I say truthfully, “Just look at my hair now and notice that it looks good. Then we can ride with the top down.” Wouldn’t want to pass up THAT chance.
At the restaurant, things went well. Very well. Rarely in my life had I been in such a nice restaurant. This was the good news and the bad news. I was loving every minute of it. I was feeling a little out of my element (a little??!?). Sure, I’ll have a Kir Royal (whatever that is). (I was beginning to feel like Barbra Streisand in the scene from Funny Girl where Omar Sharif takes Fanny Brice to her first nice restaurant.) “Oh, champagne with some raspberry liqueur in it? I drink it all day.” (OK, so now I know that crème de cassis, the red stuff in the champagne, is a black-currant liqueur.)
We ordered our meals, with only a little translation help from my date and the waitstaff, and even ordered dessert right away because, apparently, one needs extra time to make a chocolate soufflé (I always thought a soufflé was an egg dish—a chocolate egg thing?).
So, the date continues. I never met a talkative guy before. This is new. And therefore, it is easy to be the Sweet Listener of my plans. I’m having a little trouble deciding whether he’s a complete show-off or simply clueless about how it sounds to others when all his stories are about places like Paris, London, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Stockholm, San Francisco, Seattle, Charleston—all places I would love to visit, mind you, but this does make him sound a bit of a braggart. Still, he is definitely interesting. So now all I have to do is get a second date.
It’s about halftime of the date and I need to visit the restroom. As I stand up, I discover that I am definitely under the influence of alcohol. That sneaky waiter kept refilling my wine glass every time I took a sip so I have no idea how much I’ve had. On the one hand, it couldn’t be too much, as we only ordered one bottle of wine, Jim’s been drinking too, and it’s not gone yet. On the other hand, I never drink wine. Uh, oh. Walk straight…walk straight…walk straight.
While in the ladies’ room, I decide that Jim is interesting but that if I’m going to keep going out with him, I better find out exactly where he stands politically and religiously. I can’t tolerate extremism in any form, so we might as well get that sorted out now. (Please note that alcohol affects judgment; where did the Sweet Listener strategy go?).
So, I march back to the table (being very careful to walk straight), sit down, and say, “So, what are your politics and what’s your religion?” (Another note, don’t try this yourself.)(I suppose you now have your own ideas as to why I had trouble getting second dates.)
This kind man only looks slightly taken aback and proceeds to carefully and thoughtfully address my concerns. So now, I am satisfied and only have to figure out how to get that second date.
Then a miracle happens. Jim comes right out and says, “I’m going to a graduation dinner-dance next Saturday for my current students (he’s a professor) and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” By this time, with more food and no more alcohol in my system, I manage to keep the “WOO-HOO oh baby!” to myself and graciously accept his invitation.
The date ended with a walk along the river (no more drinking, thanks) and a top-down ride back to my apartment—with a plan for the next date.

Why is it memorable?
The restaurant was fantastic, the guy was interesting, and of course, getting that second date was big.

What did you learn?
If I’m drinking it takes less than two hours to ditch the Sweet Listener strategy.

Is there any follow-up you’d like to mention?
The plant died due to dereliction of duty and a cat accident.
I married Jim 366 days later. (It turns out he’s clueless that he sounds like he’s bragging.)
I’m much better at holding my liquor these days.
I’ve traveled to lots of places in the U.S., Europe and Asia since we met, including all the ones listed—and they’re all delightful.

Holly’s First Date: Sample Story 2

Sun, 17 Aug 2008 23:22:23 -0400

Well, after seven years of being single and dating a few men I decided that if I really wanted someone in my life I would need to get serious about looking. So, I signed on with a very famous online dating service and began the process of not only describing myself but also describing in-depth the person I wanted to date. That was difficult enough but then began the process of matching, actually communicating and then having a ‘first’ coffee and perhaps date. My criteria were simple: honest, within my age range (55-65); interesting; international traveler; educated; really “regular’ stuff. So off I went…..
I met Craig at a diner for coffee, nice man, 59 he said, very tall, retired Army officer, widower, quiet, but engaging in thoughtful conversation, so we agreed to a dinner date. He telephoned a few times, asked what kind of flowers I liked and made a reservation at an upscale restaurant in our area—all positive signs…or so I thought. I was struck by his “old-fashioned” and welcome courtesy; he said it was the result of his military background, which I’m sure was true.
The night of our date it was raining very hard, pouring was more like it. I had my front door open thinking it would be easier for Craig to find my house in the dark, in the rain. Since I was standing in the lighted doorway, I saw that he drove up and down the street several times, window open, looking for my house. I thought he must be very nervous not to see me standing there but I didn’t think more about it. He tried to pull into the parking space in front of the townhouse but somehow couldn’t manage it and parked around the corner. He arrived with flowers in hand, a bit damp but ready to go to dinner.
The rain continued to pour—sheets of rain—and then, without explanation, Craig kept the window on the driver’s side open and the defogger off (please tell me it’s broken!). Of course, the windows were nearly opaque and Craig drove to the restaurant like my 85-year old father – we were going so slow I’m surprised no one honked at us. Fortunately, we didn’t have too far to go and we arrived at the restaurant safely. He pulled in next to valet parking and I thought all was well. Well not so much, as it turned out. He did drop me off but then he pulled away to park the car himself. I couldn’t believe it.
He arrived in the restaurant without an umbrella. (Hello, do you understand what valet parking means?) So there he stood, 6’ 5” totally soaked to the skin, with raindrops dripping off his nose! I suggested he might want to go to the men’s room to dry off but he said “no” he was ready to be seated. So there we went, the 5’2” nicely dressed woman with the tall raindrop. As we walked across the entire restaurant with Craig dripping along the way, waiters stopped to stare while I tried my best to be gracious, nodding “good evening” as we passed by and pretending the person following me was perfectly okay. When we arrived at our booth, Craig insisted that he sit next to me for dinner (is he kidding?) so I sat through the first part of dinner with an increasingly wet left side. The story doesn’t end there however…we continued….
As we ordered dinner we chatted a bit about ourselves and talked about our families, a regular opening date conversation. I asked something about his likes and dislikes and he replied, “We have plenty of time to talk about that when we’re married.”
MARRIED??? Jokingly I replied, “You haven’t even met my mother yet!”
Craig continued, “Well, I know everything I need to know about you and I figure we’ll be married within the year.”
Trying to be polite I changed the subject but thought, “I don’t think this is the guy for me.”
As we continued to eat our meal Craig began to choke on some lobster. He was coughing and spitting up food…I was asking if he could talk…his face was turning blue…the waiters were ready for the Heimlich maneuver or CPR, whichever was needed first… and everyone else in the entire room was either staring at the spectacle or checking if we needed help. Unbelievably, this lasted for about thirty minutes! Craig kept hacking and coughing and gasping for air while people hovered around us and I kept thinking, “Is it time to call 911? “
Between gagging fits, Craig insisted multiple times that he was fine and that we should continue the meal. He also added that we would not leave until I finished my dinner. At first, I thought this was just some polite way to sort of normalize the situation, but it eventually occurred to me that he totally meant what he said. So, though the environment was hardly appetizing as he continued to hack, gag, cough and turn various shades of red, I ate my whole darn meal.
Walking out to the car, Craig continued to experience problems and began to get into the driver’s side. I insisted he give me his car keys and tell me where he lived—I was ready to drive him either to the emergency room or home, then call his family to make sure someone knew what was going on. He gave me the keys but refused to tell me where he lived. (I am not making this up!)
So I drove him to my house. He came inside and in about an hour he was able to breathe normally and talk. As he left for home (wherever that was), I asked him to call me when he arrived safely, which he did about two hours later. He also asked me to consider having another date with him and not to “hold tonight against him.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I admit I was relieved that he was finally okay so I told him we would talk again. I felt very sorry for him because he was so embarrassed by his illness in the restaurant.
The end of the story is, no, I didn’t go out with him again but not because he got sick. It was because of the “instant marriage” proposal, a very strong feeling he was closer to 79 than 59, and several varieties of poor decision-making. (For some reason the men I dated from that “famous” online dating website thought they knew everything they needed to know about me from the matching process. I thought that was barely a beginning “get acquainted” activity with a lot more time and effort needed to know one another before we ever discussed marriage.)
In all the dates I’ve had, I have to say if one would qualify as the proverbial “date from hell” this would be it. Never before or since have so many elements come together to make such an unfortunate and unforgettable date!