ONLINE DATING: OUR STORY

The GreenSingles.com ad was directed at “progressive singles” such as environmentalists, vegetarians, religious liberals, and others with similar views. It promised to bring people together for companionship, friendship, even marriage. Online dating had never appealed to me, but this ad in my church magazine, the UU World, sounded good. After a few years of being a widow, I was tired of spending all my time with women friends or alone. I had no desire to remarry, but wanted to have a male companion in my life—someone with whom I could go to movies, talk, and walk along the Bay shore. I had tried the usual suggestions (join a church, be active in the community, etc.), but had met no one remotely interesting. It was time to be more adventurous. Friends warned me about the awful men I might meet online. But they also told me not to be too particular at my age—just to look for someone who was single, solvent, and sober!

At first, using online dating seemed like a mistake. When a few weirdoes responded to my ad I was glad my real name and address were safely hidden. Some other connections petered out quickly when we found no common interests. Just as I decided to give up, I got a message from a retired teacher living on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, 150 miles away from me. He was interested in the environment, and had been building his own solar-powered home (off the grid) for many years. We had a couple of phone conversations, then decided we should meet for lunch. (Neither of us would be committed to anything, and we would at least have eaten lunch.)

I took the train to Sacramento, a neutral and public meeting place. A man waiting on the platform introduced himself as Thane, and we eyed each other a little warily, both wondering what we were getting into. Then we strolled through the streets of Old Sacramento, had lunch, and talked. He was the sort of person I had expected from the Green Singles ad. Perhaps too much so: He was a vegetarian, I sometimes ate meat; he hated city life, I enjoyed it; he never drank alcohol, I greatly enjoyed my daily glass or two of wine. More promisingly, we were both strongly committed to preserving the natural environment. He was several years younger than I, making me glad I had shaved a couple of years from my age for my ad. He showed me photos of the house he had designed and built, a simple chalet situated to maximize exposure to the sun. When lunch ended and the waiter brought some change, we both sprang for the quarters, and realized we were both collecting the commemorative state quarters. It was a start.

In the next few weeks, we talked on the phone several times, then agreed to meet again, this time in Auburn, in the Gold Rush country. We had a pleasant picnic and walked, discovering our mutual love of museums.  More meetings followed.

Finally, we visited each other’s homes. They were a contrast: I had lived for 20 years in Alameda, a city on San Francisco Bay. My house was a large 1905 Craftsman on the border of the city’s Gold Coast. I was proud of it, though as an impoverished widow I knew I would have to sell it before long. Thane’s was the solar home he had described to me. The view from the porch was breathtaking—we could look for miles across a valley filled with pines and oaks. Though it was not far from a road, no other house was visible, as the property was surrounded by the El Dorado National Forest. I hadn’t realized the house was still unfinished inside, and that the solar-powered batteries were minimal. If we wanted to watch TV in the evening, we had to use all the electricity for that. (If the day had been cloudy, he had to run a gasoline generator to charge the batteries.) We both greatly enjoyed playing Scrabble, fortunately—we could usually see well enough for that. Without the wi-fi and cell towers I was used to, my computer and cell phone were useless. A propane lantern hanging on the wall was the main source of light for reading during cloudy times. The fridge was small and used propane.

I began to realize that Thane was very eccentric, even by environmentalist standards. He lit additional burners with a used kitchen match, drove to the nearby town as seldom as possible, refused to buy any but the simplest carpentry tools. If he needed three screws for a project, he bought three screws, not a package. And yet, he bought organic foods that were more expensive than anything I was used to. Was this going to be a disaster?

We went through about a year of traveling back and forth and getting to know each other’s foibles. (I have my own idiosyncrasies, too.) Meanwhile, I decided to sell my home and buy an RV. Thane helped me choose the Winnebago View we now use.  (When I finally decided to live with him, my friends pointed out that if it didn’t work out, I could just jump into the RV and leave!) We became closer and closer, and made some compromises.

I finally moved to Thane’s house and have helped him make many improvements. It is still not completely finished, but traveling in the RV has seemed more important, and the house is now very comfortable for when we are at home. I am amazed to realize that I seldom miss Alameda.

Marriage has not been an option for us, for a variety of reasons, but we have now lived together for more than six years. Like all couples, we have our ups and downs. Still, we are both happier than we had been for a long time, and we hope to grow truly old together. Online dating has been wonderful for us.