‘I’m 82 and looking for a date; I’ve got my own hair and teeth – so why do I feel so ignored?’

Rachel Johnson advises a widower who’s full of vim but preyed on by scammers, and a 40-year-old with body image issues

Dear Rachel

QAfter nearly 60 years of marriage, my wife died of bowel cancer 15 months ago. I ministered to all her needs and, as was her wish, she died in our marital bed. Prior to her rapid decline, she was an attractive size 10 with many talents.

I now find that at 82, society – by which I mean car insurance companies and so on but more importantly dating sites – has effectively written me off. The first thing one inputs is one’s birthday and at that point, one appears to be the target of excess insurance and dating site scammers. Perhaps wrongly, I believe that the assumption made is of a decrepit, bent old man with many ailments. In fact, I have never had a serious illness, have all my own teeth and hair and following MRI and CT scans I have no issues at all with my health. Many of my much younger acquaintances between 60 and 75 have lost their hair or have had knee or hip replacements, stents or heart pumps so I count myself very lucky. Do you or your colleagues have any advice as to a suitable dating site for a “youngish” person in their 80s?

— CB

Dear CB

AYou bet I do! Your ship has come in! Spring has sprung, sumer is icumen in and it’s so reassuring to hear that the sap is still rising in one of my 82-years-young readers. There’s nothing I like more than being a midwife to a mid-life romance. In fact, when I was “sat” in the chair in the salon in London’s Wells Street last week, while King of the Cool Cuts George Northwood was giving me what he calls my “summer shag”, I was tap-tapping on my phone to set up a couple of homosexual friends – one of whom told me I was a “typical Jewish mother”. He’s right! I’m sadly not a member of the chosen people (only 15 per cent Ashkenazi) but I can’t see a single Pringle without wondering whom I can commingle them with.

You say you are 82. May I remind you that women are generally less lookist and ageist than men, and regard assets such as teeth, hair, working equipment, efficient plumbing, joints and tickers and so on as bonuses rather than dealbreakers. Aren’t you the lucky ones?

I would further note that Rupert Murdoch – in his 90s – is tying the knot again with a dewy younger bride in her 60s this summer, so for the billionaire of the species especially, age is just a number. You complain that at your age you are the target for scammers when it comes to both insurance and dating sites. Only the other day, I was reading about an 80-year-old woman in Poland who allegedly drugged and then robbed a string of senior citizen suitors she met through newspaper lonely hearts adverts, sprinkling a sedative on to her dates’ dinners and relieving them of cash and valuables as they slept.

Of course you can’t weed out all the wrong ’uns, but I would direct you to the back end of the fragrant magazine The Lady. When I was its editor, we introduced personal ads as a complement to our legendary small ads for nannies, cottages, ladies’ maids, housekeepers, cooks-general, butlers and so forth. The Guardian’s Soulmates column closed in 2020 – newspapers struggle to compete with the cheap and immediate apps – but Our Lady elegantly sails on. In fact, my current copy of the magazine is open at the relevant pages now and I can see that an Oxfordshire lady, slim, early 70s, privately educated and “still snazzy in her 70s”, WLTM a country gentleman to enjoy the future with. What are you waiting for? I can hear the cuckoo calling as I write.

Dear Rachel

QI just turned 40 and am experiencing something I never thought I would. The prospect of death has never bothered me; I’ve been OK with knowing this is a thing that will happen to me. However, now I’m 40, I’m feeling the walls closing in.

I’ve always been very shy about my body in relation to sex. This stems from early childhood trauma, though I feel like I’ve mostly come to terms with and begun healing from this.

My question, though, is this. Since I want to put myself out there and have the sexual experiences I was always too insecure for in my younger years, how do I force myself just to get naked and not panic and bolt? I know as a man I still have many viable sexual years ahead; but in the homosexual community, 40 may as well be 400: the belly isn’t going anywhere and gravity is starting to show me who’s boss, leaving me feeling more self-conscious than ever. Any advice is welcomed.

— Anon

Dear Anon

AGoodness. I have to say I am flattered you ask me as I am not your demographic or your blood group or your tribe or whatever and don’t have a homosexual son. But if you were my son, this is what I would say. Please, please don’t fixate on your physical appearance so much that you can’t enjoy your life, or your body. I know: easier said than done; and if you do suffer from body dysmorphia rather

Remember that sex is 90 per cent enthusiasm and 10 per cent everything else

than the usual degree of mild selfdisgust and despair inherent in being a self-critical human adult, then you should “see someone” – that is, seek some professional counselling. But for now, my trusty therapist Sophie Haggard is well up to speed with the sort of help you might get, so brace yourself.

She tells me there is such a thing as “surrogate partners”. These are not prostitutes (I wrote about sex workers in my last column) but sort-of-therapists who help people with injuries, disability, trauma, low self-esteem or those who are transitioning/have transitioned to become less anxious sexually. “It doesn’t involve having sex but it does (I think) involve being naked and touching. It’s obviously big in California but there must be practitioners here,” she says. Obviously such services will not be free, unless you can find a friend who will help you overcome these insecurities.

“A combination of work with a psychosexual therapist from a psychodynamic background who can work with all aspects of his presentation – such as childhood trauma/ messages around sexuality/self-esteem/body image – and a surrogate might be just what this person needs. I find this letter really touching and it’s convinced me that there’s a place for surrogate partners,” she continues.

I would add: have you tried watching Naked Attraction on Channel Four, or been to any nudist beaches? The presentation and acceptance of all body shapes – and genitalia – should be reassuring. As a 40-year-old gay man you are perhaps more body-conscious than some others your age but I’ll bet my bottom dollar that the goods are just fine – you just have to believe in yourself a bit more, and remember that sex is 90 per cent enthusiasm and 10 per cent everything else (such as expertise and having a chiselled sixpack). That’s what I’ve always told myself, anyway.

Sophie adds: “Forty is NOT too late to eliminate the paunch! Tell him to cut out sugar and get to the gym!”