Commentary: Playing the match game can be tricky

A while back, Newport Coast resident Terry Goldstein wrote a piece in the Daily Pilot imagining what it would be like to attend a seniors’ speed-dating event.

She made it sound laughable, but now I’m sorry that, once I’d worked up the courage to sign up for the one at the Oasis, the waiting list was full.

My friend Annie had encouraged me to do it. In plenty of time.

It’s been over three years since Lee died, and in addition to missing him, I’ve begun to miss the things we did together: play bridge, hold hands watching television, attend social events and the movies. It’s no fun to go places alone, and woman friends don’t fill the void. (Sorry, friends.)

My daughter Jan suggested I try a seniors’ singles website. She’d joined one and met a nice guy, so ... Mom?

OK. I joined the website, but only for a month. Jan and I discovered that we both got sent the same faces as “matches.” Ha-hah!

I never sent so many messages and received so few replies. Pretty sure it had to do with listing myself as a liberal, but what would be the point in not warning potential social partners? My other drawback is that I said I was looking for a bridge partner.

Of the myriad profiles I’ve read, conservatives outnumber liberals about 50-1, and the only man who played bridge had already met his match.

I felt rejected on every level: age, political philosophy and bridge-playing.

So I bought a bright red sports car and felt way better for awhile. I love the car, but going places with it isn’t the same as going with Lee. Amid a zillion special features, a warm hand to hold when the light is red is not included.

So I joined what I thought was a different site. It’s turned out to be the same one with a different name. A “sister site.” Identical twin, I’d say. Same faces. Same matches.

The thing that started me thinking about telling this story, though, is a new question you can ask to facilitate communication with someone interested in you. “If you had to leave everything behind but five things, what would they be?”

Wow! So much stuff! I suppose we acquired it because it fills up the horizontal surfaces. OK, the tchotchkes of a lifetime are just going to have to stay behind.

And my new bamboo pillow I bought at the OC Fair.

What would I take? Not clothes. At packing time, Lee used to say, “Don’t worry about what to pack. You can always buy what you forgot or what you need.”

He was such a calm, sensible guy.

I suppose putting the five things in a vehicle is a given, because it didn’t say I had to carry them. It also didn’t say I was going to jail, or I’d just take books, pens and paper.

I finally decided on these grouped items: selected family photos; first editions of others’ books and my own; my computer; money access for survival; and my sense of humor.

What would you take?

Most people’s first choice would be their cell phone, I bet. I suppose I could take my phone and hide my sense of humor. (That shouldn’t be hard.)

I really like that question. I put my answer into my profile.

I’ve been more successful in getting replies this time around, even with “liberal” in my self-description. In a message to a potential match, I ask if the person is real or just clip art. Maybe it gives them a laugh. Several fellows have alluded to getting together with me. I feel a lot of anxiety about that.

Do I have to give them my phone number? I know my mindset is negative because my first th

ought was “Thank goodness I bought those call-blocking phones.”

Do I really want to meet someone face-to-face? I know I’ll compare everyone with Lee. Could I feel favorable toward anyone?

So, at the magical age of 77, I’m feeling alone — or greedy — needing something more than all the wonderful things already in my life.

Surely this should be a lucky year for an already lucky person.

I’ll give it another chance. But only for a month.

Author LIZ SWIERTZ NEWMAN lives in Corona del Mar.