Pushing 50

William Dalton
Aug 23, 2017 · 6 min read

You read my story last week about climbing Rinjani. I sent it to you, and a few of my mates, and the response was great.
Was the Japanese guy really dead? did you really swim back from Lombock? did you end up getting with the English girl?
Answers, yes, yes and sadly, no.

The Lombok experience wasn’t enjoyable, but never felt more alive and one mate asked, “when’s the next installment?”

To be honest, my regular life isn’t newsworthy, not even Instagram worthy, so the only way for another installment, is for another adventure.

Is that what I really want?

No, not really. Prefer to be like you guys, have a wife, and/ or family.
No, I am not playing the violin, I acknowledge I’ve been blessing with an amazing life, yet one thing alludes me, and that’s the appearance of a soul mate.

It’s just never happened for me, and now pushing 50, doubt it ever will. This is not pessimism, it’s realism.

A few days ago I met an Irish couple in their 70’s at the Tjamphuan Hotel in Ubud Bali. They were in deep discussion, over breakfast. Holding hands. Never seen anything like it. I struck up a conversation.

They’d been together for 50 years, their secret, separate bedrooms, they even have two rooms at the Hotel. They hang together when they want to, not because they have to. Love it.

I’d like a relationship like that. A companion, someone I can love, who loves me, who I get, who gets me.

Problem is, I’m no spring chicken, probably not even a winter chicken, yet am only physically attracted to women in their late twenties, how do I know this? because I’ve been dating them for 30 years.

At 19, my first girl friend was 26, and at 48 my last girlfriend was 28.
Why past tense on the last girlfriend?
Because she insisted on talking to me as if I was a mentally challenged child. Was told that was typical of many Russian women, but
it was minus ten going to zero. No matter what I did, never enough. The best stint with her, was for three hours post jewelry shopping.

Yes, I know, I’d be better off with a woman my own age, but no matter how much I try to reason with my python, snake, weasel or what ever you want to call him, he’s not interested. The drunkard one eyed pirate looks at me while I make my case, “Arrrrrrrr shut the fuck up” then falls back asleep.

Oh yeah, the other problem, I fall in love with women who are not attracted to me.
If you’re a hot girl in your late twenties and have zero interest in me I begin hearing wedding bells and find myself late night shopping on eBay

“bet she’d just love this rose gold Daytona!”

Don’t worry, I’ve already seen the shrink, it’s the typical “mother didn’t love me enough” crap but just because I know why am I attracted to unicorns, does stop me wanting one.

But who gives a shit?

All the stuff I teach in my workshops is true.

The love I seek lives inside me, not in a romantic partner and there is a life beyond approval and validation from a love interest..

(Please stop for a second, and perform this simple exercise. Look between your legs. If there’s a vagina there, read the following at your own risk cause this rant is not written for you!)

But don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the female form, but the truth is, would prefer male company.

I just never mastered “yes dear” or know how to respond to “earth is flat” logic or sign off on how I’m the direct cause of my girlfriend’s miserable experience.

“So you mean to say you were ecstatically happy before you met me?”

When a girlfriend cheated on me, she deftly placed me on the back foot and spun it like I was to blame.

“How am I to blame, you cheated on me!?”

These days I don’t believe in “cheating”
humans will do whatever they want, whenever they want to do it, no matter what prior allegiances they’ve pledged.
And for us guys, what’s that line? “we’re only as faithful as our options” maybe not for you, okay I’ll speak for myself.

“Let everyone be free” is my motto.

I love my mates, but I look at their relationships and most of them have done something I can’t comprehend. At one point in their life, they willingly marched their unsuspecting one eyed pirate into a maximum security prison and committed him to a female warden for two back to back life sentences.

But don’t feel sorry, every pirate has escape artistry skill that even Houdini would envy.

I don’t have the answers, all I know is prison ain’t for me.

So what to do? Well, I am living the life of a single guy in his late 20’s, only difference is, I’m in my late 40’s and I yes am holding out for this one girl, who I dearly love, she’s probably a unicorn, but this is the kicker? She’s exactly like me, on the hunt for a unicorn.

Right now she at Burning man or West Hollywood’s Soho house trolling for a rich and famous, diamond chain wearing, black, rap artist. Yep true. She’s into black guys, and whilst I go a nice shade of brown in summer, I’ll never go charcoal.

But like a black hole, anytime I cut her loose in my mind and heart and seem to attain escape velocity, the unicorn can feel my presence departing her orbit and need send nothing more than a three-word text, “thinking about you” and I can crash back to Earth like space shuttle Challenger, hmmmm, what exactly does she mean? “thinking about you?

Absolutely fucking nothing, you silly bastard.

I am not bitter, I am not upset, it’s fucking hilarious. Life is hilarious.
Let’s face it, who gets everything they want? No one. I can either cry about it, or laugh about it. Hedging my bets, I do both.

So in the absence of any semblance of a “normal life” and in the absence of a woman who loves me, who I love, I refuse to accept my lot begrudgingly, I refuse to even embrace it, instead I’m going the other way with it, I’m going to crash tackle the fucker.

I’m going to throw myself into more adventure and then write to you, my mates about it.

No, I am not going to leap out of a plane without a parachute, run with the bulls in Barcelona, or swim with the sharks, wherever the fuck people swim with sharks, I am not going to risk my life, but I am going to make things slightly uncomfortable.

This is what I know — I’m dead in 2 or 3 decades, probably before.

Time is running out.

Should I try to focus on making more money? yeah probably, but no matter how much cash I have I can never walk into the Bentley show room and trade in my body for a new one.
My financial net worth may go up, but my physical net worth is one hundred percent guaranteed on its way down.

Hit me the other day while looking at Bali real estate, I own nothing more than depreciating lease hold. What a fuck!

So going to catch it while I can. So what is the next adventure? Nothing earth shattering.

I’ll fly to Singapore then make my way to Europe by land, yep land.

What does that mean? It essentially means, no planes. Everything by trains, car or by foot. Most of this will suck. I can assure you.

Could I fly Emirates business class, yeah maybe, only if I used miles, but it would be the same predictable, homogenized mind numbing we all know. Would you read about a middle aged guy flying business class to Paris, nup, you’d fall asleep, just like my pirate listening to my arguments for dating 50-year-olds.

But you may be interested in reading about my trip in a cramped, smelly non-air conditioned economy train carriage through the rice fields in the outskirts of Mongolia. Does Mongolia even have rice fields? fucked if I know, but I’ll find out.

Rule one : Stay on the ground.
Rule two: No clear plan.

Why no plan? because my mind wants a plan, feel safe with a plan, feels in control with a plan, yet the best experiences, the craziest and best shit that’s ever happened — are with the flimsiest of plans.

First stop Singapore, last stop, Paris. I can either go left through Nepal, Pakistan up through Iran and maybe land the starring role in an orange jump suit in a Islamic religious video, no thanks, or go up through China around the back of North Korea into Russia’s, Vladivostok and take the trans-Siberian railway for a few weeks into Moscow.

Please forgive the cliche but for this trip

“the journey is the destination”

See you in Singapore. Love you guys.

Yours Will

)
Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade