HAPPY ANNIVERSARY.

I’m having an anniversary. A year ago I found myself ambling out of the Seventh Avenue offices of the Beth Din of America, the rabbinical court that processes many Jewish divorces in New York. The Beth Din (religious court) is located in a very non-descript office building South of Penn Station in an equally non-descript suite of offices in that building. One could just as well be visiting some city agency or mid-level law or accounting firm. Visually, there’s nothing about the place that would indicate the dramatic life changes taking place within its walls.

The overall vanilla drabness there is perhaps a metaphor for the blah-like feelings I had upon emerging after an hour spent with a panel of heretofore unknown (to me) rabbis, quills in hand as they peppered me with no end of questions on my lineage and that of my now former spouse while they wrote a Bill of Divorce (a “get”) which is essentially the opposite of a Jewish marriage certificate (a “ketuba”).

Although the place is very bureaucratic looking, the atmosphere is comparable to that of a funeral parlor (minus the Gothic crenellations and profusion of interior mahogany, suede and flowers) as you’re not the only person having their life unraveled at the time, so the waiting area is an amalgam of grim, teary and moist-eyed people of all ages and genders, some heartbreakingly young and some surprisingly old.

In the space of 60 minutes 14-plus years of my life were consigned to the permanent past in a divorce I didn’t ask for, didn’t want and that I tried real hard to stop. But you can’t control other people and you can’t control the weather, so I found myself as a reluctant over-50 single still living in my same Five Towns home, still going to the same synagogues, still driving the same car, still having the same cleaning lady (nine years now) and same secretary (eight). Unfortunately, my prior business of 18 years was being severely battered by the recession when my ex bolted from our home a year and a half ago so I had to contend with the dual stresses of personal heartache and professional tzurris. I don’t recommend this to anyone. Thankfully, I have a very loving family and some truly amazing friends and neighbors that helped me through.

The last time I was truly single was around 1995-96 which was way before the ubiquity of mobile phones, Blackberrys, i-Phones, internet dating, text messaging, BBM-ing and the like. It’s been kind of a Rip Van Winkle experience learning the new fangled dating etiquette (yes, there has been a dating paradigm-shift in the past 15 years and it’s not like it was “back in the day.”). First and foremost it has been an odyssey of oddity as older members of the opposite sex are not the same at say, 40, as they were at 25. Many of those who never married have frankly spent way too much time “professionally dating” (going on hundreds of first and second dates) so that they could really just send a video and/or they’ve spent so much time living alone that the concept of sharing everyday life is an unfathomable and alien concept.

Then there are those who have sadly become embittered and jaded by past relationships and /or marriages to such an extent that all new men they meet are tainted with “original sin,” i.e., all men are guilty of being dogs until proven otherwise and the burden of proof on any guy can be exhausting and extensive. These women are often the polar opposite of the wide-eyed romantic and willing young woman of 15 years ago. And there are a lot fewer of them because so many ladies between 35-45 are married now with kids.

Manhattan is the center of middle aged (and all ages really) single life, so I’ve put my EZ-pass to work along with my rear “Bumper Buddy,” and trucked a lot into The City to meet and date. The Amex card also has gotten some exercise. Many women find me to be “G.U.” (geographically undesirable) as their world ends at the East or Hudson Rivers but I’m not moving back into some tiny place in Manhattan if I can help it. That’s why God invented cars, EZ-pass and the LIRR. (Well, maybe the Devil invented the LIRR).

So far I’ve not been able to re-create the bright sparks and deep chemistry (both emotional, intellectual and physical) of prior committed relationships but its only been a year now and Spring is finally here, my pink tulips are in full, glorious bloom and I’m thankfully dating. I’ll keep you all periodically posted on my social progress in this second-life quest for middle-aged love. You can read some of my prior blog posts on this subject at Wuugu.com and look in this space for ongoing tales of adventure from the suburban single and fabulous.