I have recently come across a delightful young man named, shall we say, GM.
When his story started, GM was not yet 30, and he was afraid of dying before reaching the dreaded 3-0. A fear, one must admit, that a number of women, young and old, also possess.
GM is a scientist, or at least his field of work involves hard applied science.
A minor comment: While medicine is applied science, it is not hard enough, in my opinion, to give it the moniker “hard science”. B, also a soft-scientist and totally not involved in this story, would say, “That’s why I don’t date medicine-men, they are just too soft!”
At a tender age, GM fell really hard. And got his heart broken in the process.
We should feel sorry for GM because he lost his dad at a young age and he had to support his mom and family.
At this point, my friend, A would say, “Boo, hoo, tough luck! I also had to do that. He doesn’t have the corner on suffering in the world you know! (with much appreciation for Joanne Greenberg’s ‘I Never Promised You a Rose Garden’ from where that quote was lifted and paraphrased).”
I conversed with GM one day and he told me that it is his dream to “Marry a woman who reads. And writes. And travels. And beautiful. And has a good heart.”
I said, “Okaay. Great. That’s a great goal.”
And then he said, “But I’m afraid of dying before I’m 30.”
Me: “So how old are you now?”
GM: “Mid-late 20s.”
Me: “A lot of people say they’re going to die before they get to 30. When I was 17, I said I was probably going to die before I’m 25.”
GM: “You didn’t die?”
Me: “I’m talking to you now, right? The thing is, you’ll never have that perfect woman/man, or even the perfect sex, if you don’t go out there and put yourself out and get naked and vulnerable.”
GM: “I already did that. See all these scratch marks?”
Me: “Well you have to go out there again. The difference with sex and love is that with sex, you only die during orgasm. With love, you die every single day.”