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welcome to florida, land of the  mid life crisis. it's warm here, much better than that snow filled state you fled. you've had enough of shoveling snow and splitting logs and that ex to last you till you leave god's waiting room forever. so, what to do now? you've blown your retirement fund on a) the move b) your failed entre into the stock market/groundbreaking sales model  c)that twenty something arm candy or d)all of the above.  you've moved in with the rents because they need care  but that's like having kids again. don't you deserve a break? the divorce will be final soon enough, why not find a chickie to spill out all your angst to/ bag for a one nighter?  you hear the older women , women your age, can be sympathetic, even when they just tossed someone like you aside for the money. you can tell one your entire life story over a nice dinner. they've been fed, you've got your cheap therapy, everyone's happy and or payback's a bitch. it all works out. never mind those childish dreams you had before you got caught in the swamps and riddled with three layers of mosquito bites. you understand now that the beachfront properties are for tourists and couples that worked through the empty nest/recession money losses together. the ones that made it through the fire intact. that's love, and you've had enough of delusion as well. right now you'll settle for a warm, semi attractive body with a sympathetic ear  and tape on her mouth. that's where i come in. my guillibility is primed to be exploited and you remember how to do that so well. so, hey thanks for the dinner but we have a different definition of conversation and checked baggage is still something you have to deal with when the flight is over. do me a favor  , just let me know it's a session and i'll pick the appropriately priced restaurant so that neither of us walks away with a bad taste in their mouths. k?