By now, her dating profile had eroded into basics—where she grew up, how she got to the Southwest, number of children and their ages, a bunch of statistics making her sound like her own social security bureau. Online dating was nothing like that–what an imbecile movie, how four seniors, Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton, Mary Steenburgen, and Candice Bergen found prince charming after reading Fifty Shadesand wondering if they’d missed out on not being spanked. Diane in those cute Annie Hall outfits. Jane Fonda as senior executive.
After the credits, she stood in line waiting for an empty stall when she overheard several women talk about the film.
“Jane Fonda looks terrible.”
“It’s all those plastic surgery jobs, that’s what it is, plus she always wears those sexy outfits.”
“She did the same thing in Grace and Frankie.”
Nothing about the fantasy of four book club ladies who had been marked by the dishwasher spots of bad breakups, but who dared not to give up on love; love a chimera bearing the head of a lion, body of a goat, and snake for a tail, transforming itself over the years, which is why she went to the movies in the first place because she didn’t want to stay home drinking that bottle of red wine even though her doctor said it was good for her heart.