Being a relatively healthy male, I enjoy the company of women.
Learning the dating customs here in Borneo has been a challenge.
Wandering around in my mid 50s, yet thinking I am in my 20s, I have met and carefully enjoyed many platonic associations.
Many of my friends in the States have ditched their starter wife of say 20 years and live with or have married a much younger girl.
They sometimes start another family.
The path of wedded bliss followed by the pitter-patter of little feet scares the hell out of me at my age.
I am beyond wandering the malls searching for friends.
I don't particularly like nightclubs, dancing away and drinking new bizarre drinks served in what I once thought were martini glasses.
I like my 11pm bedtime.
Watching the latest heartthrob at the cinema does not hold much of a thrill.
'Casablanca' and 'Mamma Mia!' for me, please.
Chasing a wobbly one-year-old around the living room, again, with a diaper is not on my bucket list.
Picking up my 13-year-old son or daughter from the middle school dance, or worse, chaperoning, while in my 60s, makes me cringe.
Teaching a 16-year-old to drive in my 70s will certainly give me angina.
I want to slide peacefully and joyfully into senility.
Like in the States, here in Malaysia, some men my age are taking young girlfriends or a second, barely-out-of-puberty wife.
The second wife thing has gained popularity.
The man must be able to support both of them in equal types of lifestyles.
He can't put wife number one in a hut in the jungle and then elevate number two into the Taj Mahal.
He must also get wife number one's permission.
As a person seeking a permanent relationship and life partner, okay I admit it, I am expected to find a young girl of 18 or so.
Men can't understand why I would want an older lady when young, vibrant and sexually attractive goddesses are readily available.
Except for my tummy, I am good looking and, according to local standards, I am very wealthy.
It is difficult to convince people that I am lower middle class back in the States when I seem to live like a rajah here.
I have spurned the coy flirtations of the youngsters, searching for a mature lady without baggage.
I am not interested in inheriting a ready-made family caused by her unwise, past dalliances.
One girl with two little kids came over to see me several times until her older brother put a stop to it.
She was very pretty, but I had no intention of adding to the population.
One lady I have espied and have been talking to is a very, very pretty 41-year-old.
Running down the list: single, yes; kids, no.
Not a very long list.
An added bonus, she speaks excellent English, having attended a Chinese school where lessons were taught in English.
I have been sitting and talking to her in a small shop she owns along the banks of the Sarawak River.
She sells Borneo arts and crafts to tourists who come to visit from around the world.
According to local custom, I cannot be alone in the same room with her even though both doors are open and lights that would illuminate Redskin Stadium flood the small enclosure.
Almost every evening, I take the sampan over, my step a little quicker, my heart pounding a little harder while I hurry through my meal with my friend and mentor Abdullah.
I tell him what I am up to as I quickly eat the delicious food and rush over to be with her.
I babble in the Malay language, trying to impress her with my knowledge, but usually have to switch back to English as everyone looks at me quizzically wondering what I am saying.
I invited her over to my condo, accompanied by a friend of course, and she agreed to a visit.