After my husband, Fernando, had been dead for about two years, I decided to fill out a profile on Match.com. Of course, on that particular evening, I’d drunk quite a bit of wine. You had to answer a bunch of questions. You had to upload a photo of yourself. You had to come up with a password. I took another sip of wine and typed, “Dumbass,” thinking I was creating a password. I didn’t realize this would be my screen name.
I’d been married for forty years, which meant I hadn’t dated since I was eighteen; so it was all a mystery to me. I had to tell the app who I was looking for, what I wanted, who I was.
