I wouldn't date me in a million years - even back when I wasn't past the sell-by date, which obviously we older wimmin have. Far too happy in my own company and not likely to feign interest in bores (farts optional), bigots, or tightwads. I would find my propensity to talk instantly to total strangers a bit ego-busting, and later conversations about how keeping separate (and significant) space for ourselves might lead to petty outbursts of possessiveness, which I'd hate. So that would end up with a very nastily split personality, one in its own room, sulking and looking at the clock, the other in some nightery chatting merrily with a heavily-tattooed Hell's Angel, on its fourth JD & Coke, with no intention of getting home before bird call.