published on July 22, 2024 in Quick Update

Opinion | I didnt want to watch The Golden Bachelor. Now I need Kleenex to get through it.

For most single women over 60, trying to find their prince means having to kiss a Great Lake full of toads, only with slightly more warts.

But for the surprise hit “The Golden Bachelor,” ABC found a charmer — 72-year-old Gerry (pronounced Gary) Turner, a lean, handsome, aw-shucks retired Indiana restaurateur with Midwestern manners not seen since Coach John Wooden. I mean, the guy starts his texts with “Dear …”

I didn’t want to watch it. What were my reasons? Well … Depends. But my wife wanted to. So I went from standing in the kitchen and tossing grenades — “Will they both be wearing their CPAPs in the fantasy suite?” — to standing in the TV room to watch it, to sitting on the edge of the couch needing a box of Kleenex to get through it.

There’s something real and sweet and emotional about “The Golden Bachelor.” Turner lost his wife of 43 years, Toni, in 2017 and just the mention of her name gets him crying. Many of the 22 women vying for his proposal — all aged 60 to 75 — had spouses who died. For a lot of them, another shot at new love was something they never thought would happen. The wrinkles, bags and liver spots covered them like an invisible cloak they thought they’d never shake off.

“Society makes us feel like we’ve had our chance,” said one of Turner’s suitors, Joan Vassos, a 60-year-old widow from Maryland. “We’ve raised our children and it’s time now to support the next generation and kind of take a back seat.” Suddenly, they’re not just visible again, they’ve got professional lighting, makeup artists and a national audience to prove it.

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And why not? As you watch — and if you do, you’ll still be in bed by 9 — you’ll see how different the Gerry-atrics are from the usual batch of vapid 23-year-old wannabe Kardashians paraded out by “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette.” These people are funny. They’re wise. They lean in close when they talk to each other, although that might be because they forgot their hearing aids.

On the regular “Bachelor,” the guys have a worn-out line about the spray-tanned prospects they’re rejecting: “I don’t think she’s here for the right reasons.” But these women are. They’re not on the show to find an agent. They’re not part of the Tinder Generation, where the next guy is just a swipe-right away.

They really want this man for the love, the companionship, the sharing of Chinese takeout. And when Turner has to send them home, one by one, their hearts really do break and so does his and so does yours.

For sure, “The Golden Bachelor” might make Gen Z gag on their Tide pods. There’s lots of boomer talk about flatulence and gastrointestinal problems and pickleball injuries. They use the hot tub scenes for the soak, not the sex. “This might be the first ‘Bachelor’ with a group nap,” Turner cracked in one episode.

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But young people should watch it, if only to see that they don’t have to dread their coming AARP years, that old age can be lived with grace and style and … oh, my God … passion? At one point, host Jesse Palmer asks Turner if he’s squeamish about kissing so many women, knowing his two granddaughters will be watching. “Granddaughters be damned,” Turner said. “They’re all glamorous and glorious. I’m not going to pass that up.”

What these women say when snuggled up to Turner and what he says back are so real and honest you can’t help but be filled with warmth and hope. At one point, with the ever-chivalrous Turner, a contestant said, “I am feeling so special. And, honestly, I haven’t felt special in a very long time.”

I don’t want this show to end, and I’ll bet ABC doesn’t either. More than 11 million people watched the opening show across all platforms, and the audience hasn’t fallen off. Turns out, the world doesn’t stop at 30. Hey, TV suits, there’s gold in them gray hairs.

Eventually, by the two-hour finale on Nov. 30, all but one of these women will have lost, planting lipstick on Turner one last time and getting tucked into the sad goodbye limo home. But even losing seems to be a gift, a kind of awakening that maybe 70 can be just the beginning.

“It’s not over,” said Susan Noles, a hilarious 66-year-old wedding officiant from Pennsylvania. “Get back up. If you don’t feel good and … you don’t look good, then change your outfit. Or go take a walk. Just get up and live.”

I’m 65, and I try to get out there and live like I won’t make 66. Maybe I won’t. But if I can live these last years of my life with the kind of joy and hope and authenticity of Gerry and his gals, I’ll go into that last limo ride happy.

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