After sixty, a man does not fall in love the way he used to. He is performing a full-scale audition for the role of “Man Who Mistook His Youth for Wisdom.” Trying to look young; trying to compete; trying to demonstrate stamina that quietly retired years ago. Someone who can sit next to you, drink tea in peace, and still call it a perfect evening. At this age, love should feel like a hammock in the evening breeze, comfortable, unhurried, and entirely unwilling to disturb your nap.