You know it’s going to be an interesting day when a woman in her 70s writes to you about sugar daddies.

You know the concept. A pretty woman hooks up with a wealthy, older man who provides her with jewelry, status and financial stability. She rides in fancy cars, eats at the finest restaurants and struts around in expensive clothes. It’s good work if you can get it. But while my letter-writer is looking for a man, she can do without all the gloss and glitter.

“No furs or jewelry for me, thank you,” the spry lady wrote. “I’d like someone to fix leaky faucets, paint my house, mow my lawn, weed my flowers and pay household bills.”

Sounds reasonable. The woman is lonely and there are chores to do. It’s perfectly understandable that she would write the local street reporter to search for a suitable mate. I began searching my mental black book for older gentlemen with a knack for chores. I was relieved there were none listed in there.

But anyway, I take this stuff seriously. If an older lady thinks I’m the best choice to help out with her social life, I want to do what I can. More about her:

“I’m a widow lady, 70-ish, reasonably healthy, arthritic prone, slightly hard of hearing but mentally alert.”

So far, so good. Not a word about recent stints in prison or murderous voices in her head. The letter was handwritten and did not appear to be the work of a scam artist. I hate getting scammed by someone purporting to be in their 70s.

“I love football (Patriots), baseball (Red Sox), fishing, picnics, reading, puzzles, animals, music and theater. Cooking is my hobby and I’m always looking for new recipes. Love to eat out, too.”

It used to be that a person 70 and up was an old person. Now you read about 75-year-olds running marathons. A man in his 80s was featured in the newspaper a few weeks ago for his swimming prowess.

Old is relative. I know people who are 30 and yet they already seem beaten down by life. They sit in clouds of gloom in front of the television and grunt and gasp if they have to climb a flight of stairs. They have given up on romance and resigned themselves to lives of self-pity and solitude.

Now here’s a woman content with her years and gleefully putting out feelers in hopes of finding a man with similar attributes. There is none of the wild hyperbole you find on the Internet or in the classifieds when people go prowling for love. The letter-writer is all about sincerity and facts.

“I’ve got this white hair from worrying and I can’t afford to have it colored. Anyway, it has taken me years to get it this color and I kind of like it. I’m not a raving beauty, but I don’t scare little kids, either.”

Mind you, my new friend is not hard up. She’s not going to open her door to any slob who comes knocking. She has standards. She has criteria. They’re spelled out concisely but firmly in the three-page letter.

“Restrictions: someone who bathes every day. Shaving is not mandatory as long as his beard is nicely trimmed and no food is clinging to it. Non-smoker and non-drinker, too.”

The lady is computer illiterate. Maybe that’s for the best. It’s a dangerous world out there on the Web. And there is something sweet and nostalgic about a handwritten note in the mail. Even those that begin with the question: “Are you too young to know about sugar daddies?”

So, there it is for your consideration. Scoundrels who prey on older people should steer clear, but the earnestly lovelorn should update their romantic resumes. I’ll pass along any messages from potential suitors to the woman in question. I expect no payment for this. That would be unethical and probably illegal. But if this works out, a career change may be in order. I think I’ll order a pinkie ring and a big, funky hat just in case.

Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter.