His name was Edward. In his photographs, he appeared to be an ordinary chap of about thirty-fivetidy, no striking features. His profile was filled with musings about mindfulness, personal growth, and his search for a real, vibrant soul. Even back then, alarm bells should have rung. Experience had taught me that the louder a man speaks about wanting a genuine woman, the more likely hes hoping for one wholl never ask for anything and always be agreeable.
We exchanged messages for a few days. Edward was polite, although odd quirks would surface here and there. He particularly liked to expound on how, in his opinion, modern women had been ruined by money.
They all want restaurants, holidays in the Caribbean, and flashy phones, he typed. Nobody wants to look into someones soul, just walk and talk.
Being well-mannered, I noddedmentally, of courseand gently nudged the conversation onto other topics. After all, everyone bears their own scars. Perhaps an ex-wife left him with nothing but an empty flat and shattered expectationswho knows. I tried not to jump to conclusions.
Then came his invitation to meet. There was only one snag: it was the dead of winter. Not some mild English chill, but a proper freeze, minus twenty degrees on the thermometer and worse with the wind. The Met Office had issued warnings and advisories to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary.
Lets meet in the park, Edward suggested. Well walk, breathe the air, get to know each other without any pretence.
Edward, I replied, its minus twenty outside. Well turn to ice sculptures in ten minutes. Perhaps we could just get a coffee at a café?
His response came swiftly.
I dont go to cafés. Thats where gold diggers wait to be treated. I want a partner who can stand by me in fire, water, and frost. If its crucial for you that I spend twenty pounds on you, then were not on the same path.
Curiosity got the better of me. I dearly wanted to see this warrior for the purity of relationships, for whom a cup of Americano signified financial bondage.
Alright, I wrote. The park it is, 7 oclock by the main gate.
Preparing took some time. Out came the thermal underwear from the wardrobe, a thick jumper, and, to finish the look, my skiing outfit. On my feet, boots with robust soles and woollen socks, and on my head, a bobble hat with ear flaps.
In the mirror, I looked like someone prepared for overwintering in the Arctic.
Well then, Edward, brace yourself, I winked at my reflection and stepped out into the icy darkness.
Right at 7, I waited at the park gate. The cold instantly bit at my cheeksthe only part left exposed. Snow crunched under my sturdy boots, and not a soul was in sight: sensible people, including the supposed gold diggers, had chosen the warmth.
Edward was there by the entrance. He wore a light autumn coat. He shifted from foot to foot, hopped about, and desperately blew on his hands. His nose was as purple as a plum, and his ears glowed crimson.
I walked up.
Evening, I said, my voice muffled behind my scarf.
He looked me up and down, clearly expecting to see some delicate damsel in tights, ready to shiver prettily in the wind and give him a chance to feel heroic. Instead, he found someone who resembled a rescue worker on an expedition.
Hello, he said, teeth chattering. You really came prepared.
You said fire and water, I replied, so I thought we might start with frost. Well then, shall we walk and breathe the fresh air?
Fifteen minutes of fame
We set out along the path. The stroll quickly became one of the most peculiar dates Id ever experienced.
How are you finding the weather? I inquired in my best polite tone.
Its invigorating, he managed to reply. His face barely moved now, only his lipswhich were turning bluestill functioning. I love winterits a test of resilience.
Agreed, I nodded. About those gold diggers Explain your theory that coffee is a sign of being mercenary?
Speaking seemed painfulhis throat was burned by the coldbut his convictions demanded renunciation.
Because his voice trembled, relationships should be about interest in each other, not wallets. If a woman insists on being treated, shes a consumer.
What if a woman just doesnt want pneumonia? I asked, adjusting my hood.
Thats just an excuse, he retorted, then loudly sniffed. If you want something, you make it happen. You ought to dress warmly.
Which I have, I said, spreading my arms and showing off my voluminous outline. But you, it seems, havent. Are you sure youre not cold?
Im fine! he snapped, though his shivering was obvious even in the dim light.
After about ten minutes, we reached the parks central square. There stood an old, closed coffee kiosk. Edward looked at it with a longing worthy of a tragic hero.
Perhaps we should head back? he suggested. The winds picking up.
Oh really! I brightened. Weve only just begun. You wanted to see my soul. Lets talk literature. Do you like Jack London? Theres a splendid story, To Build a Firea man freezes to death because he underestimated the cold.
The look he gave me had nothing to do with spiritual quests.
I need to go, he interrupted. Somethings come upurgent.
What sort of urgent business? Wed planned the evening.
Workjust remembered I havent sent a report.
At eight oclock, on a Friday?
Yes! he almost shouted.
He spun around and hurried toward the exit. I followed at a leisurely pace, enjoying the moment: my survivalist had lasted precisely fifteen minutes.
At the tube station, he didnt even say goodbyesimply vanished into the sanctuary of the underground. I like to think he thawed not just his frozen extremities there, but maybe his convictions as well. Although, I doubt it.
I returned home, brewed myself a hot cup of tea, and deleted all our messages. I didnt regret a moment spent. Those fifteen minutes were the perfect antidote to guilta reminder that caring for oneself does not make a woman a gold digger.As I sipped that tea, warmth unfurling through my fingers and chest, a new notification blinked onto my phone: a message from Edward. I hesitated, but curiosity won again.
You really are something else, it read. I never expected youd turn up like that. Maybe I judged too quickly.
I smiled, placing the phone aside. Sometimes, people only learn by feeling the chill themselves. Maybe it was possible for Edward to look past his theories someday, but Id already learned the lesson I needed.
Outside, the wind howled, pushing at my window. Inside, I was cocooned in comfortnot just from wool and steam, but from the kind of wisdom that comes only after facing the freeze head-on. I glanced at myself in the mirror: no damsel, no ice queen, no gold digger. Just a woman who knew her own worth, toasted with a mug of teaand that, I decided, was enough to melt any winter.
