After four months of lively online chatting, I finally agree to meet a 52-year-old gentlemanwho opens the conversation with five complaints.
They say that the anticipation of a celebration often eclipses the event itself. For Caroline, the wait stretches to nearly four months, turning into a kind of digital drama, with new episodes arriving daily.
During this time, shes learned Jacks preferences to the last detail, memorised the names of his old school friends, and no longer bats an eye at his quirky habit of ending every good morning with three dots.
At forty-five, Carolines reached that point in life when a date is approached not with anxious excitement, but with the wry curiosity of a seasoned explorer. Lets see what specimen I discover this time, she muses as she gets ready.
Caroline is one of those women who can make a plain cashmere jumper look regal, and whose self-deprecating humour dissolves even the most awkward situation.
Jack, who has just turned fifty-two, comes across in messages as thoughtful, level-headed, subtly witty andbest of allsomeone she can rely on.
At our age, Caroline, he writes to her late at night, people arent after fireworks, just a bit of warmth. You want to be with a woman who understands without words.
Without words, then, Caroline mutters with a smile, touching up her mascara. Still, she hopes the words exchanged wont make her want to dash out the door.
They agree to meet at a small, cosy café in central London, softly lit, filled with the scent of cinnamon and pastries. Caroline arrives on timecomposed, confident, and anticipating an enjoyable evening. She looks impeccable.
Jack shows up five minutes later. In person, hes a touch shorter than his photos suggest, and his expression is that of a man whos just spotted a glaring mistake in the company accounts.
He sits opposite, manages a brisk smile, and greets her.
No compliment, no warm delighted to finally meet you.
Instead, Jack gives Caroline a look over, as if checking the quality of a second-hand car. Then he suggests they order coffee and cakewhich they do, after some negotiation.
Caroline, he starts in the tone of a stern headteacher about to address the staff, Ive given our correspondence a lot of thought. Nearly four months now. And, seeing you in person today, I feel I must get a few things out in the open. I have five issues with you.
Inside, something quietly snapsthe sound of her mood shattering. Caroline props her chin on her hand and nods.
Five issues? Now you have my interest. Go on, Im all ears, she says, her tone dry.
Jack misses the irony and raises his index finger.
First issue: photographs
In one of your photos, youre in a blue dressyour figure looks rather different there. Now, I see youre, well more curvy. It may mislead a man. At our age, women ought to be more upfront.
Caroline smirks inwardly. Curvywhat an upgrade. At least he didnt call me monumental.
Second issue: response time
You sometimes reply far too slowly. For example, three weeks ago, I messaged you at 2:15 pm, and you didnt respond until 4:40 pm. Men dislike waiting. Its disrespectful.
I was in a meeting at work she begins, but Jack is already on to his next point.
Third issue: venue
Why are we here? This place is far too fancy. I suggested a simpler café. Picking this one shows youre a bit too keen on showing off.
Caroline eyes her latte and resists the urge to tip it over his head. Her curiosity wins out, for now.
Fourth issue: appearance
Whats with the dress? Were just having coffee. Its too over-the-top for daytime. The jewellerys unnecessary too. A woman should attract with substance, not sparkle. At my age, Im after depth, not display.
Fifth issue: self-sufficiency
You picked the place yourself, you frequently say Ill do it myself. You dont let a man feel like a man. I need a woman who seeks advice, not one who constantly asserts her independence. If we get involved, youll have to rethink this behaviour.
He finishes and folds his arms, waiting for whatcontrition? Gratitude for his honesty?
Caroline studies him, and suddenly it hits her: four months of texting have just been a tidy disguise for a fastidious manipulator. He isnt after warmth; hes after someone malleable enough to feed his ego.
You know, Jack, she says gently, almost kindly, Ive done my own analysis. It took me five minutes to reach a conclusion.
And whats that? he asks, narrowing his eyes.
Youre a remarkable specimen. Youve crossed London just to present a stranger with a bill for her tastes, appearance, and her right to be herself. Thats a rare level of self-importance.
Jack frowns.
Im just being honest.
No, Caroline says, shaking her head. Youre not honest. Youre simply unhappy, and you insist on measuring everyone by your own warped standards. Dont like my photos? Try the British Museumthey dont change the exhibits there. Annoyed by my slow replies? Buy a Tamagotchi. Not a fan of the dress? I put it on for me, not you.
She stands, adjusts her bag and looks him square in the eye.
And one last thing. If your ego trembles at the word independent, you dont need romanceyou need therapy. At forty-five, I value my time too much to squander it on someone who opens with a catalogue of my flaws.
Where are you going? What about the coffee? Jack mutters.
You can finish your coffee on your own. Thatll save you some money. And a tip for you: if you want someone to hang on your every word, try a dentist.
Back home, Carolines first act is to block Jack on every messaging app. At her age, comfort isnt just a blanket and silence, but a phone free of people who want to squeeze you into their crooked little mould.
Now, what do you think: was this an unfortunate flirtation or a well-practiced performance? And really, is it worth pursuing someone who tallies up your faults within minutes of meeting you?
