After four months of messaging, I agreed to meet a 52-year-old suitorwho began our first conversation with five complaints.
They say looking forward to something lovely is often more exciting than the thing itself. For Annabelle, the anticipation stretched out across nearly four months, turning into a running drama of online episodes each day.
During that time, shed memorised Williams tastes, remembered all his childhood mates names, and even stopped being surprised by his habit of putting three dots at the end of every good morning.
Annabelle was forty-fivethe perfect age to go on a date not trembling with nerves, but with the curious wit of a seasoned explorer. Lets see what sort of character I get this time, she thought while getting ready.
She was one of those women able to wear a simple cashmere jumper as gracefully as a ceremonial cloak, with enough self-deprecating humour to neutralise even the most awkward situations.
William, whod just turned fifty-two, seemed in messages a serious, practical man, slightly witty, andperhaps most attractive of allreliable.
At our age, Annabelle, hed write to her late in the evenings, people arent searching for fireworks anymore, just a bit of warmth. Id like to be with a woman who understands without everything needing to be said.
Fine, if were having silence, I can manage that, Annabelle would smirk while putting on her mascara. Mainly, she hoped the words that were said wouldnt make her want to run for the door.
They arranged to meet at a small, cosy café in London, golden light softly glowing, and the scent of cinnamon wafting through the air. Annabelle arrived on time, perfectly composed and hoping for a pleasant evening. She looked impeccable.
William turned up five minutes later. In the flesh, he was a bit shorter than in his photos, and had the look of a man whod just found a glaring mistake in a spreadsheet.
He sat opposite her, gave a brief smile, and said hello.
No compliment, not even a warm nice to meet you.
William studied Annabelle as if conducting a thorough inspection. Then he suggested they order coffee and dessertson that, at least, there was agreement.
Annabelle, he began, sounding like a headteacher addressing a staff meeting, Ive thought a lot about our conversations. Almost four months, in fact. Now were meeting, I think its best to set things straight from the off. I have five issues with you.
Something clinked quietly inside herthe sound of a fine mood shattering. Annabelle rested her chin on her hand and nodded.
Five issues? Thats intriguing. Go on, Im all ears.
William missed the humour and ticked off his first point.
First issue: The photos
In one of your pictures, where youre wearing that blue dress, your figure looks different. In person, youre more, shall we say, sculpted. It can mislead a man. At our age, women should be more honest.
Annabelle smirked internally. Sculptedwell, thats progress. Thanks for not using monumental.
Second issue: Response speed
You sometimes reply too slowly. For instance, three weeks ago, I messaged you at 2:15 in the afternoon, and you replied only at 4:40. Men dont like waiting. It feels disrespectful.
I was in a meeting, if you remember she began, but William was moving briskly to the next point.
Third issue: The meeting place
Why are we here? This café is far too posh. I suggested somewhere simpler. Choosing this sort of place shows you like to show off.
Annabelle glanced at her latte and suppressed the urge to toss it over Williams head. Curiosity, however, got the better of her.
Fourth issue: Appearance
Why wear that dress? Were only here for coffee. Its too flashy for daytime. The jewellerys too much as well. A woman should attract with depth, not sparkle. At my age, Im after substance, not display.
Fifth issue: Independence
You chose the café without asking, you keep saying Ill do it myself. You dont let a man feel like a man. I need a woman who asks for advice, not one whos always independent. If were to be together, your behaviour will have to change.
He finished and folded his arms in expectation, as if waiting for either an apology or a thank-you for his candour.
Annabelle looked at him and suddenly saw everything clearly: four months of witty messages had simply masked a fussy control freak. He wasnt after warmthhe wanted someone to bolster his ego.
You know, William, she said gently, almost kindly, Ive done some thinking myself. And its taken me five minutes to reach a conclusion.
Oh? And whats that? he squinted.
Youre one of a kind. You crossed London to meet a woman for the first time, just to charge her for her taste, appearance, and right to be herself. Thats a rare breed of self-confidence.
William frowned.
Im only being honest.
No, Annabelle shook her head, youre not honest. Youre just miserable, measuring the world with a wonky yardstick. Dont like my pictures? Go to the National Gallerythe art there never changes. Not quick enough to reply? Get yourself a Tamagotchi. Not keen on my dress? I wore it for me, not you.
She stood up, straightened her bag, and looked at him calmly.
And one last thing: if your ego cant survive the word myself, you need therapy, not romance. At forty-five, I value my time far too much to waste it on someone who opens a first meeting by criticising my faults.
Where are you going? And the coffee? William muttered.
You can finish your coffee alone. Thatll help you save a bit of money. And heres a tip: if you want someone hanging on your every word, book yourself in with a dentist.
When she got home, Annabelle blocked Williams number everywhere. At her age, comfort means more than a throw blanket and peace and quiet; its also a phone free of people trying to box her into their crooked template.
What do you think: was this a failed attempt at romance or a carefully staged performance? And should we stick around when, from the very first minute, someone tries to make us pay for simply being ourselves?
