Two months I spent escorting a 56-year-old lady to all sorts of fine restaurants, yet the moment I invited her to my home, her mask dropped instantly.
Five years ago, Id gone through a calm and uneventful divorce and settled into the typical life of a bachelor. But recently, I found the silence of my empty flat growing rather dreary each night.
At 56, my health was still reliable and I felt full of energy. I decided to sign up to a dating site, thinking I might find a woman interested in sharing her life with someone. And, as it happened, I was fortunatewithin just the first few days, I encountered someone genuinely interesting.
Her profile was straightforward:
Margaret, 56, widow, seeking a respectable gentleman for a committed relationship.
The photograph was of a pleasant woman, unpretentious, with warm eyes. We began corresponding almost immediately. I was clear from the start that I had no interest in lengthy virtual flirtations; I wanted a real, flesh-and-blood companion to share daily life and holidays alike. She agreed, and we arranged to meet that very weekend in the heart of Bath.
Our first meeting was delightful. We ambled through the town for ages in perfect weather. Margaret spoke at length about her job and grandchildren, while I listened thoughtfully, nodding along. What endeared her to me was her serene demeanour and the fact that she wasnt overly chatty. Afterwards, I invited her for coffee at a little café, and naturally, I covered the costbeing a gentleman of the old school, I believe that if you invite a lady, you pay the bill.
Thus began our classic wine and roses courtship. I reliably purchased the wine and the flowers, but the evenings were enjoyed by us both. Every Friday and Saturday were spent on outingsrich, cultural evenings. Ive never been one for penny-pinching, but when I think back and tally the expenses for those two months of devoted courting, I must admit it unsettles me slightly.
Wed attend the theatre, then head off to a nice restaurant. There was always somethingan exhibition, a concert, a trip into the countryside capped with a hearty lunch in fresh air.
I strove to be the perfect gentleman, believing our closeness was growing. Shed smile sweetly, slip her arm through mine as we walked, and tell me:
Graham, youre such a pleasure to be with, so gallant and considerate.
Naturally, my ego was flattered.
Red Flags at the Cinema
In hindsight, I see now that Margarets behaviour revealed everything I needed to know.
For one, she never once invited me to her homenot even for a cup of tea or simply to rest. There was always an excuse: Oh, I havent tidied yet, My granddaughters staying over, Im worn out after work, shall we just meet at the café instead? At first, I thought she was simply shy; a woman living alone might naturally have grown unaccustomed to guests. I was patient and waited for the right moment.
Secondly, conversations about age were oddly inconsistent. When it came to outings, excursions, or dinners, she was the definition of youthfulenthusiastic, eager for trips, suggesting we go to the seaside or the new water park. But if the conversation edged towards anything more personal or intimate, Margaret seemed to switch immediately to a grumbling old dear.
Once, at the back row of the theatre, I gently placed my hand on her kneejust resting it, nothing daring. She moved it away at once, politely but firmly.
Graham, people will see us.
But Margaret, its dark in here, theres no one near.
I dont care. It isnt proper. Were not teenagers in a schoolyard.
I put that down to her strict upbringing. Perhaps she was genuinely modest and her boundaries deserved respect. Still, it started to irk me inside. We werent sixteen; we were nearly sixty. Time, after all, is no longer a luxury to be squandered on endless games of offended dignity.
Margaret was also fond of narrating her every ailment in intricate detail. At our age, a sore back or fluctuating blood pressure is hardly unusual, yet she spoke of these things with almost theatrical relishan entire dinner could be spent discussing her lumbar discomfort or which cholesterol tablets were most effective.
I listened with genuine concern, and often offered to drive her to a reputable doctor. But, whenever I mentioned that I swam twice a week to stay in shape, shed scowl dismissively.
Why put yourself through all that? Youll only ruin your heart. At our age, you should be lounging on the sofa with a good book, not bathing in chlorine!
I, however, had no intention of spending my days idly on a settee. I wanted life in all its fullness.
The Turning Pointand a Lecture on Decency
Last night, I finally decided it was time to stop pretending to be some chaste innocent. Two months seemed ample time to discover if we suited one another.
We had dinner at a lovely little British bistro, savoured steak and kidney pie, and opened a bottle of decent red. Spirits were high; Margaret was laughing heartily at tales of her colleagues. I felt certain she was just an ordinary woman, so it was only natural to pursue a more candid conversation.
Afterwards, as we sat in my car with the rain speckling the windows, soft music drifting from the radio, I reached for her handand this time, she let it rest in mine.
Margaret, how about coming back to mine? We could have some tea and a little music.
She tensed instantly; her smile vanished, her face grew stony.
Graham, what exactly are you suggesting?
Im not being coylet me be direct. I like you. Youre single, Im single. Weve been seeing each other for over two months. Its only natural to want to be closer.
At this, Margaret unleashed a lengthy sermon about age, propriety, and higher spiritual bonds, leaving me quite taken aback.
Do you hear yourself? she admonished, her tone severe. Such things are for the young or for those starting families. Why would we want that? Its absurd. Just imagine how dreadful wed look, undressed. Ive a crease here, youve a belly thereugh! At our age, its about spiritual kinship, everyday support, firm friendship. But you think only of the physical.
I could hardly believe my ears. Was I some sort of brute for desiring a woman, after eight weeks of romantic effort?
Margaret, come now. What belly? I go to the gym, I assure you, alls well. And youre in fine shape for your years. Why resign yourself to the grave before your time? Who says that at fifty-six, life holds nothing but spiritual companionship?
Its the done thing! she snapped. Respectable women of my age devote themselves to grandchildren and gardens. Id be ashamed to face my children if I took on a man for, well that sort of thing.
I finally had enough and let out what had been building up inside me:
So you were never really after a partner! For two months, you dined at my expense, rode in my car, attended theatres with me. Didnt it embarrass you to accept so much from such a brute? But the moment I wished for genuine closeness, its suddenly disgusting.
She flushed, but more from anger than any embarrassment.
So you think because you bought dinners, I owe you everything?
Dont twist my words, I replied, outwardly calm, though seething inside. I courted you properly, as an old-fashioned gentleman, but genuine courting leads to something deeper. You just wanted a convenient companion with a wallet and a car.
She shot out of the car and slammed the door, barely glancing back, her posture stiff with pride. I didnt chase after hermatters were perfectly clear. I watched as she strode boldly to her building, feeling foolish for my own part.
I relish a philosophical chat, a good book, a bit of history. But Im still a living, breathing man with perfectly normal desires, and I refuse to suppress them just because someones got ironclad complexes about ageing and so-called dignity.
I deleted her number and closed my dating profile. Itll take a little time to recover from this circus.
Now Ive resolved: on any first date, Ill ask point blank about their view on intimacy. If I get another lecture on old age and grandchildren as lifes purpose, Ill split the bill and say good night.
But whats your opinion: was I right? Is it so outrageous at fifty-six to propose intimacy to a decent woman? And why do women sign up to dating sites if they believe their time for such things has already passed?
