After four months of chatting, she finally agreed to meet with her 52-year-old suitorhe started the conversation by reeling off five complaints.
They say the build-up to a big event is often sweeter than the event itself. In Emilys case, the anticipation dragged on for nearly four months, turning the whole thing into a sort of online serialfresh episodes each day.
By then, she knew Roberts likes and dislikes inside out, remembered the names of his childhood mates, and had even stopped raising an eyebrow at his odd habit of adding three ellipses after every Good morning.
Emily was forty-fivethe perfect age for going on a date not with butterflies in your stomach, but with the wry curiosity of an anthropologist. Lets see what kind of specimen pops up this time, she thought, getting ready.
She was the sort of woman who could wear a plain cashmere jumper and make it look like a coronation robe, armed with enough self-irony to diffuse any awkward situation.
Robert, having recently turned fifty-two, came across in messages as a serious, sensible sort with a touch of witand, what especially appealed to her, reliable.
At our age, Emily, hed write late at night, were not after fireworks anymore, but warmth. I want a woman who just understands, no need for words.
No need for words then, Emily would chuckle to herself while putting on mascara. The main thing was that the words that did slip through didnt make her want to bolt straight away.
They agreed to meet in a small, cosy café, all soft lighting and the scent of cinnamon. Emily turned up right on timecomposed, confident, and looking forward to a pleasant evening. Shed made sure to look flawless.
Robert arrived five minutes later. In real life, he seemed a little shorter than his profile photos, and his expression was as if hed just spotted a glaring error in the accounts.
He sat opposite, managed a brief smile and said hello.
There was no compliment, no warm, Lovely to finally meet you.
Robert surveyed Emily, as if conducting an inspection. Then he suggested coffee and puddingthey settled for that.
Emily, he began, in a tone befitting a headmaster about to address staff, Ive been analysing our correspondence. Almost four months now. Seeing you in person, I feel its best to lay out some important points immediately. I have five issues to raise with you.
Something inside her gave a small clangthe sort you get when a good mood cracks. Emily rested her chin on her hand and nodded.
Five issues? Thats intriguing. Go on, Im all ears.
Robert missed the irony, ticking off his first finger.
Complaint one: photos
In one of your pictures where youre in a blue dress, your shape looks quite different. Now I see youre more curvy. That can mislead a man. At our age, women ought to be more honest.
Emily smirked inwardly. Curvy is an upgradeIll take that over monumental, cheers.
Complaint two: response speed
At times, youre very slow to reply. For example, three weeks ago, I messaged at 2:15 pm and you didnt answer until 4:40 pm. Men dont like being kept waiting. Its disrespectful.
I think I was in a meeting she began, but Robert was already onto the next finger.
Complaint three: venue choice
Why are we here? This place is far too posh. I suggested somewhere simpler. Your choice signals a tendency for showy consumerism.
Emily glanced at her latte, half-tempted to pour it over his head. Curiosity won out.
Complaint four: appearance
Why the dress? Were just having coffee. Its too much for the daytime. And the jewelleryunnecessary. A womans appeal should be in her depth, not in sparkle. At my age, Im after substance, not a shopfront.
Complaint five: independence
You picked the café, you often say Ill do it myself. You dont let a man feel like a man. I want a woman who asks for advice, not one who flaunts her independence. If were together, youll need to reconsider your behaviour.
He finished and folded his arms over his chest, expecting, perhaps, repentance or thanks for his honesty.
Emily looked at him, and suddenly it hit her: these four months of messaging had been nothing more than a mask for a fussy manipulator. He wasnt looking for warmthhe wanted nothing more than a compliant ego-boost.
You know, Robert, she said softly, almost kindly, Ive done some analysing myself. Five minutes was enough for me.
And whats your verdict? he narrowed his eyes.
Youre a rare specimen. You trekked across the city just to present an invoice to a womanfor her taste, her looks, and her right to be herself. That takes a bold kind of confidence.
Robert frowned.
Im just being straightforward.
No, Emily shook her head. Not straightforward. Youre just miserable, trying to measure the world with a wonky ruler. Dont like my photos? Try a museumexhibits there never change. My replies take too long? Get yourself a Tamagotchi. My dress not to your liking? I wore it for me, not for you.
She stood, picked up her bag and looked him straight in the eye.
One last thing. If your ego cant survive a woman using the word myself, you dont need a romance, you need therapy. At forty-five, my time is too precious to waste on someone who kicks off a date by critiquing me.
Waitwhere are you off to? What about the coffee? Robert muttered.
Youll finish it yourself. Thatll save your resources. And a tip for youif you want someone hanging on your every word, book an appointment with your dentist.
Back at home, the first thing Emily did was block Robert on every messenger. At her age, comfort meant not just throws and quiet, but a phone clear of people trying to make her fit into their cramped little boxes.
What do you think: was this just an awkward attempt at flirting, or a perfectly rehearsed performance? And honestly, is it worth carrying on if someone tallies up your defects within the first five minutes?
