28October2025
Ive been turning the day over in my mind like a coin, trying to make sense of what Arthur said to me in the quiet of the clinic. You know, Poppy, people like you never get married, he said calmly, as if delivering the weather forecast. There are women for love and a good time, and there are those who keep themselves until the wedding. Unfortunately, youre not one of the latter.
I stared at him, bewildered, because Id always thought he was more than just a patient. What is it about me you find unsuitable, Arthur? I cook well, I look presentable, my home is tidy. As a woman, do I not please you?
He smiled thinly. Thats the problem! Youre already spoilt. Understand this: men like me dont take women like you as wives. We only dateno strings attached. We marry virgins, the kind youd call pure, and youre the first to think you could be one. He even quoted that old saying about washing a mans feet and drinking the waterlike it meant something. He turned to the wall and snored, satisfied with his last remark.
Just a week earlier Id been at the café with my friends, spilling my plans like tea. Life is finally falling into place, Id said, Thirty and not exactly a girl anymore, but I have a career, a flat, a car, I look great. I could even settle down and have children! And there was a new candidate, almost like a dream. Arthur, never married, lives on his own, though he bought a flat next to his mothers. Fourteen years my senior, handsome, wellkept, almost free of bad habits, and holds a senior post. Pure luck.
Wed met at workhed come in as a dental patient and left with a crush. I was juggling shifts at the NHS clinic and a private practice, so personal time was scarce. Yet he brought me flowersno ordinary roses, but peoniesin February, took me out to a restaurant, and the whole world seemed to spin.
Only one thing nagged at me: two years into the relationship and no proposal. My friends kept nudging, Its time, Poppy. I felt it too, so I broached the subject before bed. His reply? I was spoiled, not marriage material.
My mind refused to accept it. What right does he have to decide that? The next evening I met my friends again for counsel.
Imagine, girls, I began, he told me Im no longer that sort of woman! That men like him never marry someone like me!
Youre serious? exclaimed Katie. Youre gorgeous, brilliant, independent!
He says he only marries virgins. He calls me a thirdrate, defective sort. Yet in every other way hes perfect: smart, wealthy, great in bed.
Poppy, drop him before he shatters your selfesteem, Lila scoffed.
Better yet, bring him over to our place! Mike and I are celebrating ten years of marriage. Let him see what a real family looks like, added Katie.
We decided to invite him. Arthur, who usually shuns such gatherings, surprisingly agreed and even drove himself. I could already feel the relief of not having to be the one steering us back.
At Katie and Mikes country house everything felt homey: children laughing, barbecues, birds chirping, and their dog Skipper darting about as if powered by an invisible battery. The feast stretched from midday till evening. The adults eventually retired, children fell asleep, and around the table remained the regulars the friends, the hosts, and Arthur.
We sipped tea with a berry tart, chatting, when Arthur launched into his familiar spiel:
Tell me, Katie, why is Poppy still single? Youve been married ten years.
Not everyone falls in love on their third year of university, like me, Katie shrugged. Back then I was studying and working, had no time.
Did you marry as a virgin?
Are you kidding? Katie laughed. Mike and I have been together since our first year!
But wasnt he the first?
Do you want to see my passport? Mike retorted. I married her and thats that.
See? She was pure. Thats respect. Marrying a woman whos had a few before you would be a disgrace to the family!
What kind of noble lineage demands a spotless past? Lila joked. So why give Poppy any hope?
I never promised anyone anything, Arthur shrugged. Your friend should understand shes a secondrate woman. Marriage to her would need serious reasons, which I dont see.
So Im basically thirdrate, divorced, with a child, Lila smiled. Poor you, sir. You and your bloodline.
How dare you speak about the women in my house? Mike snapped. Sorts you are! Youre an overripe herring! He grabbed Arthur and hauled him outside. At two metres tall and solidly built, it was easy.
Get out! I wont let you ruin the celebration. If it werent for the girls, Id have already given you a good beating. Youre not a guest.
Poppy, Im leaving. Are you coming with me or staying? Arthur declared proudly, snatching his bag.
I burst into laughter, unable to answer. He left without waiting for my reaction, slamming the gate behind him.
Thanks, Mike, I giggled. Thats it. No more men, not even an overripe one!
Bad idea trying to enlighten him about marriage, Katie said, smiling. What a character! Girls, listen: Im the firstrate sort, and youre already somewhere else.
The jokes carried us through the night. Later Lila drove me home. The clinics routine resumed: patients, charts, and medical histories.
Arthur never called again.
MsPoppyDavies, a letter has been left at reception.
Thanks, Lily, Ill look at it later.
After my shift I opened the envelope. Inside was .
