For some reason, a lot of women seem to think that once they hit forty, especially if they’ve been through one or two divorces, thats it lifes over. Im in the same boat myself. Ive been married twice. The first time was when I was young, and out of that came my daughter. The second time I got married was when I was thirty. Neither marriage lasted more than two years. There was always something off when it came to the men.
Of course, after my second marriage ended, I did date a bit here and there, but it never turned serious enough to head down the aisle again. Im forty-five now, and despite it all, I still believe happiness is possible and that my true soulmate is out there somewhere waiting for me. To cut a long story short, just a month ago I bumped into a man on the street. His name is Mark, hes forty-nine. I was taking a stroll through Hyde Park I like to look after myself, always well turned out and I decided to stop at a café for a coffee.
Mark approached and struck up a conversation. Now, he wasnt exactly what Id call my perfect man, but he was well-groomed and presentable enough. We chatted for a bit and he bought me another coffee. Naturally, I asked straight away whether he had a wife or girlfriend, and he gave a rather evasive answer. It was very clear he was involved with someone in some kind of way. Nevertheless, I invited him back to mine for a cup of tea and some cake Id baked the day before. I know, some would say it was quite mad to invite a stranger home, but several friends saw us together, so I wasnt worried. Besides, Mark didnt seem the dangerous sort.
We got to my flat, stepped into the hallway, and Mark glanced round before giving a cheeky little laugh.
You’ve got quite a spacious flat. Looks like it hasnt been decorated in about fifteen years.
I pretended I had no idea what he was going on about. Truth be told, I last did up the place ten years ago, but it still looks fine to me. Why sink money into wallpaper and ceilings when I could be investing in myself? I hardly think thats the wrong approach.
I brought Mark his tea and a slice of cake. We sat together, and sure enough, he started on again about my flat. I told him directly, What difference does it make what my place is like? Why dont you invite me round to yours instead? That shut him up completely. The evening fizzled out after that. He went home promising to ring me in a week.
A whole week went by without as much as a text or call, and then, late on Saturday night, he suddenly messaged to say he fancied popping over. Well, I told him if he was coming round now, hed have to help with some decorating come over and well put up new wallpaper together. All of a sudden, he remembered something urgent hed forgotten, said hed call me next week. I have a sneaking suspicion hes married and on the lookout for a wealthy woman to have a secret dalliance with. Well, thats not me. No matter though. What truly matters is that all we really had in common was a bit of companionship. Im sure Ill find real love one day I truly believe that. My advice to other women is this: If a man wont lift a finger for you, what on earth do you need him for?
