After four months of exchanging messages, I finally agreed to meet a 52-year-old suitorand he started our conversation with five criticisms.
People often say that the anticipation of an event is sweeter than the event itself. In Charlottes story, that anticipation stretched on for nearly four months, becoming a sort of online series with daily episodes.
Over that time, she grew to know Simons preferences in remarkable detail, memorised the names of his old school friends, and even ceased to be surprised by his habit of following every good morning with three ellipses.
Charlotte was forty-fivethe age when you approach a date not with trembling knees, but with the amused curiosity of an explorer. Lets see what sort of specimen turns up this time, she thought while getting ready.
She was one of those women who could wear a simple cashmere jumper as if it were ceremonial robes, and who possessed a self-deprecating wit that neutralised even the most awkward situations.
Simon, who had just turned fifty-two, came across in his messages as a serious, logical man with a dash of dry humour and, most appealing of all, as reliably steady.
At our age, Charlotte, he would write late in the evenings, were not searching for fireworks, but for warmth. I want to be with a woman who understands without words.
Without words, thenfair enough, Charlotte would smirk, touching up her mascara. The main thing was that whatever words were spoken didnt prompt an immediate urge to leave.
We arranged to meet at a small, cosy café with soft lighting and the scent of cinnamon drifting through the air. Charlotte arrived on timecomposed, confident, and set for a pleasant evening. She looked impeccable.
Simon appeared about five minutes later. In real life, he was a little shorter than he seemed in his pictures, and he wore the expression of someone whod just found a glaring error in an annual report.
He sat across from her, managed a brief smile and greeted her.
No compliment, not even a warm lovely to meet you.
He gave Charlotte a searching look, as if conducting an inspection. Then he suggested coffee and dessert, which she agreed to.
Charlotte, he began in a tone reminiscent of a stern deputy headteacher, Ive spent a long time considering our correspondence. Nearly four months. And now that Ive met you in person, I feel its important to state a few things up front. I have five criticisms to discuss.
Something inside her quietly clinkedthe way a good mood often shatters. Charlotte rested her chin on her hand and nodded.
Five criticisms? Sounds intriguing. Im all ears.
Simon missed the irony entirely and raised his first finger.
Criticism one: photographs
In one of your photos, the blue dress one, your figure appears different. Now, I see youre a bit more curvaceous. This can be misleading for a man. At our age, a woman should be more honest.
Charlotte smirked to herself. Curvaceouscould be worse. Thank heavens he didnt say monumental.
Criticism two: response times
Sometimes you reply far too slowly. For example, three weeks ago, I messaged you at 2:15 pm, and you didnt reply until 4:40 pm. Men dont like waiting. It shows a lack of respect.
I believe I was in a meeting just then she started, but Simon was already counting the next one.
Criticism three: venue choice
Why this place? Its much too pretentious. I suggested somewhere simpler. Your choice suggests a tendency towards showing off.
Charlotte glanced at her latte and, for a fleeting moment, wanted to pour it over Simons head. Curiosity, however, won out.
Criticism four: appearance
Why the dress? Were only meeting for coffee. Its far too much for the afternoon. The jewellery is unnecessary too. A woman should attract with her substance, not her sparkle. At my age, Im after depth, not a shop window.
Criticism five: independence
You chose the café yourself, you often say Ill do it myself. You dont allow a man to feel like a man. I need a woman who asks for advice, not one who constantly asserts her independence. If were to be together, youll have to change your behaviour.
He finished and folded his arms, clearly awaiting either repentance or gratefulness for his honesty.
Charlotte looked at him and it hit her in a moment of clarity: four months of messaging had only disguised the fact that he was just a mild-mannered control freak. He wasnt seeking warmthhe simply wanted someone to stroke his ego.
You know, Simon, she said gently, almost kindly, Ive been analysing all this as well. It took me about five minutes to reach a conclusion.
And that would be? he asked, squinting.
You really are a rare sort. Youve crossed the whole city just to present a bill to a woman youve only just met, for her taste, her looks, and her right to be herself. Thats a remarkable level of self-confidence.
Simon frowned. Im merely being honest.
No, Charlotte shook her head. Youre not honest. Youre just unhappy, and you measure the world with a warped ruler. Not happy with my photos? Go to the National Portrait Gallerythose exhibits never change. My slow replies? Buy yourself a Tamagotchi. Dont like my dress? I wore it for me, not for you.
She stood up, adjusted her bag, and looked at him calmly.
And one last thing. If your ego cant handle the word independent, then you need counselling, not a partner. At forty-five, I value my time far too much to spend it with someone who starts off by auditing my flaws.
Where are you going? What about the coffee? Simon mumbled.
You can finish it yourself. Itll save you money. And one more tipif you want someone hanging on your every word, try a dentist.
At home, Charlottes first move was to block Simon everywhere. For her, comfort was not just a blanket and peace, but also a phone free from those trying to shrink her into their twisted ideals.
My takeaway? If someone comes prepared with a list of your faults before youve even finished your coffee, its not poor flirtingits a one-man show youre better off abandoning before curtain call.
