It is often said that the anticipation of an event can prove sweeter than the event itself. Looking back now, Eleanors story is a perfect example, as her period of waiting had stretched almost four months, evolving into a daily drama with the regularity of an online serial.
Throughout those months, Eleanor became familiar with the tastes of Edward, down to the smallest details. She memorised the names of his childhood friends and had even ceased to be surprised by his odd habit of ending every good morning with three full stops.
Eleanor was forty-five at the timean age when one approaches a date not with trembling nerves but with the ironic curiosity of a seasoned observer. Lets see what sort of specimen turns up this time, she mused as she got ready.
She belonged to that rare group of women who could don a simple cashmere jumper and make it seem like regalia, and her gift for self-deprecating humour was enough to diffuse even the most awkward moments.
Edward, who had just celebrated his fifty-second birthday, struck her as a serious soul in their correspondencethoughtful, quietly witty, and, most reassuringly, reliable.
At our stage in life, Eleanor, he wrote late at night, people arent seeking fireworks anymore, just warmth. One wants to be with a woman who understands without the need for words.
Without words, then, Eleanor smiled to herself, brushing her lashes. All she hoped was that the words spoken wouldnt make her bolt for the exit.
They arranged to meet in a small, cosy café with gentle lighting and the warm scent of cinnamon. Eleanor arrived on timecomposed, confident, anticipating a pleasant evening. Her appearance was impeccable.
Edward turned up about five minutes later. He was somewhat shorter than his photos suggested, and his expression was precisely the sort one might wear upon discovering a critical error in an accounts ledger.
He sat opposite her, offered a terse smile and a brief greeting.
No compliment, no friendly good to see you.
Edward looked Eleanor over as though conducting an audit, then suggested ordering coffee and dessertwhich they did.
Eleanor, he began, in the firm tone of a head teacher at staff meeting, Ive spent considerable time analysing our correspondence. Close to four months. Now, meeting you in person, I feel it prudent to lay out some important points right away. I have five concerns to raise with you.
Within, Eleanor felt a quiet chimelike the sound of ones mood shattering. She rested her chin on her hand and nodded.
Five concerns? Thats intriguing. Im all ears.
Edward missed her irony and held up his first finger.
In one of your photographs, the blue dress, your figure appears noticeably different. Seeing you now, youre more pronounced. This can mislead a gentleman. At our age, women should be more honest.
Eleanor privately smirked. Pronouncedat least its not monumental. Progress, perhaps.
Second concern: response time.
You reply slowly, at times. For instance, three weeks ago, I messaged at 2.15pm and you replied only at 4.40pm. Men dislike waiting. Its a sign of disrespect.
I think I was in a meeting then she started to explain, but Edward was already ready with his next point.
Third concern: venue choice.
Why are we here? This café is too pretentious. I suggested something more modest. It shows you have a penchant for conspicuous consumption.
Eleanor glanced at her latte and felt a fleeting urge to pour it over Edwards head. Curiosity won out.
Why that dress? We’re just having coffee, nothing more. Its too attention-seeking for this hour. The jewellery is excessive as well. A woman ought to attract with depth, not sparkle. At my age, I seek substance, not display.
Fifth concern: independence.
You chose the restaurant yourself, you often say Ill do it myself. You deny a man the chance to feel like a man. I require a woman who asks for advice, not one who flaunts her independence. If were to be together, youll need to revise your behaviour.
He finished, folded his arms, and clearly expected either repentance or gratitude for his straight-talking.
Eleanor saw him now with utter clarity: four months of messages had simply been a convenient mask for a fastidious manipulator. He hadnt been searching for warmthhed been seeking a compliant ego boost.
You see, Edward, she said gently, almost kindly, I have been analysing too. And it took me five minutes to come to my own conclusion.
Which is? he squinted.
Youre a remarkable specimen. You trekked across town just to hand a bill to a woman youve only just metfor her taste, her appearance, and her right to be herself. Thats an extraordinary level of self-assurance.
Edward frowned.
Im simply being honest.
No, Eleanor shook her head. Youre not honest; youre unhappy, and youre trying to measure the world with a crooked ruler. Dont like my photos? Visit a galleryexhibits there dont change. I reply slowly? Buy yourself a Tamagotchi. Dont like my dress? I wore it for myself, not for you.
She stood, straightened her bag, and looked at Edward calmly:
And lastly. If your ego crumbles at the word myself, you need rehabilitation, not romance. At forty-five, my time is too precious to waste on someone who begins acquaintance with a review of my shortcomings.
Where are you off to? And the coffee? Edward muttered.
Finish the coffee yourself. Itll help your resource efficiency. And one tip: if you want people peering into your mouthmake an appointment with the dentist.
Back home, Eleanors first act was to block Edward across all messaging apps. At her age, comfort meant not just a blanket and quiet, but a phone free of people trying to squeeze her into their warped templates.
So, what do you think: was it an awkward attempt at romance, or a carefully rehearsed performance? And should you carry on with someone who, from the very first moment, tallies up a bill for the person you are?
