I spent two months wining and dining a 56-year-old lady. But the moment I suggested coming back to mine, she dropped the mask faster than you can say tea and biscuits.
Five years ago, I divorced without much drama and settled into a comfortable bachelor routine. Lately, though, coming home to an empty flat has gone from being a peaceful solace to feeling more like solitary confinement.
Im 56, in good nick health-wise, with plenty of energy. I figured its time to dip my toe into the world of online dating, hoping to meet someone for something more permanent. Much to my surprise, by the end of the first week, Id struck luckya truly intriguing woman seemed to have appeared.
Her profile was simple:
Margaret, 56, widow, seeking a genuine gentleman for a serious relationship.
The photo showed a pleasant womanno airs or graces, just a warm smile and kind eyes. We started texting right away. I was up-front: I wasnt after never-ending online chit-chat; I wanted a real relationshipsomeone to share daily life and the odd getaway to the coast. Margaret agreed, and we made plans to meet in central Manchester that weekend.
That first date was lovely. We wandered for agesthe weather was oddly perfect for England. She chatted about work and grandkids, I listened with enthusiasm and nodded along like a polite garden gnome. She seemed calm and didnt motor-mouth her way through the evening. Later, I took her to a café and paid, of coursecall me old school, but if you invite a lady out, you cover the bill.
So began our classic flowers and chocs courtship phase. As you might guess, I provided all floral arrangements and sweet treats, but it was pleasant for both of us. Every Friday and Saturday wed enjoy a packed schedule of cultured evenings. Now, I wouldn’t call myself tight-fisted, but if I add up the last two months of this courtship, my wallets had quite an adventure.
We went to the theatre and always rounded off the night with a restaurant mealstrictly my treat. One week it was a stone carving exhibition, then it was a concert, next a day trip to the countryside for a hearty Sunday roast.
I aimed to be the model of a gentleman, convinced we were drawing closer. Shed smile sweetly, link her arm in mine, and say:
Oh Simon, youre such a good companionso charming.
Flattering, really.
But looking back, I should have paid more attention to her behaviour.
For starters, she never once invited me to her placenot for a cuppa, not for a peek at her stamp collection. The excuses ran on a loop: Oh, I havent tidied up, My granddaughters round, Work absolutely knackered melets stick to Costa. I thought perhaps she was just shyliving alone, maybe not used to having a man visit. I certainly didnt press her, just waited for the right moment.
Then there were the odd conversations about age. If it was about dinner out, a weekend away, or a trip to the leisure centresuddenly she was full of youthful enthusiasm! Shed suggest going to the seaside, maybe a spa day at some godforsaken village hotel. But the second I tried to take things into a more personal realma touch on her arm or handshe morphed into a stern headmistress.
One time at the cinema, I gently rested my hand on her knee. Just my hand, nothing bold. Instantly, she whisked it away with impressive speed:
Simon, people are watching.
Margaret, its pitch darkno ones paying attention.
Thats not the point. Its unseemly. Were not a pair of teenagers sneaking cider in the back row.
I chalked it up to her strict upbringing. Maybe she really was old-fashioned, and I ought to be patient. But I began feeling uneasy. Were not sixteentime is precious. Were too old for endless rounds of social niceties with no real progress.
She also loved describing her various ailments in excruciating detail. Everyone at our age has a dodgy back or iffy blood pressurethats lifebut she took genuine delight in telling me all about her lower back issues and the comparative advantages of different statins.
I listened attentively, offered sympathy, even suggested seeing a good doctor I know. But the moment I mentioned my bi-weekly swimming regime to stay in shape, she frowned:
Why bother with all that? Youll only knock yourself up. At our age, you should be lounging on a sofa reading P. G. Wodehouse, not splashing around in chlorine!
I had no desire to permanently install myself on a settee. I want to actually live, not just exist.
So yesterday, I had enough of beating around the bush. Two months of this was surely long enough to see if we were a match.
We had dinner at a lovely gastropubsmashed through a mountain of sticky toffee pudding and shared a bottle of Merlot. She was in high spirits, regaling me with hilarious work stories. I thought, Shes lovelytime for an honest conversation.
After dinner, we sat in my car. Light rain outside, the heater on, soft background music. I gently took her hand; this time, she didnt pull away.
Margaret, fancy coming back to mine? Bit of tea, tunes, maybe raid the biscuit tin?
In a heartbeat, she stiffened, smile dropped, eyes steely.
Simon, just what are you suggesting?
Im not suggestingIm being direct. I like you. Were both unattached. Weve been seeing each other for ages. Isnt it natural to want to be closer?
She then launched into a speech about age, dignity, and higher values that nearly gave me whiplash.
Are you listening to yourself? she barked. Thats for the young, for people with time on their side. What would we even look like, honestly? All saggy bits and wrinkles. At our age, its all about spiritual connection, mutual support, platonic love. You only care about the physical. Thats shallow.
I was gobsmacked. Evidently, after eight weeks of dinners and bouquets, Id transformed overnight into a lecherous animal.
Margaret, hang onI go to the gym, all in decent shape, and you look terrific for your years. Why bury yourself alive before its necessary? Who says life at 56 stops being interesting?
Its the done thing! she snapped. Respectable women our age mind the grandchildren and grow tomatoes. Id die of shame if my kids caught wind of me carrying on with a man.
I couldnt take it any longer.
So you havent been looking for a partneryou wanted a friendly chauffeur with deep pockets! Two months of dinner, theatre, giftsno shame in all that, but physical affections disgusting?
She went beetroot rednot from embarrassment, but fury.
You think that just because youve bought a few dinners, I owe you anything in return?
Dont twist my words, I replied, smiling despite the steam coming out of my ears. I was courting you sincerely, hoping things would develop naturally. You just wanted a chum with a car and a bulging wallet.
She bolted from the car, slamming the door for emphasis. I let her go. Watched her march into her block of flats, feeling both annoyed and a bit foolish.
I love a good natter over books and history as much as the next man. But Im aliveI have normal desires, and Im not ready to dry up and blow away because a lady has convinced herself her best years are buried under her pensioner bus pass.
I deleted her number and my dating profile straight away. A full system reboot is required after this farce.
Now, new rule: first date, Ill ask outright about attitudes to intimacy. If I get another monologue about grandkids as the meaning of life, Ill suggest splitting the bill and say cheerio.
What do you thinkis it truly indecent at 56 to hope for more than Scrabble and polite conversation? And honestly, why do some people register on these sites if theyve already thrown in the emotional towel?
