I just turned sixty and, honestly, the loneliness hit me hard. My marriage ended years ago and my only son lives abroad, so Im on my own.
Dont you have to be alone, Em? my mate Claire kept saying.
Where am I supposed to find a prince now? I sighed. All my friends are wornout, their eyes have lost the sparkle. They need a carer, not a partner!
Give the younger blokes a chance. You still look smashing! she laughed.
Her words stuck with me, and before I knew it, I met Tom.
He was fifty, divorced, with an adult daughter living on her own. We started chatting, then meeting for coffee, and eventually he moved into my flat. I felt on cloud nine.
But, in time, I saw his motives were different.
My first husband was a real burden. He never worked, lived off my earnings, blew his cash on the pub and was always taking things from the house. I put up with it, thinking that was just how it was.
Then one day something clicked. I gathered his belongings, left them by the front door and closed the door on him for good. What a relief that was!
After the divorce I had a few admirers, but I kept my distance. The past few years have been especially tough. My son went off to Canada for work and decided to stay there permanently. I was happy for him, but I knew chasing after him wasnt an option. Changing country, habits, a whole life that wasnt for me.
Em, you cant be on your own forever. Find someone, Claire urged again.
Where? All the men my age look tired and beaten down. Theyre not after love; they just need someone to look after them.
Why not look at younger men? she suggested.
It sounded ridiculous then, but soon enough fate took its turn.
Every day in the little park outside my block Id see a tall, fit bloke walking his dog, a bit of silver at his temples. At first it was just glances, then brief greetings, and before I knew it Tom had slipped into my routine.
Hed bring me flowers, invite me for walks, spin funny tales. I felt like Id blossomed again! Neighbours whispered, some were jealous, some judged, but I didnt care.
When Tom finally moved in, I was actually delighted. I cooked him hearty meals, washed his laundry, looked after him Everything was lovely until one afternoon he said:
You could walk my dog, itd be good for you to get out more.
Lets do it together, I offered.
He hesitated. We shouldnt be seen together too often
It felt like a cold splash of water. Was he embarrassed? Had he just found a convenient housekeeper to feed and look after him?
That evening I confronted him. Tom, household chores should be shared. You can wash your own shirts.
He stared, then gave a smug smile. You wanted a younger man, right? Then youve got to look after him. Otherwise, why am I even here?
I stayed silent for three seconds, then said, Youve got half an hour to pack your stuff and go.
What? I cant! My daughter just brought her boyfriend over to the flat.
So youll both live together then! I replied, slamming the door.
I felt no pain, no regretjust a light pang of sadness.
I was alone again. Once more I wondered: can someone my age ever find a true, honest love? Or is that just a fairytale fed to us by movies and books? I dont have an answer yet, but one things clear: Im not here for anyone else. Im here for myself.
