It was on the fourth anniversary of my wife’s death that I got to thinking about trying internet dating. We had lived together very happily for 10 years and married just before her untimely death. After the inevitable grieving process, my life was slowly starting to come into focus again.
Dating after losing someone you love is strange: you feel unfaithful to their memory, but, at the same time, have been given an all-too-bitter lesson in life’s shortness.
I did miss having someone special to share things with but, like many men in their late 40s, my opportunities to meet women were limited.
I have never had any problem with women: thankfully, they like me. But I could not have guessed what I would be letting myself in for when I enrolled on a dating website; it was my introduction to a modern phenomenon, the older woman in search of sex.
After signing up, I looked at the profiles of the competition and concluded that most of them lacked humour. I decided that honesty would be the best policy. This is what I wrote: “Difficult, this bit, a little daunting, but here goes … I did a poll among my friends and asked for no more than five words to describe me. This is what topped the voting: 1) Very funny. 2) A good friend. 3) Loves “a bit of a do”. 4) Extremely good-looking (only kidding, I put that one in myself). 4b) Terrible loser. 5) Too cheerful by half.” I’ve got an ego as big as the next man, but even I was surprised to see that within 24 hours I had received 82 replies.
I had been on the site only a couple of weeks before I met the first of what was to become a steady procession of correspondents whom I quickly named POWs — predatory older women. She was waiting for me in the car park of the pub, standing next to her new version of the Beetle in a loud yellow. The vehicle, I soon came to understand, is your first clue to being in the company of a POW. (If she has a personalised number plate, you are normally in double trouble.)
Mary (52), as I will call her, appraised me carefully while saying hello. She was immaculately dressed in an Armani trouser suit — a seriously attractive woman.
We had been in each other’s company for a good 10 minutes when my next surprise came. We were sitting in a quiet corner of the pub when Mary told me in no uncertain terms that she was not looking for a serious relationship: what she wanted was uncomplicated sex three or four times a month. I must have looked shocked, because she raised a querying eyebrow. I recovered and asked if she was joking. Her reply still makes me smile. She said I looked like a man who would be “up for it”.
Mary had children and grandchildren, was financially secure and enjoyed taking holidays with female friends. To my astonishment, we started a passionate affair within days.
Fair play to your modern grandmothers — they know exactly what they want in bed, and are not afraid to demand it. If I had been a less stalwart man I would have felt intimidated. Thinking about it, I suppose it makes sense. Most single women over 50 will have had at least one long-term relationship. By that age, they’ve got rid of the kids, got rid of the man they don’t want, and now it is time for them.
Their needs mattered to them more than mine. But the sex was almost always terrific, they take care of their bodies, are not afraid to tell you exactly what you should be doing at any given time.
I was just getting to the nearly falling in love stage with Mary when she dumped me. That was another shock. The last time I had been dumped, I was wearing flares and had a size 30 waist. Mary had class: she told me she was getting too fond of me, so I had to go before I complicated her life. She was a lovely and formidable woman, very funny and excellent company. I would have been up for more commitment. I think it is more than likely that she had received a better offer.
Being dumped was the spur I needed to take the shutters from my eyes and enter the fray forearmed. I realised these women were looking for fun. I decided that is how I would treat it. And if I met a special one along the way, so much the better.
So I licked my wounds, jumped in again and met “Kay”, a sales director.
She drove a Saab convertible. Kay told me she was 48. I believed her until I saw the photos of her 50th birthday party on my first visit to her swanky home. She laughed at her gaffe, then distracted me by seducing me on the stairs. We did not even make it to the bedroom.
After Kay there was “Alice” and then there was “Sue” — all beautiful women. And, to be honest, I have been amazed that these gorgeous creatures found me attractive enough to want to use me physically.
They pay lip-service to romance — but I seriously believe that these women are not looking for intimacy and commitment.
I am something of an expert on non-commitment, so feel able to judge. I was well into my 30s before I did commit to someone. Since then, dating has changed completely. Women are frequently taking the lead. Us older men have to adapt as well, so I now let a woman buy me a drink, and talk me into bed. As for the dating website, I haven’t been on it for about a year. But I am ever optimistic, and still hoping to find the special person. — Â