I decided for myself, without having to be told by some cheeky Gen X male, that perhaps I would have more luck with an older gentleman. I thought their were lots of advantages to outweigh the disadvantage that a significant chunk of his lifespan has come and gone. Assuming that is a disadvantage. And I guess for some women it might not be. But I am not of a mercenary ilk. What I was looking for, and what I thought I would find, was a man who was confident, successful, financially secure, gentlemanly, rational. Basically, a grown up. Because that was one of the things that I was really beginning to sense - in almost all of the relationships I had had, I was the grown up. Regardless of the physical age of the man, they all seemed immature, insecure, petulant, hysterical even. So how wonderful the idea of it seemed - a man who had everything under control, could deal with any eventuality. *sigh* And of course we women are turned on by power, it's how biology works, so there too I saw no problem. I thought it might take a little while of getting to know this gallant silver knight before I was physically attracted to him, but with my track record that wasn't a bad thing!
So, I found myself a man. He looked his age (officially 57 but perhaps a couple of years more) but was an attractive man. He had his hair and was still slim and fit. He liked boating and flying, diving and swimming. He had been married twice and was on friendly terms with both his ex wives, especially the second with whom he had two daughters (11 and 15). He owned and ran a global business and travelled a lot, being out of the country more than he was in it. He was very gallant but also very no-nonsense and confident. Perfect!
It had been a case of "ask and you shall receive". I had been out with a small group of girlfriends and we had dropped into a bar after a meal. He was at the bar, we started talking and he asked me out! I'm not at all sure that, had I not already had my thoughts re older men, I would have welcomed his attentions. Maybe that's why it happened, because I was more receptive than previously. Let's face it, he'd had a lot of years to suss we ladies out!
We exchanged a few emails and he asked me to join him for dinner at a very good French restaurant quite near to where he lived. I got all dressed up and set off, thinking this was all going splendidly, just as planned. I arrived, expecting him to be there already but no, he wasn't at a table, and no there wasn't a booking. To make matters worse, I couldn't remember his surname, a fact I had to admit to the maitre'd when he was looking for the reservation. Rather embarrassing...
The very nice maitre'd suggested that perhaps my date was waiting for me at the bar. We walked up to the bar and I surveyed what they had on offer. Was it strange that there were 4 or so older gentlemen seated at the bar?? Is that normal?? I've never noticed! "Are any of these gentlemen he?" whispered Laurent, the caring maitre'd. "Ummm... I don't THINK so... That one there might be... but I don't think so". "Excusez-moi, Monsieur. Are you Robaire (Robert)? Are you dining with this young lady this evening?" Not-Robert: "No, I am Dennis, and I hadn't planned to but I would certainly be willing to dine with this young lady" Followed by wolfish smile. Okay... I was feeling rather out of my depth by this stage.
After humiliating me, Laurent sat me at a window table and kept me supplied with delicious pane and mineral water. I was determined to stay put for an hour and turned my burning cheeks resolutely towards the window, expecting any moment to recognise my dashing older companion for the evening. At the end of the hour, helpful bloody Laurent had said everything from "pair'aps you 'ave ze date wrong?" "pair'aps 'ee 'as forgotten?" to "'ave you met zis man before, eh?" and on to "pair'aps 'is wife, you know??" waggling his finger at me. I swear he said "oo la la!"
Now I'm sure that, by this stage, you have one very simple question - why didn't I call this Robert and find out what had happened? Well obviously because I didn't have his number. Why? Well I'm not proud but basically I was way cocky. I had set out so sure of success that I hadn't provided myself with a contact number, easily taken from his card. Nor had a remembered his surname. Hell, I hadn't even recalled what he looked like, beyond - about yea tall with grey hair. Helpful! I had, however, emailed that afternoon to confirm plans, and confirmed they were. It was because of that confirmation that I was feeling quite uneasy. Uneasy enough to become restless when I heard sirens, knowing that he lived just down the street.
Laurent was very nice and waved his hand back and forth when I asked for the bill. I think I had given him his entertainment for the night, he was quite willing to absorb the cost of my bread and water on the back of that. I made my way home, fairly despondent you could well imagine. Once home I checked my emails, nothing. I called the mobile number on his card but it was switched off. I left a message and also sent an email, saying - I waited for you etc. Hope you're okay. Please get back to me so I know you're alright.
Nothing. I had to wait 3 days to find out the story. Yes, they were his sirens! He had found out that day that he had colon cancer. He decided to brazen it out and meet me for dinner, only to have a heart attack as he was dressing!
SURELY, once they had stabilised him, one of the ambulance crew could have stuck his head around the door of Le Chat Noir. SURELY. I mean, they were going that way anyway.
Okay, maybe not their priority.
Let me say that Robert made a startlingly swift recovery after being operated on for the cancer. The heart attack was minor, but a good pointer to his doctor that attention was needed in that area. As far as I know, he is in near perfect health. I kept in touch sporadically for the first month or so, just to see how he was doing. It was easy to tell that he was the sort of man who didn't want people to see him down, so after I knew his operation had gone well and he was recuperating, I left him alone. He got in touch about 3 or 4 months later to see if I would like to give dinner another go, but by then I was well gun shy of the older man. Other stories, another time, but suffice to say I was happy enough to let passing ships honk and move on.
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