Copyright@ Gerry Rose

 Following the encounter with Alan and Rhona, Sue tidied up her dating diary and emailed it to them. Sue disliked the concept of couples sharing email accounts. She felt this smacked of a lack of individuality and possibly trust issues. She hated  ‘joined at the hip’ couples. She was aware that she was probably a tad jealous of such couples. She had never been joined at the hip with anyone.

Date number one.

Tony 67, retired fireman from Hangleton.

 His photo showed a fit man, with the sort of hair that is quite challenging to hairbrushes, unless they are one of those new detanglers. He was blonde and I have always been attracted to blondes, ever since I used to ogle at Tom Pender in my sociology O’level course. Being a brunette, a blonde man always held a sort of vibe about opposites being attracted to each other.  At least he has hair, as most of the men over 60 seem to be bald. He sounded jovial over the phone. I did not think he would share my love of literature and theatre, as he told me he struggled to understand Shakespeare, but loved the musical ‘Oliver’. I didn’t want to reveal my Dickens snobbery before meeting him. He loved to travel which is something we have in common. He seemed pleasant and normal enough, so we arranged to have a coffee at Hove lagoon at the café owned by Fat Boy Slim. It was not too far from my home and I would feel safe being out in the open with mothers and their toddlers. It did not strike me as the sort of place where a dodgy person would get away with anything. We would be surrounded by yummy mummies drinking flat whites and kiddies munching humous and crudites brought from home and being indulged with a babyccino on a Friday morning in June.

 I arrived 5 minutes before we had agreed to meet and scanned the horizon for a toned man with wild blonde hair. He was nowhere to be seen. Having bought a coffee I sat at one of the picnic style tables and waited. The coffee was good which was some compensation. Then I spotted a somewhat rotund man trying to negotiate the path from the coast road towards our agreed venue. By the time he had reached me he was sweating profusely, out of breath and unable to speak. I realised that Tony’s days of carrying out the fireman’s lift were well and truly over. Once he had caught his breath and had apologised for his late arrival, I encouraged him to get himself a coffee. When he eventually returned to the table having stood in the queue for what seemed like far too long, I waited to see if he was a talker, or a listener. He was a talker.

 He had 3 failed marriages. His last wife sounded a little crazy as she had changed her name by deed poll to Marilyn Monroe! He told me about his love of Thailand which I am afraid I always find slightly suspicious.

We finished our coffees and I suggested a walk along the seafront towards Brighton. Unfortunately Tony was unable to walk and talk. When he got even redder in the face and breathless I suggested we said our goodbyes. I did not want to deal with a medical emergency and would not be able to consider mouth to mouth resuscitation.

He looked a little disappointed when my reply to his suggestion that we met again was ‘let’s ponder’. A second date with Tony was never going to happen.

Date number two.

Gunter 66 Psychotherapist (or was he?). Resident of Hove.

I decided that I should be seeking my intellectual equal. I should be dating someone who had at least a degree, or the equivalent. I am a retired Community Matron after all. My hobbies and interests were plain for all to see. What would a woman like me have in common with someone who could barely string a sentence together? My friends tell me that men always punch above their weight on these sites and women settle for men who are just available and show them some interest. The competition on these sites seems fierce. There are women who are obviously looking for sugar daddies and men are quite simple creatures really.

When I spotted Gunter, a German Psychotherapist I was delighted. When he winked back at me I was for a short while imagining a bright future with a sensitive intelligent man. We exchanged a few messages but I stuck to my game plan and spoke to him quite quickly. I told all of my matches that I was not looking for a pen pal. Gunter lived close by, which was an added bonus.

 He sounded very German on the phone. He was a widower, He and his Psychotherapist wife had enjoyed 40 years together. I must admit that this did scare me. how could I follow that? How could I fill that huge void?

 He suggested that we met for a cup of tea at Meeting Point near the Peace Statue. He texted me the day before to ask me if he could bring his ‘four-legged friend’, I assumed he meant his dog. He too was late! I watched him ambling towards me with his dog. He seemed to feel no urgency to hurry to meet me. He allowed his ‘four-legged friend’ to sniff and pee on every blade of grass. He saw me waiting yet seemed to feel no need to speed up. How rude I thought. I felt he was even ruder when he proffered no apologies or explanation as to why he was late. I imagined that if any of his clients were late he would read great significance into this and would feel the need to enter a deep discussion about their boundaries.

 We found a table and he went and ordered tea. He then sat next to me with his dog on his lap. Gunter seemed to find it hard to maintain eye contact. I didn’t mind because he didn’t have very nice eyes. He had piggy eyes. My mother would have described them as being like two burnt holes in a blanket! His eyes gave me the impression that they were the window to an empty soul. There was something untrustworthy about him. I have met many liars in my time and this man was a natural liar.

 He was very attentive to the dog, a Dachshund of course. He seemed to use it like a transitional object. He kept stroking its ears. The dog was facing me and I suddenly realised that it had a huge erection. Gunter of course was totally unaware of this. The dog (whose eyes were soft and gentle) stared at me and I took some strange comfort however bizarre that may seem, in the fact that the dog seemed to fancy me. Gunter told me he was a very tactile man. He moved from stroking the dog’s ears to removing what I can only describe as ‘eye snot’ from the dog’s eyes. If this was not bad enough, he then fed this to the dog. I looked at Gunter’s hands and I thought tactile or not, those hands were never coming anywhere near me. Suffice to say date number two would not be happening!

 I always believe that we all grow by receiving feedback. I sent the following message to Gunter.

Gunter you claim you are a Psychotherapist yet you did not meet me at the time agreed. You must realise that this gave me the message that you did not consider me or our date to be important. You spent most of the date petting your dog and removing what only could be described as ‘eye snot’ from the dog, which you then fed to the dog. You were at pains to tell me what a tactile person you are. All I will say is your hands will never come anywhere near me. There won’t be a second date. Good bye.

Date number 3 Ian from Portslade.

I met Ian after a brief chat on the phone. He had a lovely New Zealand accent. We met at a country pub near Hassocks and we both drank coffee. Ian was better looking in the flesh than on his profile. He seemed quite youthful for his 63 years. He had a toned body and a full head of hair. I have never fancied bald men unfortunately. We chatted easily and agreed that it would be good to meet again. Date 2 was for a coffee in Shoreham. On date 2 Ian got a little amorous. He also told me about his sexual encounters and what he considered his ‘game changers’. By date 3 yet another coffee date, he told me that I made him horny. I realised that he was one of the guys you meet on the internet who are there just for sex. I like to be wooed and am always happy to go Dutch with any bill. It became blatantly obvious that for the generous outlay of the cost of 3 coffees, Ian felt he could invite me to his flat for the next date. He asked me if I liked pasta. I thought oh yes a lovely cheap meal. He said that he was pleased that I didn’t drink alcohol as he felt wine was overpriced in this country. BTW his game changers were women who had small nipples and called out his name during sex. He said he also didn’t like women who didn’t keep their ‘foliage’ trimmed.

 I have recently learned that young people call people like Ian ‘fuck boys’. I think it is about time that men who behave in this manner have a term to describe them which is less than flattering. Back in the day women who slept around were always called sluts. Men who did the same were known as studs!

 I told Ian that I had too much self-esteem to fall for his charms. I don’t think Ian will ever grow-up. It was so obvious that his own sexual needs came first and foremost. I felt sorry for the women who fell for his charm and then found out that there was no future in the relationship because their nipples were far too small and they were unwilling to conform to Ian’s exacting standards regarding the pruning of their pubic hairs.

Date number 4 Colin from Epsom the would be astro physicist.

 I decided that I should give men who are less attractive a chance. I should aim for intelligence and kindness. Colin’s profile spoke of being shocked when his wife told him that she no longer loved him. He had hair and was an accountant. He was also doing a degree in astro physics. I could never imagine ever being able to do such a thing. He was obviously a bright man.  

 We met for a coffee at Brighton Marina as he knew he could park at the nearby Asda. He spoke affectionately about his two daughters and did not say anything rude about his ex-wife. He was a tad bland and his neck was a bit scrawny. He was a bit colourless and everything to be expected from an accountant who are stereotypically portrayed as dull and unexciting people, but there were no other obvious red flags.  We chatted and agreed to meet for a second date.  We decided we would go for a walk and a pub lunch in Rottingdean. We chatted freely on the walk. However, whilst we ate lunch I noticed that he did not hold his knife and fork properly. He tended to talk whilst eating and food was expelled from his mouth. I found myself moving slightly back from him as I didn’t want his tuna melt landing on my white shirt. His Adam’s apple seemed to be very prominent in his scrawny neck. I realised that I found his neck resembled that of an Ostrich and I could not get that image out of my head. After lunch he walked me to my bus stop and for a second I thought he might want a kiss. I thrust a hand out and he realised that a handshake meant that a kiss was not going to happen.

 I emailed him after the date to say that I did not feel that we would be in a romantic relationship but I would be happy to be a friend.

He replied that he was only looking for romance and he was disappointed by my reply. I should have given him feedback about his table manners but felt his mother should have done that many years ago and possibly his wife too. There is only so much feedback that people can cope with after all.

 Sue wondered what Rhona and Alan would make of her diary. Would they disapprove of the term ‘Fuck boy’? She felt her 4 dates were representative of what was out there for women in their 60’s. She had realised that just because you had reached 60 and had a lot of life experience there was no guarantee that just because you were older you were actually wiser. She knew that entering a relationship with anyone involved a degree of risk taking. She liked to think that she was worldly wise but you didn’t know if you could trust someone until you trusted them. She would persevere. She had learnt that like most people she was a little susceptible to flattery. She firmly believed that she was not going to fall victim to a scammer.