I invited a man over for a romantic meal, and at precisely 8 p.m., I heard a knock on the door, so I opened it. and froze when I saw it.
When I resumed paying attention to males, my friends felt I was insane. My husband left me when I was 54. All I wanted was to experience love and passion once more.
At that point, a new man entered my life. We lived next door and occasionally ran into each other in the park. We spoke frequently and eventually became closer.
He asked me out on a date one day. I made the decision to hold it at my house. For the two of us, I made everything exquisitely and romantically, including food, candles, and music.
There was a knock on the door at precisely 8 p.m. I proceeded to open it. and froze upon seeing it.
My new man showed up at the door without a gift, flowers, or any other indication of attention.
“Are you for real?” I asked, hardly believing what I was seeing.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Where is the focus and where are the flowers?”
He grinned:
“What flowers? I’m too old to be handing out “flowers.”
I let out a sigh and realized abruptly:
Additionally, I’m not a young girl who would choose males like you. I don’t need someone at my age who is incapable of seeing a woman’s value in trivial matters. I made everything romantic, I tried. You should forget about me and go.
The dinner was still unfinished, the door shut, and the candles continued to burn.
I told my buddies everything the following day. Some suggested that I should not accept crumbs and that I had done the right thing. Others said that I had lost my final opportunity and that you have to cling to someone at your age.
And I ponder: if the alternative is betraying ourselves, do we really need to fear being alone?
