Country Friends and Dating

 Senior Moments

Lying on the sofa in my pjyamas, under a duvet, at ten in the morning, watching the conveyor belt of sad people that is the Jeremy Kyle show, I knew my life had come to an end.

It was my fiftieth birthday.

The sun was shining and the little birds singing in the trees, but all I could think of was my wrinkles, my saggy bits, my cellulite and my slow slide into mental decrepitude from here on in.

Reaching thirty and then forty had been bad enough. This was ten times worse. I no longer fitted in to the 40-49 ticky box bracket on questionnaires. In womens' magazines I would have to read the articles that discussed 'your mature skin', 'could you be menopausal?' and 'coping when your husband finds a younger woman'.

The phone rang and it was Julie, a long standing friend, telling me to get ready as she was taking me for a birthday lunch. She hit the big 50 last year and on her birthday made the decision to be 46 forever. At the time I thought that was a bit sad, since she should embrace her age and love it, but having just got there myself, I could see her point entirely.

'You can't hide under the duvet forever,' she said. 'There's still a world out there, you know.'

Oh yes, I thought grumpily, picking at the duvet cover and wondering if it was too early to have a dry sherry, there's a world out there. A world designed for YOUNG people, not old hasbeens like me. A world where X Factor has a special section for wrinklies, a world where if you enter a fun run you're in the veterans category, a world where you're categorised as an old mother and make news headlines if you have the cheek to want to reproduce at such advanced years.

Only B&Q would have me now. They seem to like employing us oldies. Good on em.

Senior moments? A life full of them stretched ahead of me, into a deep red sunset.

The telephone rang again. I nearly didn't answer it, as I couldn't stand the thought of another person wishing me happy birthday, when it really wasn't at all, and I didn't want to upset them by being a total snappy bitch. Snappy birthday.

It was a man.

'Hi, Jane, I hope you don't mind me ringing, it's just that I got your number from Julie and she suggested I give you a ring.'

God, he's so cheerful. 'Oh yes?'

'It's John, I work with Julie. I - er - I wondered if you fancied meeting for a drink sometime.'

John? Sexy John, aged 39? Hunky John with the long lean legs and the motorbike? Sweet handsome John with deep brown eyes? Younger  guy John?

'It's my birthday today,' I said, lamely.

'I know,' he said. 'I've got a surprise for you.'

I threw off the duvet and ran up the stairs. Suddenly, fifty didn't matter a damn.

Got a true or fictional story for Country Friends Newsletter? We would be glad to publish it!

 Why do my dates go wrong? 

This time it’s it. This is the one.  Finally, I’ve met the person who will make me feel I’ve won the lottery. Twice.  We’ve talked on the phone for hours; I’ve told a few of my secrets and they’ve told a few of theirs.  Ex’s have been wheeled out and wheeled back in again, kids discussed, hobbies laid out like a great long carpet.

Tonight’s the special night we’ve both been looking forward to.  Wine, steak, gentle piano music and who knows what after that. 

Yes, you guessed it, it’s the Second Date.

So why is it such a big let down, half an hour into our meal?  After all, there’s nothing obviously wrong with me and nothing too obviously wrong with my partner.  It’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on.

After a while it does become a little more apparent, because I’m slowly realising I’m having to work really hard to keep the conversation going.

Oh my god, it hits me like a lorry.  My companion is bored.

I’m so depressed it’s happened all over again.

Why do so many of my dates work out like this, with the big build-up and then the terrible drop into rejection?  Why does it always have to happen to me?

There could of course be a variety of reasons, including halitosis, terrible eating habits, that twitch again...but I’ve cancelled all the possibles out through research amongst trusted friends.

Actually it was one of these friends that let me into the secret of making dating work, and for that I will be forever grateful.

I’ve quite simply been too available.  Nothing’s been a secret, no question out of bounds - in fact I’ve been a thoroughly decent, honest and open new chum whenever I’ve first met someone.

Apparently I’ve been a total plonker in thinking that people like open and reliable. They just don’t!  They want fun, exciting and a few things hidden so they have the challenge of discovering it for themselves (and I’m not just talking midriffs).

Of course, if you’re the type of thoroughly decent person who doesn’t like playing games, this will fill you with horror.  But before you go off the deep end, I’m not suggesting behaving like some sort of psycho...rather, playing a slightly cooler you that leaves a bit more to the imagination. 

Try it like I did and you are guaranteed they will call you first rather than you sitting by the phone trying to decide when best to make that move. Because all of a sudden you have morphed from Norman or Norma Nice into Charlie Challenge.

There’s nothing wrong with a bit of flirting, now is there?  The less available you are and the more fulfilling your life, the more your dates will see you as a great person to know and someone who will enrich their own life, rather than a potential drag.

So, if you aren’t around on  Tuesday because it’s tea with Mother, or you can’t do a Thursday because it’s forty-lengths-in-the-pool night, for goodness sake don’t go rearranging any of it to make yourself free for your date.  Believe me, you will get far more respect if you have a life and anyway, they’ll think you’re great for not forgetting your ma.

Got dating dilemmas you need to share or dating advice for members? Send 'em in!