Honey, I’m Home!
Yes, I’m back. I always say that I won’t be, that I’m going to do grown-up dating, get a sensible boyfriend and have a ‘proper relationship’. But really I should just sit down and have a cup of tea until the feeling passes…
Recently I wondered why it is that I even bother to say that I won’t be back. I’ve become far less discreet about the fact that I like dating younger men and I think that the taboos are breaking down. I’ve realized that not everyone is disapproving. I’m not a 100% sure on what it is they are feeling, but I’m beginning to suspect it’s jealousy. Maybe there’s a whole ‘smug married’s’ backlash going on that no-one told me about?
Of course if I tell people that I date toyboys, then they do sometimes pretend to be disapproving, but really, what’s the problem? It’s the perfect relationship. The guidelines are fairly clear, the expectations are within limits and the communication is honest (because there’s no reason for it not to be) and no-one gets hurt. Even if things have run their course, it’s civilized. Most of all, it’s fun!
I went to a client’s house the other day to discuss their re-model. It was the first time I’d met her and we chatted for a few minutes before her husband arrived. I gave her a bit of background on myself, that I’m single, have a child… before I could go further she interrupted and said “I’m so jealous of your lifestyle!” What!? Where was the patronisingly studied sad look accompanied by “Oh, you poor thing” that would have been the stock response just a few short years ago? I hadn’t even mentioned that I like to date deliciously handsome young men but suspect that if I had, she’d have reached a state of envy where even a new kitchen, an en-suite *and* dressing room wasn’t going to console her…
So, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t really be trying to do grown-up dating. To be frank, between dropping Jemima off to gymnastics or piano, ensuring she has the right tights for ballet, trying to run a house, a business and maybe get to the gym once in a while, when would I ever find time to pander to the mores of some middle aged man who thinks it’s my job to iron his shirts because he goes out and does a 9 to 5? I probably own an iron, but to be honest, I couldn’t tell you where it is. Whereas my poor client has to do all the above, plus deal with her workaholic husband who probably doesn’t pay her enough attention but who thinks that refurbishing the whole house will make her happy. I wonder if he’ll notice that she’s asked for her own bedroom as part of the re-fit? (Do you think I should be charging extra for relationship counselling?)
Then, in the same week as pondering all this stuff, I had a chat with Nick the Greek. I haven’t seen him for ages and knew that he was doing the ‘serious dating’ thing. I’ve known for quite a while that it’s time for him to settle down. We’ve discussed it, even joked about it. In the past I’d never been concerned that he disappears for a while as he always comes back. But it was a sad day as I realised he’d finally got with the plan and this time it’s for real.
I’m pleased for him but I was wistful as I enjoyed my Sunday breakfast in bed and realized as I ate my Greek yyogurt that I wouldn’t be seeing my Greek honey again. So, is it the end of an era? Or a time for a new beginning? I think the latter.
And where better to start than TBW…?
By Ava Word
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