The chubby, balding civil servant in his early 50s who contacted me would not normally be someone I’d meet up with, but he messaged me in such a witty and eloquent way that I agreed to meet him for tea.
His company amused me, so when he later invited me to his house so he could cook me dinner, I accepted.
I’ve crossed paths with other older men, too, in the past year or so: some I merely corresponded with; some I met in person.
I’ve discovered how world-weary and bitter they can be, desperate to offload their emotional baggage on any female who will listen.
Men under 30 neither know nor care about such ‘rules’. But I didn’t — not least because he reminded me so much of an ex-partner that it made me uneasy.
Used to the notion of equality between the sexes, they are more spontaneous and natural. The end of our dates became increasingly awkward, with me trying to slip away politely without any smooching.
So why on earth should I settle for an out-of-condition old codger like him just because society deems it appropriate for me?