So, this person had been pursuing me for some time – I knew it was hopeless though - nothing in his profile had given me any cause to salivate - and I hadn’t given him any encouragement whatsoever. He was five years older, so within my age range, and sounded as if he wasn’t strapped for cash, possibly even a little plummy. Polite refusals hadn't worked - he’d got a bee in his bonnet (me) and wasn't going to give in. Finally, essentially to convince him, I agreed to a phone call.
Him: You sound quite intelligent from your profile.
Me: Thank you.
Him: Do you like cooking?
Me: No, my profile quite clearly states I do not like cooking. I dreamt up healthy, nourishing meals -- always from scratch -- for 25 years on a daily basis, and it no longer gives me any thrills. On the other hand, I enjoy eating. And I enjoy feeding.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: It means I enjoy people coming to my house to eat. I look in the cupboards and fridge, see what’s available, throw things together, put whatever emerges down in front of them and tell them to tuck in. I don’t like following recipes.
Him: Hmm. Well, maybe that won’t be a problem because I can cook. But, you do cook, don’t you?
Me: Yes, I do. But I would always rather be the sous chef these days.
Him: And you seem to have many interests, so presumably you can hold your own in most situations.
Me: On the whole, I don’t have many problems.
Him: Hmm. Yes, I suspect you are more intelligent than me.
Me: I really don’t know and can’t say.
Him: Yes, I think you are. Pauses as if in thought. I think you’d probably make a very good hostess. You’d be able to maintain conversations. And talk to people on any topic, I should think.
Eh? Poor deluded man – how the hell did he work that out? The older I get, I’ve discovered, the less I know about anything whatsoever. Huge wads of stuff completely passed me by while I was being a mother of young children; I expect there was the odd war or something. Did anything happen in the early 90s that didn't involve poo or Lego? Must google! On the plus side, I can quote Cat in the Hat verbatim - not sure that would be of any use to anyone these days, particularly in a dinner party setting.
But – hey there! Wait a minute!
A very good hostess?
That nearly passed me by. A very good hostess?
So, the person he is looking for must be a very good hostess. For his dinner parties. For his friends, colleagues, acquaintances – whoever. Don your pinny and make sure everybody’s glass is full.
FFFs! This is not in my master plan! Do I want that to be on my Bucket List? And on my death bed, seconds away from the final croak, surrounded by my super family, friends and followers, do I want to look back and leave them with nothing but this to ponder for the rest of their lives, ‘Oh yes, my dears, je ne regrette rien. I was, after all, a very good hostess.’
I think not!
Is it an age thing I wonder? I later asked a very lovely friend who's forty and also single what his requirements were as far as a relationship was now concerned. It took him precisely two seconds to reply. "Fun," he said. From being a pleasant looking kind of guy he miraculously transformed himself into the most gorgeous male I'd ever laid eyes on.
Which makes me wonder... I am looking at the wrong age group altogether?