31. The Widower
THIRTY-ONE
The Widower
Thursday, 14 November, 7.30am
Date with a barrister tonight. Hope he doesn’t turn out to be a devious married arse like the last lawyer. Gosh, that was back in May. It seems like a thousand years ago when I was still eager about the dating challenge, writing about everything in great detail, and analysing every date. Now I’m jaded and can’t be bothered. I’m going on dates purely because I don’t want my project to fail. If Ace gets it together with that Jacquie woman, I’ll be the only singleton again. I must stay positive. Tonight could be the night.
4.30pm
On the way to meet Izzy before my date. She said it was urgent and will tell me when I see her. Very mysterious.
11.30pm
Izzy told me she’d gone to a singles party the night before and surprise, surprise, Jude was there. He didn’t notice her of course. Too busy working the room until he hit the jackpot and met a woman who was interested in him. Things got quite steamy between them, and after a while, they left together.
‘I’m not proud of what I did,’ Izzy said, ‘but I wanted him to get his comeuppance. For deceiving then ghosting me, cheating on your friend and being so awful to you.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I followed them. Out of the bar, on the tube and to her house. And I took photos. I probably wasn’t discreet, but they were all over each other and didn’t notice. Am I a terrible person?’
‘No, you’re not. He deserves everything he gets.’
She showed me the photos and they were indeed incriminating. I have a dilemma again. Do I tell Leila? I remembered what happened last time but is she ready to hear the truth now? We pondered my predicament, trying to anticipate what Jude might do. I can imagine him saying it was just a colleague and she’d come onto him, or he was seeing her home because she was drunk, and she kissed him. Anything to make himself the innocent party. But the pictures were clear. You could see it was him kissing a woman as they went into her house. Surely, even Jude couldn’t wriggle out of that. I had the evidence, and I didn’t need to go sleuthing with Ace and Winnie in matching detective outfits. I would decide what to do in the morning.
But I still had my date, though I didn’t feel like it by then. He was waiting for me at the bar when I arrived. I thought he must have come straight from work as he wore a black suit and white shirt and a sad expression. To liven things up, I told him about some of my funnier recent dates but couldn’t get through to him.
‘So, what’s your relationship background? Have you ever been married?’ I asked.
‘I’m a widower,’ he said, and his mouth drooped at the corners even more.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ I paused, then changed the subject. ‘Did you come straight from court?’ I asked, pointing at his suit.
‘No, I didn’t go to court today. I was at a funeral.’
‘I’m sorry, was it someone close?’
‘Yes, my wife,’ he said, and started weeping.
‘I’m sorry. It was your wife’s funeral today?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re out on a date?’ WTF? What kind of psycho goes on a date after his wife’s funeral? I started getting my things to leave and was thinking I could throw my red wine over him.
‘No, wait. Don’t go. We were separated. You see, she left me for another man a year ago.’ I sat down again. ‘I was upset at first but then I was angry and hated her for it. Then she … she was killed in a car accident. I thought I could finally move on…’ He was trying to choke back the tears. ‘I thought today was going to be the first day of being free of her, but now … I think I still love her,’ he sobbed.
What the double fuck? So he’d asked me out to make himself feel better and he’s telling me he’s still in love with his dead wife who left him for another man?
I had no energy to be angry and I just wanted to come home, but by then he was crying so much I felt sorry for him and didn’t have the heart to leave. I bought him a drink, gave him my tissues, and consoled him for twenty minutes until he’d calmed down and I could make my exit. I’ve so had it with the dating challenge. I can’t take another knockback or more nastiness. Or any more nutters.
Saturday, 16 November, 10.30am
Got a text from The Widower.
Him: Thanks for looking after me the other night. I’m buying if you fancy meeting up next week.
Me:
Sunday, 17 November, 11.30pm
I think I’ll tell Leila. She’ll listen this time. She has her doubts about him anyway. The pictures will just confirm them. I know what I’d do in her shoes. I’d kick him out. I certainly wouldn’t want to hold onto a cheater. But Leila’s different. She’s gone from one relationship to another ever since school. I love her but I’m glad I don’t need a man to make me feel complete. In fact, I don’t know if I need or want a man ever.
Monday, 18 November, 11.30pm
Went to Argentinian Tango with Izzy. We’d had a few dances when a guy in his late seventies asked for my hand. We started to dance cheek to cheek, and he was a good leader, so I was enjoying it. After a while I could tell he was exhausted as his breathing got heavier. Next thing, there was a gulp and a clack, and something fell between us. We stopped and stared at his dentures on the floor.
‘I’ll go and wash these,’ he said as he picked up his teeth. I went back to Izzy, who pointed to my shoulder where there was a damp patch on my shirt. Dribble? Flying spittle? He returned five minutes later and, flashing his newly rinsed teeth, asked me to dance again. I declined, but the perky elderly woman with the unnaturally even teeth next to me was delighted to oblige.
Wednesday, 20 November, 5.30pm
I’m nervous. I asked Leila to come over. She probably thinks I want to talk about my love life but I’m going to show her the photos.
11.30pm
She was upset but surprisingly calm. I think she’d suspected as much for a while, so it wasn’t a shock. She’s staying with me tonight. She told Jude she’d had too much to drink and couldn’t drive, so as not to raise his suspicions. It’s awful for her, but she knows what she must do.
Thursday, 21 November, 6.30pm
Leila phoned. She’s done the deed. She went home this morning, cleared their joint bank account, and took her investment money out of his business account. Thank God I told her when I did, or that money would have disappeared into his startup contracts tomorrow. She packed a bag for him and told him to get out when he got home. He tried to play the innocent party, but it didn’t work this time. I’m sad for her but happy he’s out of our lives.
Friday, 22 November, 11.30pm
Some happy news at last. Project Toilet was completed this week, and I went to meet V and K today. They’re delighted with the design but not as much as their four-year-old who’s been flushing the illusion cistern many, many times a day.
Sunday, 24 November, 11.30pm
Went to Grace’s doggie dating test event. Not sure how she did it, but there were about thirty middle-aged single people all cooing over each other’s dogs on Parliament Hill and having a fabulous time. Grace brought Terry and she looked like she was enjoying herself, even making friends with one dog lover. I’m proud of her for being so resilient. I borrowed Dexter, who did what he does best by trying to hump other dogs and human legs with equal vigour. I had to leave early before he started a fight. Ace and Winnie were a big hit of course.
‘Oh my gosh, you’re a musician. How wonderful. And your dog is so cute. Like her owner,’ gushed one woman, who was the twin of her grey Afghan hound.
I nudged Dexter towards the woman, and she walked away in disgust as I laughed on the inside. Much as I want Grace’s business to succeed, I was relieved when Ace said he was only there to support Grace, so I hope he didn’t exchange numbers with anyone after I left. Snarl.
Wednesday, 27 November, 11.30pm
Tried a circuit training class today so I could wear my lovely new floral workout outfit. I was standing tall and feeling sexy in my skin. While we were waiting to go in, I noticed Mr Fit checking me out.
‘I haven’t seen you here before,’ he said with a gorgeous smile.
‘No, it’s my first time. You look like you’re a regular though.’ I nodded at his biceps.
‘I am, but you must work out, yeah? You look pretty fit in that outfit,’ he said as he scanned my body.
I giggled and blushed. The teenager in me is never too far from the surface. I went into the class thinking I must bump into him on the way out. The class was hell. Not wanting to be defeated, I kept up with the running, weightlifting, crunching, rowing, planking, and on and on. By the end of it, my top was completely soaked, hair was frizzed out, and I was walking with the stoop of an eighty-year-old. The cute guy walked past with a look of disbelief at my transformation. I looked at him and thought, I’m just too tired.
Friday, 29 November, 11.30pm
Still aching today.
Saturday, 30 November, 1.30pm
Leila and Ace were already there when I arrived for brunch. She was surprisingly upbeat even though Jude had gone back yesterday to pick up some stuff and been nasty about her withdrawing her money out of his business. Then she told us that she’d gone to a top firm of lawyers about her divorce yesterday and ended up agreeing to a date with one of the partners!
‘I can’t believe it, Leila. How do you do it? How have you managed to arrange a date in your situation?’ I asked.
‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,’ Leila said unhelpfully.
What am I doing wrong? I could take a leaf out of that Jacqueline woman’s book and ingratiate myself on one of my neighbours. I could get a tight short dress, flaunt my boobs, and walk around the neighbourhood asking, ‘Nibbles anyone?’ I know I’m being mean about her but God, I hope there’s nothing going on between them. I can’t bear to ask Ace.
P.S. He was wearing a casual cashmere sweater and looking particularly wowy. I held my hands on my lap under the table to stop myself touching him. It was agony.