One day I visited a singles website out of idle curiosity. Scrolling through photos of all kinds of guys, I was astonished at the immense range of men on offer; old, young, fat, skinny, ugly, and some just plain bloody gorgeous.
I came across a very dishy guy; early thirties, smooth, toned torso with a ‘come hither’ smile. Not too many muscles either — as if he spent too much time admiring himself in the gym. Besides, men with perfectly moulded physiques intimidate me; I become uncomfortably aware of my own neglected and under-exercised body.
However, I still considered him to be way out of my league. I’m forty-ish, overweight and a single mother of three. I would have loved to get to know this guy better, but figured he wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. So, with a sigh of regret, I logged out and started on dinner in an attempt to forget him. If only it was that easy!
It wasn’t just his photo, the accompanying blurb intrigued me. He wrote of how he loved children, would love to have some of his own, loved sailing and dreamed of taking his future family yachting one day. I too had fantasised of sailing with a loving man, together with my children, seeing the world.
Impatiently, I shook myself free of daydreams. “Dream on, girl,” I told myself, “Bet he wouldn’t love three instant children!”
Even a week or so later, I still couldn’t get this guy out of my mind. For a laugh, I thought I’d get in contact, just to prove to myself he was not worth losing sleep over. I e-mailed a short note attached to a scanned photo of an attractive woman from a magazine who reminded me of myself ten years ago.
If he wanted to meet in person, I’d just fob him off with some excuse, pretend I was going away to America, whatever. I was highly skilled at making up excuses..
He emailed back and we began to correspond via e-mail. Soon we were e-mailing daily and sharing our souls and lives with each other. Luckily, he didn’t ever suggest meeting face-to-face.
After a time, it was clear to me that our relationship was special and that it was inevitable that he would want to meet with me in person. I knew I had to tell him the truth. I had to tell him I wasn’t the woman in the photo, that I was actually ten years older and fatter, with considerably more wrinkles.
With shaking hands, I poured myself a glass of red wine and dialled his number. I explained that the photo of me was not really me.
He listened in silence, there was a long pause, then he admitted that the photo of him was not really of him either. A stunned silence, then we both burst out laughing. You see, by then, it was no longer important to either of us how the other looked. We were in love with each other’s souls, not with each other’s bodies.
We did eventually meet and are now planning our first round-the-world sailing trip with the children.
Picture posed by model.
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