Morning in Melbourne

by Nicole Taylor

Diana laughed at Louise’s raised eyebrows and silent questioning of the sense of her last statement, and responded with “Well, that’s the theory anyway.”

  Diana’s daughter looked up. “This room is the warmest,” she said with a beautific smile.

  Her older brother looked up and added “And this room has the best wi-fi connection.”

  Diana’s smiled at Louise and shrugged. “Come down to the kitchen,” she said, and led the way down the long hall, leaving her kids to enjoy her new lounge room without her.

  Louise decided to take the plunge and ask her the question she had been dying to ask.

  “So, Diana – what’s the long term plan with your guy?” Diana had not mentioned his name and Louise didn’t want to ask anything that would allow him to be identified. Not that she expected to know who he was if she did learn his name; but just because it was clear that discretion had been the survival rule in this relationship.

  Diana smiled at Louise. This was a sensitive subject, and a situation as long standing as this one required secrecy and discretion. Louise was flattered that Diana had divulged such personal information. She must have felt safe to do so and Louise was glad of that, because Diana was becoming a close friend, and she may have some confidences of her own to share one day.

  Making new friends in your mid-life was not easy, and as a newly single woman in a new city, it was an important aspect of Louise’s life.

  “Well,” Diana smiled, clearly happy to say anything about her love, and positive about the future, “the long term plan is that his kids grow up and leave home and he gets a divorce, gives her the house and comes and lives with me.”

  “By which time your own kids will have grown up and moved out, too,” added Louise.

  “That’s the plan,” Diana was still smiling.

  “What about her illness?” Louise asked.

  “What?”

  “The wife. What will he do when she gets sick?”

  “She isn’t sick.” Diana frowned, not understanding.

  “Probably not yet, but she will be.” Louise nodded her response.

  “What do you mean? Do you know her?”

  “I know women,” answered Louise. “If you have been having an affair with this woman’s husband for more than a decade, I’d bet she knows by now. But he hasn’t left her.”

  Diana laughed softly. “He says they are happier because of me. Apparently she went off sex after the fourth child.”

  “Fancy that,” laughed Louise.

  “Yeah, I know,” agreed Diana. “If anything would put you off, four kids in 6 years would do it. We met during that period–“

  “I guessed.”

  “Yes, anyway, she’s never wondered why he doesn’t initiate sex with her, and is quite happy with things that way.”

  “So why do you think she will accept a divorce? She’s clearly accepted the status quo, whether she admits that she knows he is unfaithful to her. She must prefer being marred because she could have confronted him and demanded that he be faithful or get a divorce.”

  “I don’t think she knows about me though.”

  Louise shrugged. “Let’s say she does know – or at least suspects – that there is another woman on the scene who is sleeping with her husband so that she doesn’t have to; and who has been around for a decade or more without causing any real concerns. This married woman has never worked. What will she do when the kids leave home and her husband starts to make “We will be happier living separately” noises?”

  Diana shrugged. “What can she do?”

  “Oh, Diana – it is so obvious! She has had a successful life of dependency – she will become mysteriously ill! Her illness will be unidentifiable – it will be headaches and back pain and dizziness. She won’t be able to live alone, darling! Think about it! This woman has lived on her wits for 30 years! Why do you think that you, who has been busy with the practical business of raising a family single-handedly and maintaining an old house on your own and getting a degree and building a career, that you would be any match for a woman who spends every waking moment gathering about her comforts earned for her by her husband? She will be 55 years old! She certainly won’t just accept that it is your turn now. And she knows her husband. She has kept him this long because-“

  “- Because he doesn’t want to be the bad-guy in front of the kids.” Diana blinked as she spoke, as though she could see the situation Louise was describing.

  “Exactly!” said Louise.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Diana admitted.

  “I’ll bet he has,” suggested Louise.

  Chapter 8 – Profiles

  “What about him?” Katherine and Louise sat at the kitchen bench in front of Lou’s laptop. Katherine was showing Louise how to surf the internet dating site efficiently. She had quickly logged on and was now setting the parameters for Louise’s search for true love.

  Katherine turned to Louise. “We will have to take some nice photos of you, to set up a profile.”

  “Hang on,” said Lou. “Can’t I look at the men first?” She wriggled forward on her stool to examine the laptop screen which Katherine had been dominating as she found the site.

  Katherine pushed the laptop closer to Louise. “Go ahead,” she said. She then slid off her stool and refilled both their glasses from the bottle of Yellow sparkling wine. Louise peered onto the screen.

  “600 men?” she ejaculated. “How can I possibly search through the profiles of 600 men?”

  Katherine reinstated herself beside Lou. “You have to refine your search. What do you want?” Louise blinked and looked at her as though she had never thought about it before. Katherine sighed.

  “You must have some idea of the kind of man you would like to meet,” she insisted. “Like, what age? Where should he live? What sort of job should he have?”

  “Really?” Louise smiled. “I can just choose everything?”

  Katherine snorted a laugh. “Asking ain’t getting, honey child! But let me give you a few tips.” Louise knew that prior to meeting Shane, Katherine had dated a couple of men from this site and had some relevant experience, so she sat up and took notice. Katherine continued. “Remember the ‘add 5 yrs and deduct 2 inches’ rule. Also, don’t email back and forth for more than a day before you speak to them on the phone. Just hearing their voice gives you so much information.”

  “But don’t they already tell you about their education?” Louise was looking at the site.

  “Some people think ‘post graduate’ means they got their results in the mail.”

  Louise giggled at Katherine’s little joke. But Katherine wasn’t finished. “Anyway, I don’t mean that. Some guys are just a big drag, and you can hear it in their voice. You know, gloomy and beaten sounding. Or full of themselves, and speaking over the top of you. And some men have really old photos, but you can hear their age in their voice.”

  It was Louise’s turn to make a joke. “Like, if they, like, say ‘like’ a lot, they are, like, too young?”

  Katherine smiled. “Exactly!” she agreed.

  By the end of the evening, Katherine had helped set Louise up with her own account, a profile photo and a written introduction about herself. And on the strength of this, Louise had sent notices to a few men to let them know she thought they were interesting. “Now you just wait and see what happens,” Katherine advised her.

  “Alright then,” said Louise.

  What surprised Lou most of all was that nothing much had changed. On the dating scene, that is. In every other sphere of her life everything had changed, but dating was still a pit of disappointment just waiting to drag you down further than you ever imagined it could.

  When she was married, she and her married girlfriends would fantasise about past boyfriends; how young and desirable they, the girls, had been; how they had had their pick of young Romeos and wannabe lovers. But being thrown back into the cesspool of single-dom quickly exposed these memories as the frauds they were. As a nubile 19 year o
ld, Lou remembered only ever being leered at by older, unattractive men of doubtful virility while the Bondi Vet specimens wafted past, unaware of her existence. She recalled this now because of the sameness of her current experience, and realised that she was now herself less desirable but more discerning: a most unfortunate combination.

  Today the only real difference was the complete no-show of the Bondi Vet specimen. Even in her mid 40’s, only older men showed any interest and, little blue pills notwithstanding, Lou had no desire to travel down that road.

  It turned out that internet dating was a peculiar world with its own language and mores. The men all apparently possessed a magic mirror. When they looked into this mirror, they saw not the Santa Clause-esque physique of a 60 year old man who’d spent 40 of those years drinking beer and standing in the sun. They saw the rippling muscles of Brad Pitt and described themselves as “a young 55”, shamelessly scraping 5 years right off the top and never even considering the fact that they should divulge their true age. Consequently, they sought Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Aniston as their appropriate other half, and only wanted to meet women 20 years younger than themselves.

  For it is an accepted thing that women like older men, isn’t it?

  But Lou didn’t like older men. Not romantically, that is. She didn’t like younger men either. She wanted a man her own age, who had some experience of the world she lived in; who could go from being a stranger - that most confronting of individuals – to becoming a familiar friend – in double-quick time. She didn’t want to date a guy of almost 70; to count out his pills; to wait half an hour for them to kick in; to make sure they wore off in the correct timeframe. And she wasn’t getting any younger.

  It was a hopeless enterprise, she realised at last. Sure, there were plenty of men available to date on the internet websites, but none of them attracted her. Not even one. At least when she was 19, everyone was single and you didn’t have to worry about whether they were in fact still married. And back then, she hadn’t had to factor in erectile dysfunction, child support payments, internet porn and HIV AIDS.

  It was different if your established husband, during your shared middle years, suffered from the normal reduction in virility which accompanies age. By that stage, you have built a life together and sex isn’t the glue in your relationship any more. There are hundreds of other things holding you together; things like your kids, and your parents, and your home, and your debts, and your memories, and your inter-reliance on, and access to, each other’s memory, and bank account, and car when your own fail you; and your address book with the names and addresses of all your friends, and your knowledge of each other’s likes and dislikes, and his scent when he is sleeping or has just had a shower. All those – familiar - things.

  When you lose those things that were your life, you start to fear the future because it doesn’t seem as friendly as the day before yesterday. It seems empty and pointless and frighteningly lonely. And it doesn’t matter whether your defunct marriage was a happy one or not; or if you left or were left. All that matters is that your “building a life” years are behind you, and the life you built is no more. And you have to go on into that future regardless. On and on.

  *

  “So why do you do it?” Julia and Louise were taking their constitutional through the leafy streets of their neighbourhood.

  It was a fair enough question, and one that Louise had asked herself. “Lots of reasons, I suppose,” she answered. “For one thing, there are times when I feel quite alone, and online dating is proof that I am far from that.” She paused for a minute, considering the question. “But the real reason, for me, is that it keeps being single ‘real’ for me.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Julia.

  “Well, by meeting men my age, for coffee, I can see that they are just as confused and normal and human and wrong about everything as I am!” Louise laughed at her description. “They aren’t sex-maniac ogres; they aren’t playing the field on the internet any more than men ever did that. People vilify the internet as though there was no infidelity in marriage before internet dating – yet people have been having illicit affairs since the ark! The men I meet on the internet are the same men I would meet at church or work if I went to either of those places.”

  “How disappointing!” It was Julia’s turn to laugh.

  “You said it,” agreed Louise glumly. “I am the Queen of the coffee date! So far I haven’t liked anyone enough to do more than meet them for coffee!

  And it had been fairly disappointing.

  The first man had been a blue-eyed boy who had described himself as a high-school teacher. In fact he had been the sailing trainer at a private school. They didn’t pay him much and he got to live on campus, fulfilling a security role. He hadn’t finished high school himself, so he enjoyed this position.

  The second man, a handsome, swarthy, athletic type, was married. When Louise admitted that this was a game-changer for her, he criticised her choice of clothing.

  “I can’t believe you would wear corduroy jeans to a coffee date,” he said.

  Louise was startled. Before she could stop herself, she said “But they are David Lawrence!” Then she left.

  The third man seemed very attractive and nice, but he’d immediately begun sending her sexy texts. “Please stop,” she replied, and he did.

  The next man was attractive and eloquent. He promised to call her, and he did – to tell her he wouldn’t be calling her. Louise didn’t ask him why not. She just thanked him for his call and hung up.

  Another man was a good 15 years older than his photo; so were the next 5 men. And the same number of possible starters gave inaccurate descriptions of their educational achievements.

  “It seems that all the men I want to date, who are successful, attractive and financially secure, don’t really go for women their own age who are short, brown haired, with three teenage kids,” Louise explained to Katherine. “They seem to prefer women in their 30’s with no kids, long legs, long, blonde hair and big white teeth. Who knew?”

  Chapter 9 – Birthday girl

  Louise’s birthday party had been organised for a Friday night. Her actual birthday was on Saturday, but Fridays were better for parties, she thought.

  For one thing, you were already up and dressed after a day at work, so less likely to be at home, relaxed, not feeling like dressing up and going out; for another, it was Friday and you were happy about that alone; and finally, it left two whole days to recover and have the full weekend experience – little enough time for most working single mothers to do all the things they had been unable to do while they had been at work all week.

  There were enough men coming now, since Louise had invited Mr Eye-Candy and Sir Beefcake from the Certificate 4 course at work, along with Barry, and John the builder. With Jack and Louie, that tipped the male-to-female ratio nicely in favour of the girls.

  “How many are you expecting?” Julia asked when she called to say she would be bringing a plate whether Lou wanted one or not. Louise wasn’t sure if this was a vote of no confidence in her ability to cater, or evidence of Julia’s homestead upbringing, where she had regularly cooked for a cattle station full of workmen. Whatever it was, the plate was sure to be bounteous.

  “About eleven, I think,” answered Lou.

  “Eleven!” Julia was surprised.

  “Is that too many?”

  “No, of course not. Eleven is great – a real party!”

  “That’s the plan,” Louise laughed.

  “So, who, exactly?’ Julia asked.

  “Diana, whom you’ve already met them; Katherine from work and two guys we know, also from work; Barry, another teacher; and John.”

  “Who is John?”

  “You know,” said Lou. “John is the builder who is overseeing the work on our townhouses.”

  Julia paused. “You invited the builder?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

  “Yes,” said Louise, a bit nervously now. “Should I not have?
We already have a contract – it won’t affect their work or the price, will it?”

  “No,” said Julia.

  “He’s not married, is he?” Louise was concerned now, wondering what possible objection Julia could have to their inclusion.

  “I don’t know – I don’t even know him,” she said. “Well, well, Lou – I didn’t know you liked a bit of rough trade!”

  “Julia! What an expression!”

  “Although I must agree with your taste. John is kinda cute, in a workman sort of way.”

  “Billy Ray Cyrus,” said Louise.

  “What?”

  “He looks like Billy Ray Cyrus.”

  Julia laughed and exclaimed “He does! Oh my God – that is so funny! Wait till Jack hears about this – you and Bob the Builder!”

  “Stop, Julia – you’ll put the mockers on it!”

  “Is that what you brazen hussies call it these days?”

  “Seven!” said Lou before hanging up. “Be here at seven!”

  *

  Camille and Peter were billeted to friends’ places for sleepovers on the big night, so, after dropping them off, Louise spent the afternoon preparing the house for the party. James was going out for a while but would return after midnight, which Louise thought was just as well. This would serve as a reminder to wind up the party in case anyone was still partying by that time.

  She put flowers in every corner of the lounge room; turned the lights off and the lamps on; pushed the dining table up against the wall under the framed mirror and plugged her party-mix ipod into the sound system.

  The first to arrive was John. He smelled of Aramis aftershave and Louise had to refrain from kissing him then and there. “Oh my God,” she thought to herself, “this is going to be harder than I thought. Much, much harder.” She looped her arm into his and accepted the bunch of camellias he handed her. His arms were hard. His neck was taught. His chest was broad. His –

  “Louise!” Newly arrived, Judith brought her back to her senses. She looped Lou’s other arm and smiled at John. “Hi John – nice to see you! Let me just borrow the hostess for a moment – I’ve baked all these pastries and need to know where to put them.” And with that she bustled Louise off into the kitchen.