The Middle-Aged Virgin: A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel: Newly Single And Seeking Spine-Tingles...

by Olivia Spring

  ‘Yes,’ I said, interjecting. ‘Maybe, but he could have handled it better!’

  ‘Agreed,’ she added. ‘But I really don’t think you’ve considered it fully. Okay, think of it as an employer, from a business perspective. You need one of your key workers to come in at the last minute. How well would it go down if they turned around and said, “Sorry, I can’t, Sophia. I’ve got to go and fuck some girl I’ve only known for a couple of weeks”? It ain’t gonna happen, sugar. Then think of it from Lorenzo’s position. No man, especially one that hot, who probably has pussy on tap, is going to risk his job just for some sweet British apple pie.’

  Hmm. As much as I hated to admit it, whilst I didn’t agree with everything, she’d made some valid arguments.

  ‘Okay, Monique, point taken,’ I replied, ‘but I still don’t see why I have to worry about his feelings when he didn’t give a shit about mine.’

  ‘Honey, you don’t,’ Monique said before taking a sip of her cocktail. ‘You don’t have to do a damn thing. Hell, you can take your phone out right now, delete his number and never speak to him again. It’s your call. But I can tell by the way you’re getting all worked up that you like this guy. So if you do, consider keeping your options open with him in case you decide to give him a second chance, which, even if you want to, won’t be possible if you make him feel like shit and act like you don’t need him.’

  I mulled her comments over in my mind once again. My objective hadn’t changed, so maybe I could give him the opportunity to redeem himself?

  ‘Okay, Monique. The benefit of the doubt. I guess that’s possible,’ I said. ‘I was thinking—there’s a big food festival called Savour London taking place in a few weeks. Maybe I could invite him over here to come with me to that?’ She leaned in a little. ‘When I was Facebook stalking Lorenzo, I saw that he’d done a bit of travelling and had worked in Singapore and LA in different restaurants, so clearly he likes to get international experience. That’s why I thought if he came, maybe he could do some networking. What do you think?’

  ‘Honey, it’s worth a try,’ she said calmly. ‘What have you got to lose? Invite him, and if he’s up for it, then great. If he says he’s working, which based on what you’ve told me seems pretty likely, but suggests an alternative option, pursue it. If he doesn’t, then leave it.’

  ‘Yes, agreed. I already think I’m being generous, but I’ll give him one more shot. Only because I genuinely felt a connection. But maybe it was just in my head. It’d be a whole lot easier if I just knew what he was thinking. Is he interested, or does he just consider it a one-night thing? I’ll just be direct and ask him if he’s into me or not.’

  ‘Oh God, honey. This isn’t how it works. Don’t ask him if he likes you—it isn’t the tenth grade!’

  ‘Why the hell not? I’ll see how I feel later, but I wasn’t into games and this “women should do this and say that” bullshit and all the dating rules I’m supposed to follow. If you don’t know something, the easiest way to find out is to ask, right? What’s the point in guessing? Just ask the question, get the answer and save wasting any more time.’

  ‘Look. It’s up to you, Sophia, and I hate to break it to you, but when it comes to men, just because you ask a question doesn’t mean you’ll actually get a straight answer. I say keep it simple. He seems like he has a lot on his plate, as do you, so you don’t have time for overthinking. Invite him to the event and see what happens.’

  Well, Monique had certainly given me some food for thought. One thing was for sure—if I was going to message him again, this time, I wasn’t going to rush into it. I’d put thoughts of him to one side, focus on my work and message him when I was good and ready.

  It was now Saturday afternoon, and so it had been five days since I’d sent the ‘are you okay?’ message. I was meeting Bella in a few hours for dinner and wasn’t working today, so it was a good enough time to message Lorenzo.

  I drafted a message. Read over it once, and then again. It was a little gushy for my liking, but I was trying to take on board the fact that Monique said I’d probably damaged his ego. If I was honest, I still felt like he should be the one apologising to me, but I bit the bullet and sucked up a little and followed his multiple-message approach:

  Me

  Hey, Lorenzo, just thinking I messaged back to ask if you were okay but didn’t get to reply to your other messages before I got on the plane. Whilst I had a good time in Italy, it would have been better if I’d seen you too.

  Me

  Sorry to hear you’re going through a difficult time. Wish I could be there to give you lots of hugs and long kisses and make you feel better.

  Me

  You sound like you’ve been working really hard and need a break. Would you like to see me again? I felt like we had a connection. Do you feel the same, or is it just my imagination?

  Me

  There’s a big food festival soon with lots of top chefs, so it might be good for you to network/see what opportunities there are to work at some of London’s best restaurants—I’m sure they’re always looking for talented people like you. I’ll send you some links. Let me know if you’d like to come…

  I fired off some links to the website, which showed the different chefs and restaurants who would be at the festival, dates, etc.

  I knew Monique had said not to ask if he wanted to see me again, but I needed to know one way or the other. All this second-guessing was driving me mental.

  At least I had a packed week ahead at work, and then Roxy had suggested that rather than her coming along tonight, I could come and stay over at her house next weekend. I was definitely up for that. Too much time alone for me lately equalled overthinking…

  Bella hadn’t got a chance to read my WhatsApp messages properly as reception was poor at the place she was staying at in Cornwall and the Wi-Fi was rubbish too, so we’d agreed to discuss everything tonight.

  We went to Berner’s Tavern, another favourite spot of ours. Despite being very glamorous, with its grand stately home-esque dining room, giant chandeliers, intricate plasterwork, zillions of gilt-framed photos and paintings of varying sizes adorning the grand and towering walls, it wasn’t at all poncy and had friendly staff as well as a down-to-earth yet chic feel. We liked it here.

  By the time we’d ordered our mains, I’d brought her up to date on everything, including Monique’s controversial take on the situation and my recent message (which I’d sent four and a half hours ago and was yet to receive a reply…).

  ‘I see what Monique’s saying,’ she said, taking a sip of her prosecco, ‘but like I said in my WhatsApp message, at the end of the day, Soph, I just think some people are there to serve a purpose. And Lorenzo was there to show you that you are desirable and to remind you what you’ve been missing. So now he’s done that, personally I think you should move on.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I said, pondering the two conflicting pieces of advice I’d received about Lorenzo this week. ‘But I have an objective. And when I set my mind to something, I don’t like to stop until I achieve that goal.’

  ‘I know you wanted to use that weekend to build on your experience, but from what you’ve told me, his life seems complicated. He works a lot, which I know you can understand, but he also doesn’t seem entirely reliable, so maybe draw a line under him, and if you really want to achieve your ‘objective’, as you call it, and get some action, look closer to home. Join some dating sites like Roxy suggested. You don’t have to get on a plane and travel thousands of miles to do that.’

  I took a moment to consider her suggestion. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Maybe it’s time to bite the bullet and get on those apps, as I’m definitely ready to meet someone. Tomorrow I’ll have a lazy day in bed and sign myself up. No point hanging around. Need to be proactive. I feel so much better now, thank you. Have you ever thought about being a professional agony aunt or a counsellor? You’d be so good at it!’

  ‘Ah, stop it!’ laughed Bella. ‘What with looking after Paul and counse
lling you, I barely have time to scratch my head!’

  ‘Sorry! I know I’ve been a bit of a neurotic basket case lately. These men can really fuck with your sanity. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, opening myself up for more of this by jumping into this online dating thing, but hey, gotta try! Brace yourself, Bella. This Lorenzo shit is probably going to be just the tip of the iceberg. Bet even you’re wishing I was back with Rich so you could have some peace and quiet again,’ I joked.

  ‘Nooooo, Soph!’ she insisted. ‘You’re better off being single than staying in an unhappy relationship. Honestly, I don’t mind. For years you’ve held everything together as you’re so brilliant at running your business, so I haven’t really needed to give you any advice, so it’s nice to be able to help,’ added Bella. ‘Plus, it’s great to have an adult conversation once in a while, and without sounding bad, because I know you’re the one going through it, your life is very entertaining right now. Like Roxy said, I’m saving a fortune on cinema tickets. It’s like the start of one big messy romcom,’ she said, letting out a wicked laugh.

  ‘Thanks, Bella. Nice to know you’re getting a kick out of my trials and tribulations!’

  ‘I know, sorry!’ she said, laughing again. ‘But even you’ve got to admit that as hard as it is sometimes, right now your life is waaay more interesting than it was six months ago.’

  ‘Yes. You could say that!’ I replied.

  After catching up on Bella’s news, I headed home and jumped straight in the shower. I should’ve messaged her straight away as she lived in Hampstead, North London whereas I was the complete opposite, in South London, so we always liked to let each other know we’d got home safely.

  I unlocked my phone. There was a message from Bella, and seven from Lorenzo?

  I quickly messaged Bella to let her know that I’d also got home safely, then clicked on to Lorenzo’s chat:

  Lorenzo

  Yes i am very busy

  Lorenzo

  For two more weeks

  Lorenzo

  You are so kind

  Lorenzo

  I will think about it

  Lorenzo

  Until then i am sending you a big hug

  Lorenzo

  And a kiss

  Lorenzo

  Goodnight

  Oh.

  So I sent a gushing, heartfelt, sucking up message and that was his reply?

  Had he answered my direct question about wanting to see me again? Nope. And the two-week thing. Did that mean he was busy for two weeks, but he’d like to see me after that? He said he’d think about the festival. Maybe that was positive? It wasn’t an outright no… it was in three weeks’ time, so that was after the busy two-week period he had coming up. And the big hug and kiss thing, was he showing enthusiasm or just being polite?

  I’d hoped asking questions would make things clearer in my mind, but actually it had done the complete opposite.

  As much as I hated to admit defeat, I couldn’t really see that there was much more that I could do. I typed a quick reply. I knew this was likely to be the last message I’d send to him and that the chances of him coming over were non-existent, but ever the optimist, I kept it upbeat and positive.

  Me

  Yeah, have a think and let me know. Could be good for your career. And after you’ve done your networking, we can go and have some fun… Goodnight x

  Done. In more ways than one.

  No more chasing.

  If Lorenzo wanted to come over, he would. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. I couldn’t sit around waiting for him. Like Reasanna kept reminding me, I was smart, successful and attractive. And if Lorenzo didn’t want to grab the opportunity to be with a woman like me, there must be other men that would.

  Online dating: here we come.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  According to self-proclaimed dating expert Roxy, the best way to get over one man was to get under another. Now whilst she had an interesting way of putting it, and I didn’t see why the saying couldn’t be ‘the best way to get over one man is to get on top of another’ (why do we have to always be the ones underneath?), she did have a point. So, last Sunday after my catch-up with Bella, I’d decided to dip my toes firmly into the online dating waters.

  Despite its reputation for just being a seedy hook-up site, I’d heard so much about Tinder that I decided to find out what all the fuss was about for myself. A week later, I could confirm that my first foray into the MAD (another Roxy acronym, for middle-aged dating) world had been an eye-opening experience. As far as I could make out so far, there appeared to be seven stages of Tinder:

  Stage 1: The Set-Up

  After downloading the app, I discovered it needed to be linked to Facebook. So I set up a fresh page, to avoid my dating escapades colliding with my professional life (yes, it was possible clients might spot me, but as long as I conducted myself ‘appropriately’, I didn’t see cause for concern). I gave myself a new moniker: Thea (because it sounds like the ‘phia’ at the end of my name) and age. Not because I was ashamed of being thirty-nine—just because common sense said that if I shaved a few years off and said I was thirty-five, I’d widen my pool of opportunity. These little white lies, I was reliably assured, were the premise based on which online dating existed. The truth could be revealed if all went well during the first date…

  Whilst I was fine to alter my name and age, I drew the line at uploading heavily photoshopped/filtered pictures or snaps taken a decade ago, as that would be really dishonest. Plus, it’s a false economy. If you blow up the size of your boobs because you think that’s what a man wants to see, it’s only going to lead to disappointment when you meet in real life. They’d just need to accept me as I was.

  Following some photo vetting with online dating expert Roxy, I uploaded a selection of real, untouched pics which fitted the ‘triple S’ image I wanted to project: ‘sophisticated, sexy and sense of humour’. Said images included the shot of me in the outfit Lorenzo had gone crazy for from my birthday dinner and one of me wearing a very fitted blue Victoria Beckham dress which showed legs and teased a tasteful amount of cleavage. After all, I wanted to leave something to the imagination.

  I kept my profile simple—you know, standard stuff about my love for good food and travel. Whilst not entirely original, this at least was also true. A thirty-kilometre radius seemed reasonable, and as for age preferences, I opted for males between twenty-nine and forty-nine—ten years either side of my own age. Set-up done.

  Stage 2: The Swiping

  This was the fun part. Well, initially at least. For the first few hours I enthusiastically swiped away at high speed, casually rejecting hundreds of photos without giving the blatant shallowness of this app a second thought. You’d be surprised how many things you can think of in a millisecond that cause you to swipe left.

  Yes, there’s the obvious things, like the fact that you’re not attracted to them because you feel they’re too short, look too young, too old, have too much hair, not enough hair/bald, look too serious, too smiley, not smiley enough (yep, like I said, the premise of this app is totally shallow). But in my opinion, the photos men post are also nuts. These also fall into several ‘turn-off’ categories. For example:

  a) I’m so hot I only need one photo. Seriously, guys. Everyone has that one killer photo. But I need to see a few of you in different settings to be sure that pic isn’t just a fluke and to check the attraction is there—don’t put all your eggs in one basket with just one.

  b) Look at me I’m sooo hot pose-y photos. You know, the ones of them flexing their muscles at the gym in the mirror, showing off their six-packs, etc. Photos with celebrities, selfies in bed…I know, on a site which is based purely on looks, you have to sell your best assets, but really… although, to be fair, in their defence the above are probably exactly the kind of photos to use if you want a hook-up.

  c) Look at me I’m soooo rich photos. The blatant flashiness—posing in front of sports cars, flaunting a giant Role
x type activity. Again, I guess they’re selling the dream…it’s a no from me though.

  d) Totally trashed pics. Why would you post a photo of you looking shit-faced? There’s a difference between having fun and looking like a total drunken dickhead. Unlike the flashy/pose-y photos which self-promote, these pics are the opposite of selling yourself.

  e) I’m with the hot girl pics. You’re supposed to be attracting a girl, so why are you posting pictures posing with one? Also, being surrounded by a bevy of beauties doesn’t make me think you’re an irresistible catch. It just makes me think you’re a ladies’ man.

  f) Don’t worry, the kid isn’t mine pics. Why include photos with babies and children if they’re not yours? Is seeing you with kids supposed to make my ovaries explode with excitement? Doing this only then requires you to use up valuable characters in your profile explaining that they are your niece/nephew/godchild/borrowed for the day. Not to mention the fact that posting images of children on Tinder is just wrong.

  g) Shady pics. Yeah, we know you look cool in your sunnies, but that’s kind of the problem. Most people look better in sunglasses, and so I need to see what you look like without them. As they say, the eyes are the windows to the soul. But who am I kidding? No one goes on Tinder to see someone’s soul…

  h) Hat pics. I want to see your hair. If you’ve got a hat on in every photo, I will assume you are bald. A lot of women go crazy for bald men and find them sexy—think Jason Statham, Bruce Willis, etc. So if that’s the look you’re rocking, don’t hide it. Be confident and own it.

  i) Sexual pics. E.g., zoomed-in boxer short pics or dick pics…say no more. Then again, I remind myself for the hundredth time that this is bloody Tinder—you know, the site renowned for hook-ups—so what the hell do I expect?