I’m forty-six. I’ve been self-employed for twelve years, earn a stable income, have never been married, and have no children.
My new acquaintance, Anton, is fifty-nine. In his profile, a serious photo: suit, gray temples, confident gaze. In correspondence, he was polite, wrote correctly, without silly innuendos. Everything looked respectable.
The new acquaintance, who is already 59, said he was looking for a wife no older than 30: when I asked why, his answer both amused and saddened me.
In the evening, out of curiosity, I entered his name in a search and accidentally came across his profile on a dating site. I opened it and read: “Looking for a wife. Age 25–32, I’m 59.”
I closed the page and decided it was his personal business. But in the morning, before the meeting, I thought: it will be interesting to see what he says if I ask directly.
Anton arrived exactly on time. Tall, well-groomed, expensive suit, nice watch, pleasant scent. We sat in a café and discussed the project. He spoke clearly, to the point, without unnecessary words. The work part went smoothly.
When we finished, he relaxed and said:
— It’s nice to work with such a professional woman. Usually, specialists talk nonsense.
I smiled and thanked him.
The conversation gradually turned personal.
— Are you married? — he asked.
— No.
— Did your career get in the way?
— I just haven’t met my person.
Anton nodded and said he’s been alone for two years after his divorce and is now looking for a relationship.
— Are you trying dating sites? — I asked.
— Yes, the profile is active. I know exactly what I want, so I filter.
I decided not to beat around the bush.
— I saw your profile. It says you’re looking for a woman up to thirty-two. Is that essential?
— Yes.
— Why?
He took a sip of coffee and said:
— Because… 😲☹️
After his words, I found it both funny and sad 😢
— It’s easier with younger women. They don’t live in the past, don’t complain, take life more lightly.
I felt uneasy.
— So women your age live only in the past?
— In most cases, yes. Constant complaints, resentments, dissatisfaction. They’re hard to deal with.
I put the spoon in the cup.
— And is it easy for you? You have two divorces, a serious business, constant problems. You also talk about difficulties. And you also have health problems.
He frowned.
— I’m not complaining, I’m stating facts.
— And when a woman talks about her difficulties, that’s a complaint?
He started to get irritated.
— I just want comfort.
— Comfort is when a girl doesn’t argue and looks up to you?
— You’re exaggerating.
— No. You don’t want a peer because a peer is an equal partner.
He pushed the cup away sharply.
— I thought you were reasonable, but you’re too principled.
— Not all men are bad. But when at fifty-nine you look for thirty-year-olds and explain it by saying women your age are “difficult,” it says a lot.
He stood up.
— We shouldn’t work together. You’re confrontational.
— I just don’t agree with women my age being dismissed in advance.
He quickly packed up his tablet and left.
I stayed at the café and finished my cold coffee. I only paid for myself because I don’t even accept a cup of coffee from men with such views.
In the evening at home, I thought a lot about the conversation. I’m forty-six. I have wrinkles and gray hair. I’ve started businesses twice: one failed, the other succeeded.
I took out loans and paid them off. I buried my father and supported my mother after illness. I know what it’s like to work sixteen hours and not give up.
I don’t live in the past. I live in reality, with its problems and victories.
But he needs a girl who hasn’t faced serious difficulties yet. Who won’t ask about two divorces. Who won’t notice the pressure and evening pills. Who will admire.
He doesn’t need a woman. He needs the illusion that he is still young and flawless.
