Divorcing at the age of sixty-eight was neither a romantic gesture nor a midlife crisis. It was an admission of defeatthat after forty years of marriage to a woman with whom Id shared not just a home, but also the quiet stares over dinner and all the words left unspoken, I had not become the man I ought to be. My name is Edward, and I hail from York. My tale began in loneliness and ended with an unexpected revelation.
For nearly a lifetime, I lived with Margaret. We married in our twenties, in the England of the seventies. At first, there was love: stolen kisses on the park bench, long talks at dusk, shared dreams. Then, it all faded. First came the children, then the mortgages, the work, the exhaustion, the routine Our conversations dwindled to passing remarks in the kitchen: Did you pay the gas bill? Wheres the receipt? Were out of salt.
In the mornings, Id look at her and no longer see my wifejust a weary neighbour. And likely, she saw the same in me. We werent living together anymore; we were merely existing side by side. Stubborn and proud, I told myself one day, You deserve more. Another chance. To breathe fresh air, at long last. And so, I asked for a divorce.
Margaret didnt resist. She simply sat in her chair, gazed out the window, and said, Very well. Do as you please. Im done fighting.
I left. At first, I felt free, as if a weight had lifted. I slept on the other side of the bed, adopted a tabby cat, sipped my tea on the balcony in the mornings. But then came another feelingemptiness. The house grew too quiet. Meals lost their flavour. Life turned dull.
Then, a thought struck me, one I thought rather clever: to find a woman who could help. Someone like Margaret in the old dayssomeone to cook, clean, and share a chat. Perhaps a bit younger, in her fifties, kind and experienced. A widow, maybe. My demands werent grand. I even told myself, Im not a bad prospectI take care of myself, own my flat, and Im retired. Why not?
I began my search. I hinted to neighbours, mentioned it to acquaintances. Then, I mustered the courage to place an advert in the local papershort and to the point: Gentleman, 68, seeks lady for companionship and domestic assistance. Good terms, lodging and board included.
That advert changed my life. Because three days later, a single letter arrived. Just one. But it was enough to make my hands tremble.
Dear Edward,
Do you truly believe a woman in the 2020s exists solely to wash socks and fry sausages? We are no longer in the Victorian era.
You are not seeking a companiona person with a soul and desiresbut an unpaid housemaid with a veneer of romance.
Perhaps you ought to learn first how to care for yourself, cook your own meals, and keep your home in order.
Yours sincerely,
A woman who isnt looking for a gentleman with a tea towel in hand.
I read it again and again. At first, I seethed with anger. How dare she? Who did she think she was? I wasnt trying to exploit anyoneI only wanted warmth, a welcoming home, a womans touch
But then I wondered: What if she was right? Without realising it, was I merely seeking someone to make life comfortable for me, rather than learning to build it myself?
I started with the basics. I learned to make soup. Then, shepherds pie. I subscribed to a cooking channel, shopped with a list, ironed my own shirts. I felt clumsy, even foolish, but in time, it stopped being a chore. It became my life. My choice.
I even framed that letter and hung it in the kitchen. A reminder: dont ask others to rescue you if you wont first climb out of the pit yourself.
Three months have passed. I still live alone, but now my flat smells of roast dinners. Geraniums I planted bloom on the balcony. On Sundays, I bake apple tartMargarets recipe. Sometimes, I think, I could take her a slice. Perhaps, for the first time in forty years, Ive understood what it means not just to be a husband, but to stand as a person beside someone.
Now, if you ask whether I wish to marry again, Ill say no. But if ever a woman sits beside me on that park benchone who seeks not a master, but simply conversationIll surely speak to her. Only now, Ill do so as a different man.
