Love, Lust, and Other Complications

By P. M. George

Sue is looking for male company to add something extra to her life. On the advice of her daughter, she works up the courage to dabble in online datingbut shes not convinced its the right approach for her. After a lifetime of unfulfilled expectations, shes still wrestling with her own insecurities and lack of confidence. A proudly independent woman, she is unwilling to sacrifice her identity or happiness to be with a man just for the sake of having a relationship.

Mike is on his own quest for a meaningful connection. Even after all these years, women remain a mystery to him. Is loving a woman the same thing as lusting after her? He hopes to find a soul mate who inspires both, but his own insecurities keep getting in the way.

A chance encounter on a coastal walk could provide the answer theyve both been seeking, and an unexpected and passionate affair ensues. Now both must face their conflicting views about love and sex and about age and connection. Their sexual relationship is intense and unfettered, not hampered by age or the late-life expectations of others.

Can you find loveor does love find you? Are desire, sex, and obsession possible at any age? For Mike and Sue, two strangers on parallel quests for late-life love, life after sixty becomes lovelier, lustier, and more complicated than either could have previously imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Feb 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781452513225

P. M. George

P. M. George was born and educated in Melbourne, Australia. A significant career as a psychologist, educationalist and coach has provided George with insights about relationship and human connection; those insights have informed this debut novel.

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Copyright © 2014 P. M. George.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-1321-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-1322-5 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 2/17/2014

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

REFERENCES

T he need to make peace with the existential aloneness of life and not seek fulfilment or validation through others… Maybe, then, this was how love in older age differed from young love: the realisation that sexual union was not enough to cancel existential loneliness, a realisation that was more apparent in the light shone by the increasing awareness of one’s morta lity.

PROLOGUE

H is breath brushed her lips, her neck, her nipples. His hand was between her legs, stroking, caressing her. Although familiar, his touch was electrifying, just as it always was. Sue moved her body to intensify their connection, her passion building just as it always did. Honey Bun, my Honey Bun, he whispered, looking into her eyes, engaging all her senses. She felt his male hardness seeking entry and she opened wide to him. I love you Allen, she murmured, her hands moving over his buttocks to draw him closer, and to feel him more fully. She heard their breathing quicken in tandem as they both moved closer to climax. He stopped his driving rhythm, staying motionless inside her, prolonging the mo ment.

The shrill note of her alarm clock disturbed the morning. Sue’s eyes snapped open at the sound, surveying the big bed. Almost immediately she was aware of herself as its sole occupant, her arms and legs wrapped around a humped up doona, not the warm body of a man. Her tears welled up, spilling onto the pillow. The pain in her heart grew heavier as she remembered that now Allen came to her only in her dreams, his death already five years in the past.

CHAPTER 1

S ue Quenton looked at the computer screen with amazement. The search engine for the dating site listed 64 males between the ages of fifty-five and seventy, living within 10 kilometres of St Kilda, who were looking for a relationship with a woman. If she changed the search criteria to within 25 kilometres, then the number of men looking for a relationship in that age category increased to 515! Within her social circles, there were few single men. The numbers on the dating site seemed incredibly high. Kate, her daughter, must have been right. Maybe this was a way to find a new relationship, even at her age.

Sue was sixty years old. Not old really, given that the average life span for women was currently pegged at eighty years. She knew she was still fit and had the energy to play squash three or four times a week. There was no reason, she told herself, that she wouldn’t still be alive in twenty years. That said, she was aware that the time she had left to live was finite and, increasingly, she told herself that she wanted to get the most out of it. She liked her job as a research librarian at the local university, she was able to travel overseas once a year, and she had close female friends to spend time with, but she still felt vaguely unsatisfied. More and more her body was missing the sexual connectedness she had experienced in her previous relationship. She lived alone now and was happy with that situation; she had no need of someone to cook and care for. Male company was limited to work colleagues and the men she met in competition squash. Meeting a man who was a good conversationalist, who would take her out to dinner or the theatre, who would spend the night in her bed but would go home the next morning, was what she told herself she was ready for.

Sue began to look more circumspectly at the profiles that were listed on the dating site. The more descriptions she read, the more they sounded the same, as if they were following a formula. All of the men had a good sense of humour, liked travel, were of average build, physically fit, and keen for a relationship, not just sex. She studied the smiling faces that the men had posted, and wondered how long ago their photos had been taken, as they certainly did look younger than the stated age on their information profile. Putting their best foot forward, she thought as she flicked through the assortment of profiles.

‘I am a Sagittarius man: confident, positive, friendly, warm and romantic! I am well-travelled and know how to treat a lady. Looking for a lovely lady to spend some quality time with.’

‘I’m funny, caring, passionate, affectionate, romantic, active, fun to be with and I love to laugh. I am told I am good company and look younger than my years. I like to travel overseas and to go bush walking. I want to meet someone who is romantic, tactile, passionate about life, successful, appreciates being treated well and shows affection.’

‘I am a romantic, hopeless it appears, but I would love to give and receive love. I am self-sufficient, outgoing, intelligent, very reliable, articulate, clean and presentable. I can cook a great meal, do my own washing and ironing and keep a very tidy house so I do not need a cook, or a housekeeper. I seek a mate: a best mate, a lover, a confidante.’

Can you trust what they say? It all sounds too perfect. How would they have time for a new relationship? she asked herself. What would I have to offer? What could I write that would make me appear interesting and still be truthful.

Sue closed down the computer daunted by the task. Maybe Kate will have some advice for me. She’s had plenty of experience with this type of dating.

Some days later, when Kate came down to visit from Sydney, they looked at the site again. Together they noticed some discrepancies.

Look at this one, Mum. This guy describes himself as fit and athletic and having all his own hair. Now look at his photo, she said, enlarging the image so it filled the screen.

Not a lot hair on his head, Kate! It must be growing in other places. They both agreed that a heavy thatch of it somewhere else would not be an attraction.

There’s not much written in the section ‘My Ideal Partner’, Kate commented. Guys say they’re discerning in taste but they haven’t put much about the woman they hope to meet. Look at this one. There’s nothing about what he prefers in regard to a female’s interests, education, job role, or political persuasion. I get the impression that these guys would take on anyone who would have them.

They’ve filled in the age category though. Not many men want to meet a woman over sixty years of age.

You’re right, Mum. See this one. He admits he’s over seventy. Look, he’s bald and overweight and he wants to meet up with a ‘beautiful lady’ between the ages of twenty and sixty years.

In your dreams, they said in unison, as they took note of the lower end of the range he had specified.

Sue began to ask herself about her own presuppositions. Although not explicitly stated, the Looking4Love.com users seemed to put appearance ahead of personality as an indicator of attractiveness.

What attracts you when you look at all these photos, Kate? Do you go for the handsome ones or is it something else?

Yeah, well, I want to meet someone who looks good, Mum, and that means having a full head of hair and a fit, athletic body.

Sue’s immediate reaction was that her daughter’s focus was too narrow.

What about common interests, Kate?

Well, if he likes to do the same sort of things that I do on the weekends, then I’d probably accept his contact, provided he looked okay.

Sue re-examined the photos on the screen more carefully and observed her own reactions, noticing that she was averse to beards and moustaches. If there was no photo, she was uninterested in looking at the rest of the profile. Her daughter was also repelled by the absence of a photo.

You wonder if they’re hiding something, Kate commented.

Yes, it makes you think that they might be married, Sue said.

She looked at the screen again. Some photos attracted Sue’s interest, some did not. She decided that physical appearance must be important to her but wondered how to evaluate its relative importance. Bad spelling and poor grammar were turn-offs. Profiles where the writing revealed something humorous captured her attention. Kate pointed to one man’s interest in cycling ‘of a non-Lycra type’ and that prompted a giggle.

You make me laugh, Kate. I’ve really missed spending time with you since you’ve been in Sydney. I know how much you like living in Bondi but I wish you lived closer.

Kate had lived away from Melbourne for the last ten years. A promotion in her job role took her to Sydney, and now, although she had changed jobs more than once, she no longer wished to live in Melbourne again. She liked the faster pace and the party scene in Sydney. Bondi had a beach culture, a coffee shop or a bar on every corner, and residents who were mostly young and single. Although Sue and Kate did not see each other very often, they kept in touch by phone or email. Sue would never forget that when Allen died, Kate was also going through a break-up of a long-term relationship. The fact that they were both grieving and needing support had brought them closer together. Sue smiled to herself as she remembered her daughter coming to stay for a week and how they had decided to take turns to be supportive on alternate days rather than both being in tears together.

Mum, the thing to do now is to write your own profile, Kate said. You’ll then have a better idea of what you want in a relationship and what you have to give to it.

Sue re-examined the dating site. The pre-set requirements to fill in such as height, build, religion, and education were easy to complete, but the open-ended sections where you could describe your own interests and the preferences that you had regarding a relationship were more intimidating.

What do I want? Sue asked herself several times.

She leaned back in her chair and looked through the window to the trees across the road to consider the matter more deeply.

It’s strange, but I don’t think I know.

Sue’s female friends provided her with company and support: intimate conversations about the ongoing joys and sorrows of their respective lives, shared activities like going to the theatre or weekends away from Melbourne, a shoulder to cry on in times of trouble. What more could she want? Sue liked her own company too, and knew that she would feel hemmed in without some time alone in her week. However, there was something about a loving relationship with a man that was different from a friendship. It was not just the sex and the physical side of the relationship, but the way in which you felt special, cared for. At least, that was how it had been with Allen before he died. Sue wondered whether she could be lucky enough to find another satisfying relationship like the one she had had with him. After much rumination, she wrote the following:

‘I am an active person who still enjoys my professional work. I like to do things rather than just watch, whether it is gardening, playing sport or discussing current issues and ideas. I go to the theatre, and I play sport three times a week. I like to travel and observe how things are done differently in different places. I also like a quiet time at home or a walk on a beach at sunset. I have learned that all of these activities are more enjoyable when shared with someone.

My ideal man would be of average build and height. He would have a wide range of interests, some of which we would share. He would be thoughtful about ideas and relationships. Tolerant of others, patient and kind-hearted, he would also have love to spare for noble causes as well as for a woman.’

Sue re-read what she had written. Her piece failed to talk about a physical relationship and that subject had a high priority for her. Skin on skin—that’s what she wanted. The profile required information on trivialities like eye colour preference and the preferred zodiac sign. She wondered whether there was a way to tackle basic information about attitudes towards sex. Perhaps sex was an implicit part of any deal? Sue explored what other people had written, noting that there were few references to sex at all, except for one entry that indicated, bravely, that its author was only interested in the sex, and nothing more. Most entries used romantic wording and talked about ‘soul mates’, leaving an impression that sex was unimportant. Sue wondered if she should refer to sex in her profile but then decided to stay with what she had written, at least for the moment.

Now I need to find a half-decent photo of me, she told herself with a heavy sigh. Usually, she avoided having her photo taken as she found it difficult to accept the way she looked as she aged. Her good features had previously been light brown hair and smooth skin. Her hair colour had not changed, by kind favour of her hairdresser, but her skin was beginning to show wrinkles and age spots. Médaillons de cimetière she called them. The literal translation of the French wording was ‘cemetery medals’! She chose a photo taken on a recent trip to Queensland—tropical greenery and a small waterfall in the background added interest and took some of the focus away from her. She uploaded it to the allocated space, then closed down the computer screen as she did not feeling brave enough to try and make a first contact with someone. She considered telephoning Kate and hearing about her experiences first before she ventured to use the system. She also thought about giving the whole idea away. After all, one good relationship ought to be enough in a lifetime, perhaps more than she deserved, or so she told herself.

And her relationship with Allen had been truly satisfying. When she was first introduced to him, she thought his appearance different, strange even. He had been a slightly built man of medium height. Allen liked to say that he was 5ft 10ins tall but Sue always teased him, saying he reached that height only with a little jump. His hair was bushy, often needing a cut, and had started to grey. His disdain for status and fashion had been evident in the clothes he wore. They were acquired at the local Opportunity Shop and worn until they fell apart. However, he was not a sloppy dresser; the methodical nature of his character could be seen in the neatness of the clothing that he wore. He had a strong presence that drew your attention and intensely blue eyes that seemed to engulf you when he caught your eye.

They had had a long and passionate affair lasting over several years before they finally bought a house together. He taught her a lot about good sex and it was with him that she first experienced an orgasm, even though she had been married for seven years prior to meeting him. He was a romantic man. Sue recalled, although it was long ago, how one time he had literally swept her off her feet and carried her into his bed. The surprise of his action took her breath away, leaving an indelible trace in her memory. He always called her Honey Bun and told her that being with her was the sweetest thing he knew. Even when they moved in together, he bought her flowers, and found many ways to make her feel important to him.

Allen was an active man who belonged to a running group and loved his tennis. He would play doubles with three other guys at 6:30am three mornings a week before setting off for work. They were all ‘Good Guys’, of course. Almost every man that Allen had ever met was a good guy. His positive view of humanity was an endearing part of him. On dark winter mornings, Allen would be out of bed before 6:00am to play tennis with them. From their bed, Sue would see the car headlights and hear the crunch of tyres on the drive as his tennis friends swept in. She would stay put in the warm bed, enjoying her time alone, listening to the birds as they began their morning calls and watching the early light of dawn suffuse the sky until the alarm clock signalled that it was time to start her day. It had always seemed to her a blessing that Allen had enjoyments outside the purview of their relationship. They both had their own friends, and it did not cause problems for them that these friendships were not shared.

There had been days when Sue wondered why Allen had chosen to live with her. When she had asked him, he had jokingly accused her of seducing him, and she had let the matter rest. She believed it might have been because she was less controlling and less demanding than his ex-wife, but that was just a guess. Allen had been caring and supportive, providing an antidote to the feelings of belittlement she had experienced in her first marriage. Sue also believed that having her own career and salary cut down on possible sources of conflict that often arise in relationships. Because Allen had been so little interested in material things, he may have been difficult to live with if he had assumed control over their money, as Sue’s first husband did. As it was, if Sue would say that she needed new furniture, or saucepans, or whatever else, Allen’s response was predictable, Woman, he would say, You have already got (whatever it was). You don’t need another one.

Sue would still go out and buy whatever she wanted using her own money. He could spend his spare money on what was important to him, like resurfacing the tennis court or buying a new tennis net.

During the last three years of their relationship, Allen’s health deteriorated and Sue had to take on the role of carer. The transition from him looking after her to her full assumption of the responsibilities of care for him was a gradual but an inevitable one. She faced a lot of criticism because she did not resign from her job to nurse him. The six months that Allen had been in a nursing home before he died were traumatic for Sue. She had to watch the man she loved fade away both mentally and physically, as poorly trained staff attempted to care for him. She felt great sadness to see a man who had been dux of his school and a graduate of Melbourne University lose his capacity to think and remember. While there were occasions when Sue believed that Allen did not even recognise her, there were a couple of times when he was quite lucid. When she told him about putting their dog down, she had wept openly, and he had said in the old voice, the one she knew so well Don’t distress yourself, Woman. On another occasion, he asked in a way that cut her to the quick When can I come home, Honey Bun? I promise I won’t be much trouble.

Despite the long period of time when Allen’s health and functioning were declining, Sue was not prepared for the overwhelming grief that ensued following his death. The simplest things became difficult to accomplish, as her tears got in the way. Before his death, she enjoyed time at home by herself, but after his death every room was full of his memories and she felt deserted and lonely. To escape those all too present memories, Sue decided to move. The day she bought her apartment at auction was still vivid in her memory. She had experienced uncontrollable nervous shaking during the drama of the bidding war. The situation emphasised her ambivalence: she felt strong and independent in being able to buy an apartment according to her own tastes, yet at the same time, she felt alone and fearful without the support of someone to make the decision with her. When she finally moved in, Sue knew she had made the right choice. The place belonged to her alone and the memories of her life with Allen did not move in with her. Although she continued to grieve for him, the negative memories were less compelling and she was more able to think of the relationship as a whole and remember the good times. She could tell herself with some conviction how lucky she had been to have met and lived with such a wonderful human being. And she could consider the possibility of meeting someone else who would also add richness to her life experience. Allan had always told her that their age difference probably meant that she would one day face the world without him. He made her promise to look for someone else if he died before her, because he believed that loving relationships were the most important part of anyone’s life.

But how do you meet another man at my age, even for a casual relationship? Sue asked herself. Is computer dating really the answer?

CHAPTER 2

M ike Webster woke up that morning just in time to switch off the alarm before it disturbed him. He got out of bed without a moan, pulled on his grey, fleecy-lined tracksuit bottoms, then, picking his way carefully through the sprawl of clothes sleeping on the floor, walked to the window and tossed back the blue, opaque curtains that made it difficult for Peeping Toms to see what he sometimes got up