A woman scorned

When a woman is in love, she looses all judgement. It can happen anywhere, perhaps after a one night stand when she keeps seeing the her most recent conquest, perhaps someone who sticks out in class, who calls her attention to him in some subtle way, she doesn't go for show-offs. Perhaps a chance meeting will set off a buzz in her stomach, perhaps a friend of a friend at a party. At work, at play, anywhere.

And if, after a little bit of conversation and a little more action she discovers that the new object of her affection is younger than her, well it seems to matter less, once things are started that is. Even if there are ten years between them one is always hearing about long-standing relationships with just such a separation and anyway it can be an act of defiance against the more tradition older man syndrome that the world is so obsessed with.

Still, on the odd occasion when discussing such popular topics as books and movies and she realises that when she was discovering that new thing, book or movie or some such thing, she was also discovering boys and alcohol whilst he was still most concerned with trucks and superheroes. On those occasions, she feels a weird twinge. It's a kind of guilty feeling, even if he is not so innocent any more.

And if, when they have been together a few weeks and he tells her of his travel plans that are already set in motion, money has been paid to a university, plane tickets have been looked into, well that's a good thing. It takes the pressure off the younger man issue, she can have him as a plaything for a little while and then send him on his way, like a beautiful peacock. And of course he will always remember her and their brief, fleeting moment.

But then when love gets in the way, it becomes tricky. He is leaving and suddenly doesn't want to go. She suddenly doesn't want him to go either, but she remembers that travel flavour, once in your mouth, it is hard to get rid of, and she fears his future self resenting her for keeping him like a caged bird. But then a new tactic, he is begging her to come too, at least for a bit, in a few months, a holiday where they can travel around together. He is insistent and she weakens under the pressure of his resolve.

The travel flavour has caught fire in her mouth and she begins to entertain the wild notion.

And so he leaves with promises and kisses and she is tearful and hopeful.

And so she works and works and works, overtime and weekends and saves everything to go too. She writes him long colourful letters and sends them off in long colourful envelopes, and sends emails and sits on internet communication programmes all night to talk to him. He responds with emails, but not as frequently, but she thinks it's OK, he has to go to internet cafés, and I can survive on less.

But his emails become less frequent. A week goes by and she has heard nothing and she begins to worry about his welfare. Finally she hears from him and he is well, although the latest email seems less expressive than previous ones. She receives a letter and leaps with excitement, but the text is vapid, devoid of any emotion towards her, as if he is writing to a friend or worse still, a parent. It is disappointing, but she thinks that he is better at communicating in person anyway. So she works and stays home not spending her money and sits in her room listening to music that reminds her of him.

The months pass and she thinks about booking a flight, she checks prices and asks him when, when, when should I come? Suddenly he is evasive and changes the subject, and when she is insistent, he is gone, off-line. Three days pass, four and she has heard nothing. On the fifth day is he back explaining he had a problem with the internet when she demands his whereabouts. Huh! She is thinking, and so again she asks when, when, when, where should I come? And again he is evasive and she becomes annoyed and again he is gone.

A week passes. No word. Then comes The Email. He is saying he might have other plans, he is unreliable, he is sorry. He can't travel with her. She is angry, resentful, rejected. And then after a day her head clears. She writes a sweet mail back saying she has decided to travel alone, but she will need to stay with him for just one night.

He is overjoyed that she has taken his news so well and professes enthusiasm to have her stay with him. So she gives him a date, time and flight number and asks him to pick her up at the airport, as she will feel completely lost in the new place. Again he is willing and excited to see her, to have her in his bed one last time, hopefully he can manage to keep her and his new girlfriend apart, as it is only one night. Surely he can get away with that. And he thinks what a wonderful woman, the perfect image of maturity to still wish to come and to travel alone through new and wonderful places.

So the day comes, she packs and heads to the airport. After all the proceedings she is sitting in a little silver bird winging her way across the ocean.

He arrives at the airport early, having carefully chosen his clothes and brushed his hair just so to make it look not brushed at all. He must look different, changed by all the new experiences he has had, but also cool and forgivingly handsome. His heart begins to pound when the loudspeakers announce that the plane has touched down and he strikes a pose near the exit with his head only half turned towards the people who are now flowing out of the gate. He tries to look as if he is so lost in his thoughts, so unaware of her presence. Still after a while, he realises that the people are thinning out and she is nowhere to be seen. He cranes his neck to see over the few stragglers and there is no sign of her. He waits an hour. Still nobody. He checks the flight number on his new fancy phone. Yes this is what she gave him. Two more hours pass and he is frantic. He tries with his limited language to communicate with the desk clerk, but he cannot make himself understood.

Finally he gives up defeated and goes home to check and see if she has sent him a message to say she has been delayed, or involved in some accident. Surely that would be her only reason for not being there. Nothing. A day passes and he has emailed her five times with a variation of moods leaving his number and address and asking over and over what has happened to her.

On the morning of the following day he tries a different tactic and emails a mutual friend, thinking perhaps she is unable to send him a message.

He gets a pretty speedy reply, as the mutual friend is puzzled to why he thinks that she would be coming to see him when she held a huge party before leaving to the tropics for a couple of weeks. He is dumbfounded and sits slumped over his computer and staring out the window beyond where the sky is grey and a light sleet is beginning to fall.

She sits on the warm white sand and drinks champagne. She toasts the empty air. “ To us” she says.