Love & The Goddess (11 page)

“Did you say that today?” I raised my eyebrows. Ella was so much cleverer than most of these men. Her mouth twitched in a grin.

“Yes, and I immediately got a red-faced confession – he told me the marriage was over but they were living together for the sake of the kids and he just wanted to test the waters
before leaving. They have such sympathy for themselves, especially if they think you’ll buy it.”

“That’s unreal, Ella. I need to try that out.”

“You’d have no problem doing it Kate. You initially have to be as honest as possible, without revealing too much and you need to constantly rely on what your gut is telling you. I
kept up the sympathy act right until the end when I told him he wasn’t for me.”

“What was his reaction?”

“Devastated I’d say, after believing I was so bohemian about it. He gave me a sad puppy-dog look which said, ‘How could I reject him with his beautiful body?’ It’s
good to get one-up on a messer like that. Now show me who else you’re in contact with, Kate.”

“ ‘Elmtree’ coming up.”

“Hmm. I’d prefer the artist.”

“Oh, but I’m getting on really well with Ray. We’ve spoken on the phone and I love his voice. He is quite sensitive and spiritual. Seems to have good emotional intelligence.
I’m meeting him on Friday night.”

“They can all put on an act. He reminds me of Trevor. I don’t want to be a killjoy, Kate. But make sure you don’t find yourself falling for the same type again. You’re
still vulnerable.”

“No, he’s different to Trevor,” I insisted, determined he would be since I was very taken with his picture and profile. Ella looked at me and frowned. I ignored her look,
asking instead, “Tell me what does lol mean?”

“Oh I hate that lol thing. It means ‘laugh out loud’. Most of the men on that site have no sense of humour so they’re laughing at their own jokes. Honestly, they think
they’re hilarious. And since you would not get the joke they have to point it out and write lol at the end of the sentence.”

“I thought ‘lol’ meant ‘lots of love’ but I couldn’t understand how it was being used in the context. These abbreviations are a bit juvenile, aren’t
they?”

“Promise me you’ll be careful with that ‘Elmtree’ guy, will you lovey? I can see you’ve already started imagining life coming up roses with him. It’s
dangerous when you start thinking like that.”

“I promise I’ll be careful, Ella. Now will you stay for lamb tagine and couscous?”

M
y relationship with
“Elmtree”
aka Ray had really begun when his name popped up on msn instant messenger. I had never
used this facility before and had decided it was not for me. That is, until I saw Ray’s handsome photograph appear with the line:
“Hi, Kate. Do you have time for a
chat?”

Immediately, I answered,
“Yeah, sure. How are you?”
and we began our chat.

Ray: I’m great thanks. Just back from a long walk in the Wicklow mountains.

Me: Lovely. I had a long walk on the prom in Salthill today. Glorious day in Galway.

Ray: Are you in Galway for the weekend then?

Me: I live here. My parents live in Dublin so I visit regularly. Would that be a problem for you?

Ray: Not at all. I love Galway so you would provide the perfect excuse for visiting.

Me: I see you’re single. Never been married then?

Ray: Well I was married and am now separated awaiting a divorce. But I see myself as single. I see you’re separated. Any kids?

Me: Yes one twenty-year-old daughter, a law student. She’s spending the summer in Boston. How about you?

Ray: Two sons and a daughter. I have them every second weekend. Do you live alone?

Me: Yes for the moment. I have the honour of being able to say I live in a convent. A renovated Dominican convent!
I know I’d promised myself to hold back information. Maybe I had a
bad case of low impulse control, me blurting everything out… but I was interested in this guy and felt I could trust him. Anyway he lived in Dublin and didn’t look like the stalker
types Ella warned me about.

Ray: Whoa Sister or is it Mother superior? I was a favourite of the nuns when I was an altar boy.

I was on a roll now. I loved this kind of teasing. It made me feel young and carefree.

Me: You still have that innocent altar boy look about you. Must work well for you in business… that trustworthy look! Do you work in the rag trade?

Ray: No, Sister Katie. You’re not the first one to ask me that. I’m a financial adviser. And yes I like to think I’m trustworthy. Sometimes I’m way too trusting. My
wife ran circles round me. How’re you coping?

Me: Good days and bad days, since the split. I never thought it would happen to me and it’s early days yet. I think I’m just on this site for diversion.

Ray: I’m separated over a year and it’s still very raw … coping with betrayal and lies. But I’m learning to trust again.

Me: You sound like you’re in tune with your feelings. I like a man who’s in touch with his feminine side.

Ray: That’s unbelievable. My wife told me I was overly in touch with my feminine side. I’d love to meet you Kate. Will you be in Dublin any time soon?

Me: Yes it so happens I’ll be visiting my parents next Friday.

Ray: Well then. We have to meet Friday night if you’re free.

Ray booked a table in a fancy restaurant called Le Chevre D’or. I arrived by taxi, having left my car at my parents’ house. He was standing outside the restaurant
when I arrived, immaculately dressed in a cream linen jacket over navy trousers. I felt excited as our eyes met. Standing at six foot two, with brown hair in well-cut layers brushed back behind a
generous quiff, hazel eyes and lightly-tanned skin, he had the clean cut good looks of a matinee idol from the fifties.

As I got out of the taxi, he took my hand and pecked me on the cheek. “Hi. You look well,” he said in the clipped business-like tone I recognised from having spoken to him on the
phone. He had a posh accent and I knew this was the way guys like him spoke, especially when they worked in the city finance. After exchanging pleasantries he waved his hand in the direction of the
door. “Shall we go inside?” He signalled for me to walk in front of him.

Delicious aromas of garlic, olives, fish bouillon, wild game, tomatoes and roasted herbs wafted past me. The clientele were chic yet relaxed, ranging from early thirties to couples in their
seventies. The waiter welcomed Ray like an old friend, leading us straight to our table, at a window overlooking an atrium. Pre-dusk light flooded into the restaurant, warming the yellow ochre
walls with a golden hue, as the last sunbeams danced to the strains of Debussy’s Clair de Lune. I was impressed – the polished mahogany floor gleamed in contrast to the starched white
table cloths, glistening with highly polished silver cutlery and ornate candelabras. High standards for people in high places. Yes, this was the part I had enjoyed about Trevor’s love of
standards, if only he hadn’t carried it to extremes. I smiled at Ray, appreciating this as a treat and a well-earned rest from my own cooking. The waiter asked us if we would like anything to
drink. Ray ordered a bottle of premier cru Chablis Fourchaume. After we were given our menus, Ray leaned across the table, holding his aqua blue silk tie flat against his cream shirt and asked,
“So, how are you finding internet dating?”

“I haven’t been doing it for long.”

“Aah,” he said, smiling and shaking his head. “I’ve been on and off it since I split with my wife.”

“And how have you found it?”

“Not much different to meeting people in pubs or clubs. You meet some good and some bad.” I noticed he had a strange habit of curling his lip, before the odd smirk escaped. I found
it a little disconcerting without knowing why.

“Have you had any successes?” After I said it, I thought I’d worded my question in a peculiar way.

“Ah yeah, I’ve met a couple of women, I’ve ended up dating for a while.”

“Excuse me, sir.” The waiter turned to Ray, then to me: “Madam.” And then to both of us, “Are you ready to order yet?”

“What’s the fish of the day?”

“Seabass, sir. Served with tomato concasse, puy lentils and gratinated potatoes. It is sup-perb!” He joined his thumb and index finger, touched his lips, blew a kiss into the
air.

In response to the flamboyant gesture, Ray inclined his head towards the waiter and winked at me. “Great. I’ll have that please, Pierre.”

I smiled as I relaxed into the rarefied atmosphere of the place. “Me too.”

“Starters,
Monsieur, Madame
?”

“Not for me,” Ray answered.

“Me neither,” I said automatically.

After the waiter left, I reminded Ray he had been telling me about his dating experiences. Dating gossip was fast becoming the most enjoyable aspect of the entire dating game. Everyone seemed to
love sharing stories and judging by Ella’s gossip about
“the diver”,
the Irish world of internet dating was very small.

“Oh, yes. I met a very attractive actress on the site and went out with her for a while. Then she told me she was still living in the same house as her husband though they were legally
separated.” He shook his head and pursed his lips. “I just couldn’t be part of a set-up like that. A woman is either with her husband or she’s not. In my book there’s
no in between.”

“I agree,” I said, as I raised my glass to my lips. His eye rested on my emerald ring, and I blushed, worrying he might think I was like the actress, only semi-detached. That was
probably why he’d asked me early on did I live alone. I decided I liked the fact that he was very ethical about standards. In between eating, our eyes met and we smiled. With his olive skin,
smouldering hazel eyes and aquiline nose, I thought him very attractive apart from his chin. Yes, the chin bothered me. It looked like an implant, something almost separate from the rest of his
face that jutted out awkwardly, lending him the appearance of an evil cartoon character when he turned sideways. I rubbed my temples as that last thought registered. Maybe the wine was hitting
whatever part of my brain processed images? But there was something else too that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I scolded myself that perhaps I’d become impossible to please
– some sort of a defence mechanism from getting hurt. I shouldn’t allow such thoughts to impede me moving forward.

“The good thing about internet dating is that every now and again a little gem crops up,” Ray teased.

“Really? And who is your latest gem?” I asked.

“You are,” he said.

All of a sudden I was immensely pleased as if I had passed some kind of test. “No more wine for me,” I told the waiter as he was about to refill my glass. I’d had one glass and
did not wish to drink anymore.

“I was going out with a French girl for a while. Like you she was into different cultures and interested in spirituality. You’re somewhat like her. She was highly intelligent but a
bit boho.” A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.

“Boho? Is that bad?”

“No, honestly. Boho is good in my book. I just mean a little alternative – different.”

Ping! There was that feeling again, as if I’d passed a test. I seemed to be chalking up points and felt mad eager to please. I was very attracted to him, although I didn’t feel
aroused in my body. Maybe I was too old to feel wet and gooey over someone? Maybe I was pre-menopausal and all my oestrogen had dried up? To cover my angst, I smiled and loosened my stiff posture
by swaying my shoulders.

“The French girl – she went to Nepal for three months to meditate with the Dalai Lama.”

“Really? How did she get on?” I was genuinely interested.

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her since.” The waiter arrived and removed our plates. Ray announced he was too full for dessert, and I concurred, although the food
was exquisite. Ray asked for a brandy and I asked for a camomile tea. “So tell me about your plans to go to South America.”