THE SEX DIARY: My date was 27 with abs like a Greek statue. I straddled him on a bench by the Thames..
. By Annabel Bond Published: 17:00, 20 June 2024 | Updated: 17:29, 20 June 2024 e-mail View comments On the night I met Eliot, a man young enough to be my son, I was feeling reckless. Although my marriage had been over for more than a year, I was not yet divorced.
In fact, technically, we weren’t even separated. Six months after we split, my husband had returned to stake a claim on our house, so we were living unhappily together in the family home in London with our three children and one cockapoo. My ex had taken the attic room and we alternated nights on and off from domestic duties like a pair of fighting cats.
Neither of us had started seeing other people, although I’d had one dating app meet-up where the man had bored me to tears with a droning history of French cycling and I’d been too polite (and clueless) to leave. This particular night, I hadn’t been in the mood to go out at all but my friend had persuaded me, with the help of a lot of wine. It was summer and, at a certain hour, the bar we’d been drinking at turned into a dance venue.
While I was dancing, I did not worry about the state of my divorce. Everyone on the dancefloor was younger than me, but in the dim light I thought I could pass for younger than my near half-century. And even if I couldn’t, I tried not to care.
Writer Annabel Bond, a mother of three in her late 40s, tells of her date with a m.
