19April2025
Dear Diary,
Ive come to realise that the answers Ive been chasing have been hidden in plain sight all along. Im not twentyfour any more, nor am I approaching thirtyfive, and yet the questions about love still feel as fresh as they did when I was a lad.
I was tired of dragging this solitary load alone. Mark, whats wrong with me? I asked myself one evening, staring at the dim glow of the kitchen light. Am I too boring? Do I smell terrible? Am I clingy? Or perhaps Im simply not giving enough affection? The more I racked my brain, the louder the chorus of the world seemed: everyone around me the thin, the stout, the drinkers, the pretty, the plain all had someone, some sort of relationship. And I? I was still on the outside.
Lucy, my longtime mate, dropped a bombshell. Listen, Mark dont laugh, but my gran used to talk about a veil of singleness a sort of oldworld curse that keeps a man single. I laughed it off. What, are we living in the Middle Ages now? she snapped back, standing up from her chair. You think Im making this up? My thirdcousins mother lifted that veil off her own sister. Its a real thing.
Curiosity got the better of me. Whos this gran? I asked, more out of habit than interest. Lucy pulled out her phone and dialled Grace, her sister, whod apparently been the recipient of that very veil. After a few minutes of chewing the tip of her tongue, Graces voice crackled through. Mark, love youre still on the market, eh? Getting married again? Oh, and what about Ben? Hes out, I guess. Anyway, Ill be there soon. She hung up, a sigh following.
Whats the plan? I asked. Its simple, Lucy replied. My gran said the veil is still hanging on you. She gave me an address youre going to meet her there. I shrugged, but the thought of a possible cure for my perpetual bachelorhood pulled me out of bed the next day.
When I arrived at the old cottage in the outskirts of Manchester, the granMolly, a wiry woman with sharp eyeslooked me over. No veil on you, she declared. What? Youve been choosing the wrong men all your life. First, the bloke who abandoned his child, promised you the world yet was already married. Second, the lad who pretended hed be different, but turned out a right scamp. Third well, you havent even met him yet. She shook her head. Your proper man will appear when you stop looking. Hell be yours, but not entirely yours. Youll have to trust him, be patient, and let things unfold.
She then turned to my friend, urging her to see a doctor and stop poking at needless worries. I remember that conversation as if it were yesterday. It was the moment I finally gave up on chasing fleeting romances and decided to visit Molly for real.
Months later, after countless deadends, I met James. Our first encounter was almost comic. Id just moved into a flat with my daughter, Ellie, in a block that had been empty for years. The neighbour, Aunt Kate, mentioned the landlord was often away, rotating between jobs. One lazy Saturday, curiosity got the better of me and I peeked through the slightly ajar door of the flat next door. A man was hanging wallpaper, the whole room a mess of dust and paint. I slipped away quietly, assuming the landlord had returned.
A week later we bumped into each other in the hallway. The doors in this building were the sort that wouldnt let the second open unless the first was shut; I was trying to force the first and couldnt get it to budge. James apologized, closed his flat, and we both heard the soft scuff of hurried footsteps. Later, I blocked his exit on purpose, just to tease him a bit. It became a game: hed let me open the door first, Id let him close mine.
He helped a neighbour, Christine, lift her bike, and I baked a batch of scones for him. One afternoon we met in the park where Jamess sonabout the same age as Elliejoined us on the swings. The children laughed, our conversation flowed, and I felt a warmth I hadnt known for years.
Six months on, James asked me out, introduced me to his family, and we began living together. Before moving in, he laid his cards on the table: Mark, Im not a twentyyearold lout. Im a grown man with a job, no booze, no smoking, no bad habits. Ill do my part, respect you, and support you. I cant promise an endless romance, but Ill be faithful. He sounded honest, a little vulnerable. I love you as a friend, maybe more, but Ive never truly loved anyone the way I love a good mate.
He confessed hed once fallen for a girl in his youth, only to find she saw him as a brother. Hed been with other women, all beautiful, clever, or witty, yet none had clicked. He admitted his past left him wary, and that love sometimes felt like a punishment rather than a gift. He urged me to decide if I could live without fireworks, to think before replying.
I thought it over, and a week later I walked into his large, bustling home, welcomed warmly by his wife, Sarah, and their children. I worried they might see me as a replacement, but they accepted me and Ellie as if wed always belonged. I never regretted saying yes. James proved reliable; together we built a steady life. Occasionally, a stray glance would catch my eye, a fleeting memory of an old flame, but it never disturbed the peace wed cultivated.
Now, as I watch James washing our kitchen windows on a bright spring morning, sunlight spilling over the sill, I feel a quiet contentment. He pauses, looks at me, and says, Mark, youve been waiting a long time, havent you? I smile, remembering the old grans words. Patience, after all, isnt about waiting in idle hope; its about staying true to yourself while the world turns.
Lesson learned: the right partnership arrives when you stop chasing shadows and let life unfold at its own pace. Patience truly is a virtue.
