The wine tasted sweet as Martin sipped it at the Bianco Restaurant. The warmth of the fermented grapes warming as it slid down his throat with the hopes that it would calm his nerves. The middle aged man with salt and pepper hair sat in the restaurant and wondered what possessed him to place an ad on a dating site.
"These things never work," he told himself as he had filled out the questionnaire about whether he liked walks on the beach and did he mind if someone smoked or drank.
The ad had produced few results and the weeks went by without much interest. Then one day as he was perusing the site out of habit more than anything else, he spotted a woman's profile and stopped. Looking familiar, he read the profile and paused. There was no real name given, but went by the moniker "Peaches and Cream" and then he looked at her profile picture again. He recognized her. It was the smile that caught his attention. There could be no one else with that smile and the eyes that sparkled and the rich auburn hair he used to love to touch. It had to be her.
He sent a flirt invitation with no expectations. She might not even recognize him he thought and she probably already had others interested in her. She always was still beautiful girl and it was so long ago that she probably would ignore his attempt at contact. Much to his surprise, the next day she replied and his heart began to thump in his chest. Now what would he do? Bolstering his courage with a second cup of coffee, he responded asking if she remembered him. She replied that she did and the conversation began.
She had divorced two years earlier and had two children. A boy and a girl both married and on their own. He was widowed five years and had one son who lived in another state. Both had dogs and a penchant for Italian food. More importantly, they both remembered dating in college and the ultimate ending of the relationship when they graduated and went on with their separate lives. It seemed so long ago. A lifetime ago that was more like a dream than reality, but still they agreed to meet at a local pub that night.
Martin took deep breaths and drank more wine to keep him from bolting from the chair and leaving the restaurant, but he didn't. He needed to see her even if it was just for one more time and decided she wasn't interested. He knew the years had taken their toll on him and would understand completely if she quietly, but politely said she was seeing someone else. He could handle it. He told himself. No big deal.
A few minutes later and another glass of wine he leaned back in his chair and saw a woman walk through the doors of the restaurant. Her hair was shorter then he remembered and she wasn't the slender young woman of his youth, but she was still very attractive, walked with confidence and when she smiled, all the good memories came back to him. He stood as she walked over to him and smiled.
"Martin?" she asked.
"Catherine," he said and took her hand. "It's so good to see you again."
There was a brief hug before she sat down across from him and Martin could barely contain his excitement. She smelled like spice and flowers. It was the same perfume she wore when they were in college. It made him smile with the memory of it. She was older, but still Catherine.
"You're just as beautiful as I remember," he said.
"And you Martin are more distinguished," she returned the smile. "Life has been kind."
He didn't feel as if life had been kind with the loss of his wife. It had been the unkindest thing he had ever experienced, but he pushed it away in the back of his mind and focused only on her.
"I was afraid that you wouldn't want to see me again after we split."
"Oh Martin that was thirty years ago. We were both young and had our whole lives ahead of us. I hold no grudges. Do you?" she asked.
He shook his head, "No. No grudges. I'm just glad we got to see each other again."
"Me too."
