Sixty six, retired, and time is the one thing I have plenty of

I was in an arrangement for fourteen years with a woman who died six years ago. I am not going to write about that here beyond saying it, because it is the first question anybody asks and I would rather answer it once, in print, than in every conversation.

Sixty six, retired eighteen months, living in a small town on the line with a garden that takes more of my week than it should. Twenty years in this altogether, all of it with one person, which means I have deep experience of exactly one dynamic and no idea how anybody else runs theirs.

What I want, and I am aware this is unusual, is to write to somebody for a long time. Months. Letters rather than messages, if she likes that sort of thing. I am in no hurry whatsoever and I have nothing else pressing. If it became something in person I would be delighted; if it stayed a correspondence I would still count it as worth having.

Beyond that: structure, tasks, being useful. I can cook properly, I can drive, I can turn my hand to most things in a house, and I have an entirely free diary.

I do not want to be somebody's first experiment and I do not want to be treated as a curiosity because of my age, which happens on this board more than anybody admits. I would also rather not be asked whether I am looking for a replacement. I am not. I am looking for something else.