His name is Ian. I use the term ‘is’ and not ‘was’ because he is still very much a part of my life as we both belong to the same classic car group and that is how I met him.
I still remember the first time I saw him. A few years older than me, balding on top, quiet and a bit shy. He was sitting by himself in our meeting room and before the proceedings started, I went over to say hello and to make him feel welcome, as I had been a member for a few years already and I liked to make new people feel comfortable and part of the group. We chit chatted for a bit and I thought what a nice man he was. I then saw the wedding ring and felt bad, for after three long years without even a coffee date, I was lonely, and I thought he might be a potential date.
We became friends as we attended many car shows with the club and his wife had zero interest in the hobby. For the first summer I knew him, he was kind and friendly, and would compliment me each time he saw me pull in to a show, as I was a very nervous driver and had just started to learn how to maneuver my late father’s large classic car around the busy city streets. I was terrified of the highway though, as my husband had always driven the fast roads and I had no highway experience at all.
Occasionally we would sit together at shows and I would show him the paper map I kept in the car, all the new roads I had travelled were highlighted in yellow. He took an interest in my progress and each week I looked forward to showing him the latest additions on the map.
I was happy to have someone care about me, even if it was just driving to a show, and I felt comfortable sharing my achievements and also my fears with him.
When the summer car season ended I was crushed, for I knew I would only see him once a month at the meetings. He is a hobby woodworker, so I devised a plan to fit in a few extra visits with him during the lonely winter months and he was happy to oblige…..
The Betrayed Widow 