The Divorcee and the Confirmed Bachelor
You often find when you're dating in your forties that men are one of the above. When you meet the divorcee, more often than not, he's come out of a long marriage and has children who are almost ready to fly the nest. The divorcee is the one who likes lots and lots of sex - you're almost guaranteed he's not been having much in that department as he and his wife had pretty much gone off each other before the inevitable break up. Only embark on this relationship if your libido is still going strong. His ego will need a big fat boost.
The divorcee by default morphs into Kevin the Teenager. After many, many, long years of being nagged to pick up his undies from the bedroom floor he will now be rebelling like a petulant child. My advice is not to visit the divorcee in his man cave until you have fallen in love with him. Too early going back to his place will result in an instant dumping. The cave hides (not particularly well) the horrors of newly found singledom.
Approach your visits like you would if you were prepping for a house move. Visit at a variety of times of day to get a real feel for him before committing to the next stage, because in the darkness lurks a myriad of objet d'art that may well not be to your own taste. After separation the divorcee surrounds himself with titillating statues that his wife would never allow him to bring into the house. If it's carved out of wood it's OK to surround yourself with boobies. It's art! The toilet looks completely different in natural light, (looks pretty bad in artificial light) what could have been forgiven as a trick of the light in the evening is glaringly obviously skid marks in the morning.
Never, ever, turn up at his place without prior warning. Things could be a whole lot worse. The condom packet that's fallen out of his bag from a business trip where he thought he might get lucky. The bedding for which there really are no words. The food encrusted dishes that need sterilising before they can be used anywhere near you. The underpants that remarkably resemble the toilet pan. The stack of porn under the bed. The list goes on. If the divorcee doesn't appeal, then maybe the confirmed bachelor will.
...or maybe not...
By 'confirmed' bachelor I mean the one who has made a conscious decision never to marry or live with a partner. Unlike the divorcee he is usually pretty tidy and likes things 'just so'. His place could be mistaken for a hospital ward with its light coloured furniture and white rugs that will never see the pitter patter of tiny muddy wellies. Salvador Dali adorns the walls and his whiskey fills a cut glass decanter. Get the picture?
In contrast to the divorcee all this sanitisation might seem appealing. But when you have to remove your shoes (that smell like you've done a week on the farm) on entry as he hands you a glass of red wine, and you spot the white rugs and know what will happen, it becomes less appealing as every second passes. The bachelor is a whizz with the coasters, they seem to appear from nowhere and are under your glass before you've even thought about lifting it to your lips. Now that's what I call magic.
Sex with the bachelor is also very different to sex with the divorcee. Where the divorcee bangs away like an over excited, over eager and overgrown schoolboy, the bachelor takes his time. After all you're not the first young lady to adorn his Egyptian cotton bedsheets. He takes his time because he is busily removing and folding his clothes and placing them very carefully, and precisely, on the chaise lounge. You almost expect him to whip out a ruler from wherever he hides his coasters.
The high level of anxiety that spending time in the palace of the bachelor (when you know you will morph into the clumsy cluts you know you can be) is really not worth it. After the first visit you know you can't ever invite him back to your quirky, over crowded, dusty, dark sanctuary. Pursuing the relationship becomes pointless as you realise maybe living alone is not solely his decision after all.
Go home, kick off your Doctor Martens, eat houmous, and dream of finding a cross between Mr Darcy (Pride & Prejudice) and Mr Delaney (Tom Hardy in Taboo).