Tag: Relationships

Happily ever after?

Various images of Emma Charlesworth as well as Kelsey Parker and Bridget Jones

I vividly remember sitting in my back garden with some friends not long after my husband had died and making the proclamation that I would never be in another relationship. That I would never even look for someone new because I didn’t want to go through the pain I was going through again. That I’d be far better off shutting myself off to any future hurt or pain than risk it. I even went so far as to make a couple of bets with another friend of mine. 1) That I would never get remarried. 2) That I would never be married to a 50-year-old. The latter because it had been a running joke for many years that when my late husband turned 50, I was going to trade him in for a younger model because to be married to a 50-year-old would make me old and I didn’t want that (there was almost a seven-year age gap between us.)

But while these bets were made at a very different stage of my grief to where I am now, the more time that has passed, the more I’m even more adamant that I’m going to be taking home the winnings from them. Because I genuinely can’t see me getting remarried. This isn’t a woe is me statement, this isn’t me feeling sorry for myself or shutting myself down to the concept, it’s because as things stand right now, I simply don’t ever want to. It’s a conscious choice. I don’t even think I want a relationship in the traditional sense. Don’t get me wrong, I have no idea what the future holds and how my opinion might change, after all, I don’t tend to plan for the future anymore. I can only go on how I feel at a particular point in time. And how I have felt since becoming a widow.

Besides. The perfect man who would fit my endless list of requirements doesn’t exist. Well, I mean he does, but Jason Donovan is actually already married to a very lovely woman. Or he’s fictional, yes, I did fall a little bit in love with Adam Brody when I binged watched Nobody Wants This. But while others would say I’m using levity to mask how I’m truly feeling, I am in a way, I just don’t even know what I’d call what it is that would be perfect for me. Is it companionship? Is it a relationship? Is it a friend with benefits? Is it a situation-ship? Is it a different term that I doubt my mum or daughter would appreciate me saying? Is it none of these? This is the problem. Aside from a few months in 2003, the last time before being widowed that I was not in a serious relationship was 1999. I was 18 years old and not really aware of any of these things. I’m sure they’ve just developed over time as more and more people try to grasp, and move away from the traditional marriage, 2.4 children and dog!

I also hadn’t envisaged when my late husband and I became a couple in 1999 and when I got married at the age of 24, that by the time I was 40, my relationship status and sex life (or lack thereof) would be a topic for discussion. But it has been. I’ve been asked if I miss it. I’ve been asked why I’m not putting myself out there again. I’ve been told that my late husband would want me to be happy and not on my own. I’ve been asked if I’m letting my daughter run my life. Whether I’m sacrificing my own happiness, wants and needs to put her first. I’ve been asked if it’s simply because I’m just too scared of letting someone in. And these questions aren’t always just from close family or friends. It always takes me back a bit what people think it’s acceptable to ask. And while I have tasked my eldest godson with finding me a handsome millionaire when he’s at work, the reality is that even a handsome millionaire might struggle to convince me it’s a good idea to let someone in right now. Life has changed me. Nearly five years since being widowed, I’ve got into a nice routine with life in general. Life is possibly busier than it was pre-pandemic, I have to juggle a lot more with my daughter and her ambitions, dance lessons etc… and fitting someone into that world just feels like it would be another thing to manage. I like who am I now, who I’ve become since having to navigate and go through all this trauma. Is finding someone and letting them become a part of my world actually worth it?

But more than that. My daughter is my world, and I don’t want someone who thinks they can come in, have a ready-made family and be a father to her. She has a father and while he may no longer be physically on this planet, he is and always will be, her father. She doesn’t need a replacement. I also like the autonomy I have in my life right now. I decide what we do. Where my money goes (although granted, the theatre shows that my daughter often hints at take a chunk of that!) I decide where we go on holiday. I choose how to decorate our house. I don’t have to answer to or be accountable to anyone. I have, to a certain extent, become incredibly selfish over the past five years. My daughter is obviously my priority and always will be, but the autonomy that my life gives me works for me. I enjoy it.

I wonder if there’ll be people reading this thinking I’m lying and putting on a front. People thinking I’m just stuck in my grief. People thinking I no longer miss my husband and appear to be living my best life. People querying whether I ever loved him if I’m saying I enjoy the autonomy I now have. People thinking “good for her.” Because this is also something that I have become painfully aware of over the last five years. People in my situation are judged. We can’t do right for doing wrong. We meet someone in what is perceived to be too short a timeframe from the death of a partner and we’re moving on “too quickly.” We don’t meet someone new and we’re “stuck in grief.” We’re in a relationship with someone who is a different gender to the partner who died and “we’re going through a phase.” I could go on, but you get the picture. The judgement and opinions from other people are constant. And quite frankly, it’s beyond annoying. Until you have lived an hour, day, week, month or year in the life that we now lead, you really, really can’t comment or judge. No matter how well meaning you are.

I realise I sound like I’m standing very high on a soapbox, but I was reminded of these viewpoints by something I witnessed in the public eye recently. Kelsey Parker, the widow of The Wanted star Tom Parker, announced her pregnancy with her new partner. I met Kelsey as part of her documentary alongside some other Widowed and Young members and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that she loved Tom and always will. That she was grieving. That she was in immense pain. But despite this, she is now moving forwards with her life as so many people who are widowed young do. I’m so incredibly pleased for her, she absolutely deserves happiness. Yet. The vitriol that was directed her way on social media was nothing short of despicable. Whatever happened to being kind? These comments made by people in their armchairs and hiding behind social media are despicable. Anyone who sends hurtful messages or comments via social media is abhorrent in my opinion. There is simply no need for it. And it made me think back to when Simon Thomas, the Sky Sports presenter announced he was getting re-married after the tragic death of his wife and subsequently having more children. The timeframes between him and Kelsey are similar, yet while I might be wrong, I don’t recollect the same types of comments being directed at him. Maybe I wasn’t as acutely aware of widowhood at the time, but it does make me wonder. Are women who are widowed perceived differently to men? Are they “meant” to behave differently? Is the expectation that women should simply wear black and never leave their house again? Be devoid of love and happiness forever more?

The timing of all these comments being directed to Kelsey feels even more ironic and pertinent given the release of the latest Bridget Jones film, Mad About The Boy. I’m not going to post any spoilers, but what you can glean from the trailers is that Bridget has been widowed, is the mother to two small children and hasn’t been in a relationship or had sex in just over four years. Yet in comparison to the comments directed to Kelsey, how many people will be sitting in cinemas, willing Bridget to meet someone and be happy? It’s not one rule for fictional characters and one rule for real people. Everyone in life deserves the chance to experience happiness.

And this brings me onto my next soapbox point. The fictional depiction of young widows or widowers and their need to be loved to be happy. How many of you have sat and watched a Christmas movie where the lead character has lost their partner and by the end of the movie they’re fulfilled because they’re living happily ever after with a new partner? I’m not by any stretch of the imagination saying this doesn’t happen and isn’t what some people in real life do, but I’m yet to find a movie where the lead character accepts where they’re at, lives their life to their fullest and is a success without meeting someone new (if anyone reading this is aware of a movie that does this, please do let me know). 

It’s why I also bristle at the term Chapter 2 to describe a new relationship post widowhood. I believe it lessens who we are as individuals. Again, maybe I look at things too pragmatically, but my life has been made up of many, many chapters. I don’t view my late husband as my Chapter 1. He is a part of my story, but he wasn’t the first part of it. A new chapter began the day he was admitted to ICU. Another one began the day he died. I sometimes actually feel I’m currently living in Chapter 752 of my life or that the screenwriters in charge of my life are seeing just how much they can push it in season five before it becomes laughable. But that’s ok. It’s what life is. Other people don’t think like I do and are a fan of the term Chapter 2. That’s their prerogative, I’d hate it if everyone agreed with me, it’s not what life is about. We all have to go about life in a way that works for us and with our own views. It’s actually what makes the world go round.

While I appreciate this might be the most opinionated blog I’ve posted in a while, it’s not the first time I’ve written about this topic. I’m not completely devoid of emotion and needs. The first time was about my very short-lived experience on a dating app. The last time was in 2023 when I also discussed the topic of widow’s fire. Yet I’m also selfishly glad that I’ve been able to write this piece. For the first time in a long time, it was nice to be able to sit and write. My headspace over the last few months hasn’t been great, I’ve had so very much to process. I’ve found it difficult to not really be able to talk about it, to have to navigate and work through it by myself. I’ve needed to do this for me but now I can think straight again. I’ve given myself the time and space I’ve needed. Despite capitulating at the end of October last year, I’m getting there. I’m proud of me. The irony is that I’m probably at a point in my life where I’m now the truest and strongest version of me I’ve ever been. I’d no doubt be quite a catch for that handsome millionaire or perfect man should he appear. I just don’t know if I want to be caught. Yet.

And what is that perfect man? Above all else someone I can trust. Trust was never something I had to worry about with my late husband, it was a part of our relationship from the start. It just continued to build over the next two decades. But I’ve seen first-hand the damage and hurt that lies can cause. Learning that even close friends of mine of many years are capable of lying to me has made me sceptical as to whether I could trust someone new. I’d need to scrutinise that millionaire to the nth degree. He’d probably give up before he’d even started!

And then there’s that endless list of requirements too. Someone who wouldn’t encroach on my life as is. Who is happy not having a label for his role in my life. Who accepts I don’t have all the time in the world for him. Who appreciates all I’m juggling and gives me the space to do that and live my life. Who realises I’m a mother first, yet doesn’t have small children (been there, done that!) Who realises just how much my late husband is still a part of my life, always will be and has no issue with me talking about him. Who realises that there may well be a certain amount of judgement directed at him and me. Who could be a sounding board for me at the end of bad day (or a good day) for that matter. Who accepts that he’ll always be second best to a certain Mr Donovan.  Who makes me smile and laugh. Who makes me feel safe. Who makes me feel cared for and looked after yet doesn’t think I need “fixing.” Who I could talk with about films and TV shows. Who makes this 40 something year old not feel as old and knackered, but almost desirable. Someone who despite all the overthinking I do, the baggage I have and the challenges I face, doesn’t want to change me or my life and accepts me for me. In essence, he’d be the Mr Darcy to this Bridget Jones. Someone who could look at me and say “I like you, very much. Just as you are.”

If this sounds like you, then watch this space. Maybe one day, I’ll open that application process. It’ll be rigorous though; I can assure you of that. The amazing squad of girls I have around me will see to that. What is it the Spice Girls said?

“If you wannabe be my lover, you gotta get with my friends.”

It’s been a long time

Various images of Emma with quote from Young, Widowed and Dating

Oh how I’ve debated writing this one. I’ve debated publishing this one. I’ve debated whether this is a part of my story that I want to share. I’ve debated whether it’s a sensible one to write. But the trouble is. This has been whirling around in my head. And when that happens, I know I need to write. And I also doubt that I’m the only one that has gone through, or will go through this…

A while back, I decided to join a dating app. I didn’t really know why at that time. But it felt like something I needed to try. I didn’t even know what I really wanted to come out of it. I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted a relationship. I wasn’t really sure anyone would want me and all my baggage. Let’s face it, I come with a lot! And around the same time I randomly heard a Bruce Springsteen song (Secret Garden) that I hadn’t heard for years. There’s a couple of lines in it that resonated:

“She’ll let you into the parts of herself

That’ll bring you down.

She’ll let you in her heart

If you got a hammer and a vice.”

Yup. That was my worry. Admit to the dead husband and I’d bring anyone that was interested in me down. And the fear of being hurt and losing someone again makes me feel as though my heart is impenetrable without serious trying on their part. God help anyone that made the mistake of liking me! But most importantly, whatever was to come of this, I didn’t want anything that would throw me and my daughter off kilter. I knew that if anything was to come of this, it would need to be handled exceptionally carefully. But something inside of me said I needed to experiment and try a dating app.

I barely told anyone. I didn’t want any judgement. I didn’t want any pressure. I didn’t want people asking how it was going. I didn’t want any expectations. I didn’t want my mum rushing out and buying a hat! This was, quite simply, something I needed to do for me. For the first time in a very long time, I was 100% selfish. I did something that was completely and utterly for me. It was, in essence, my secret and a gift to myself.

I’m not going to lie. It felt absolutely alien to me. Choose your best photos. Sell yourself in a paragraph. Give people a brief overview of yourself by answering some questions. I had never had to do this before. I’d known Mr C for nearly three years before we started dating. I didn’t have to sell myself to him in a paragraph, a natural connection formed over time. And ultimately, that’s why I was sceptical about being on an app. I just didn’t think you could feel an attraction or form a connection with someone without actually knowing them. How on earth could that happen?

But more than that. I didn’t really like the person that I was turning into from being on it. I felt I was becoming such a shallow, ruthless person. I’d reject people based on looks, their height, whether they were vaccinated, if they said that COVID-19 was a hoax, if they were called Charlie or Stuart, if they said they wanted no drama, poor grammar (yes, honestly!), fetish requirements (opened my eyes a little though!) and acronyms that I didn’t understand (you know you’ve been out of the dating scene for a long time when you’re having to Google what people are putting in their profile because you haven’t got a clue what they’re saying).

However. I did send some messages to people that passed the ruthless test. The majority of them didn’t respond however. Which, of course, does wonders for your self esteem. A couple did. Some were literally laughable with how forward they were. Definite eye rolls from me at some of the messages. There were a few nice chats but that was it. “Ok,” I thought, “I’m capable of doing this, I’m capable of having a message conversation with someone I’ve never met. Get me.” But the first time someone asked if he could ring me, I made up an excuse. Shut that down straight away. Because, as I’ve said, I didn’t really think this was what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted to come of this.

And then. A guy responded to one of my messages. He seemed “normal.” We started messaging. Just a few a day to start with, but then they gradually started to increase. Hmmmm. This wasn’t meant to happen. He was completely and utterly on my wavelength. We seemed to have a huge amount in common. We discussed anything and everything. He made me smile, he made me laugh and I found myself looking forward to the little notification that I had a message. Seriously. What was happening? This wasn’t on the plan (probably because I didn’t laminate it). I wasn’t meant to like someone. This didn’t happen on dating apps. He ended up invariably being the last person I messaged before I went to sleep and the first person I messaged when I woke up. Hmmmm.

The very few people who knew about this encouraged me to ask him to meet for coffee. Nope. I batted them away whenever they suggested it. To do that would make this real. To do that would mean I’d have to deal with it in real life. Hiding behind messages was just fine for me. I could be who I wanted to be. I could be Emma. I wasn’t a widow, a mother, a colleague or a friend. I was, quite simply, Emma. It was refreshing. I didn’t want to have to address any elephants in the room about why I was on the app. I just wanted to be me. Not meeting him allowed me to do that.

The messaging went on for just over a month. We didn’t exchange numbers. He didn’t put pressure on me to meet. He was sweet. He seemed genuine. What on earth was the catch? He seemed too good to be too true. And then. One Sunday evening, when I went to send a message, I made a discovery. He’d deleted his profile and vanished. Just like that. It was over. Whatever “it” was.

My stomach dropped. I felt the tears start to come. I felt sick. I’d let my guard down. I’d trusted someone enough to have all these messages covering a wide range of topics. And then, in the blink of an eye, I’d felt like I’d been played for a fool. Of course no-one would seriously be interested in me. How on earth could I have been so stupid?

But. The one emotion that I didn’t feel was anger. I didn’t want to yell about the injustice of it all. I didn’t want to shout at anyone. After the initial feeling of stupidity, I just sort of accepted it. That confused me. And oddly enough, I felt relief. Not hurt. But relief. Again. What was happening? Why wasn’t I feeling what I “should” be feeling? What on earth was going on in my head and my heart now?

I sat and gave it some serious thought. And that’s when it hit me. This was actually the perfect outcome for my first foray into dating again. Because at this point, it just helped crystallise that I probably wasn’t ready for a relationship and all the quagmire that comes with it. The relief was that it wasn’t going anywhere. I wouldn’t have to deal with the where is this going question. All that had happened, was that I’d reached a point in my life where I wanted and needed some flirting, banter, chat and to be made to feel good about myself. I got that from doing this. But why? Why had I needed that?

Again. Serious thought time. When I’d first subscribed to the app and said to my sister I didn’t know why I was doing it, she told me the answer to that was simple. “To prove you can.” And that’s really what this whole experience came down to. I needed to prove something to myself. Rightly or wrongly. For over 20 years, I’d had someone on hand to pay me compliments (admittedly they’d sometimes be backhanded ones, but still), I’d had someone to message on my way home from work, I’d had someone to make me smile, I’d had someone who could make me feel good about myself on those down days. And that person went just as I was approaching my 40s…

Now. I’m not saying I stressed about turning 40. I’m not saying I need validation from a man. Far, far from it. I instil this in my daughter on a very regular basis. “You are enough. You simply need validation from yourself.” But. Let’s be honest. Who doesn’t like to receive compliments? Who doesn’t like being flattered? Who doesn’t enjoy having someone to talk to who you’ve got a connection with? Who doesn’t enjoy a bit of intimacy? Yet, all of a sudden I found myself alone in my 40s, knowing that I had more grey hair, knowing that I had more wrinkles, knowing that I was carrying more weight than I used to and being way too self critical of myself. I was trying to navigate the world alone at a time in my life I should never have been.

Yes, Mr C and I had had those random conversations about if something happened to either of us and us wanting the other to be happy, meet someone else etc… But, when I said “til death do us part” at the age of 24, I didn’t really expect to be facing this dilemma. I expected us to grow old together. I expected to have someone there to pick me up on my down days. To make me feel good about myself when I needed it. I didn’t anticipate what would happen. I didn’t anticipate being a single person and basically being surrounded by couples and happy families. It’s bloody hard work. Seeing people in the throes of new love. Seeing people loved up. Seeing people compliment their partners. Seeing lives move forward as people celebrate their anniversaries and share all the things they love about their other halves. No matter how happy you are for others, that jealous pang hits. You find yourself withdrawing. Because it’s easier to do that than feel alone.

And that’s ultimately why I did this. That’s why I joined the app. My sister was 100% right. Annoyingly. It was, quite simply, to prove that I could. That if I really wanted to, I could sell myself. I could find someone to connect with. I could find someone who would appreciate me. Who would make me feel wanted and desired. Who would make me feel flattered and complimented. But this was also something I was doing as me. As Emma. People weren’t liking me and responding to messages because I was a widow, a mother, a colleague or a crazy Jason fan because I didn’t share any of that in my profile. They were liking Emma. I said when I launched this blog that I was trying to figure out where I was going next. Answering who Emma is the $64 million question. This experience has helped me on that quest and to answer that question.

After that Sunday discovery, I did keep looking at the app. I did send some more messages. But my heart was never really in it. It hadn’t been from the off if I’m perfectly honest. It really wasn’t for me. It wasn’t what I wanted to be doing with my life. I let the paid subscription run out. I didn’t renew it. However, I can’t say I’ll never subscribe again. I can’t say I won’t consider dating. After all, as my daughter forges her own life and becomes more independent of me, I’m going to need someone to talk to. As wonderful as my dog is, he’s not the best at conversation or compliments! And as I know all too well, you never know what life is going to throw at you. Someone could come into my life at any point. I could get swept off my feet tomorrow. And maybe at some point I’d actually be ready to brave that coffee. Or brave being taken out for dinner. I mean, let’s face it, I’m never going to turn down a free meal! And as Rachel, a fellow widow wrote in a brilliant Twitter thread about her requirements, once a month would be enough, (I could literally have written this thread myself).

But for now, I’m content. I’ve done what I needed to do in this new world I’m navigating. I’ve got what I needed. I like the new found confidence and glint in my eye. Yes. Most of that has come from me and all the work and effort I’ve put into me through counselling and looking after myself, but some of it, without a shadow of a doubt, has come from my app man.

And how do I feel about him and the whole episode now? He shockingly hasn’t put me off men for life. I’ll never regret those messages or any of the time I spent in conversation with him. The thought of it still makes me smile. I suspect it always will. I’ll forever be thankful to him. He reminded me how to accept and say thank you for a compliment about me. Not about how brave or strong I am, not about how I’ve coped with what’s happened to me, not about how I’m raising my daughter. But about me. We come back to why I did this, I just needed to be selfish for a bit. But more than that. I’ve said before about believing people come into your lives for a reason. I wholeheartedly believe that this is the case with him.

And the reason? To give me back something I didn’t realise I’d lost. To give me a bit of a confidence boost. To help me realise what I needed and was looking for. To help me appreciate myself again. To help me look at myself through different eyes. Not the eyes of a grieving widow. Not the eyes of a devoted mother. Not the eyes of someone trying to hold down a full time job while also juggling her life.

But through the eyes of someone who can appreciate all she has to offer. Who can appreciate that she deserves more than she gives herself credit for. Who can appreciate all she’s been through and realise she’s right to be proud of herself. Who can realise that the wrinkles and the extra weight are part of her story. They’re something to be proud of. Because they reflect her life. They reflect the fact that she’s still standing and still keeping going despite everything that life has thrown at her. It hit me one day when I took a selfie to send to him. Because I looked at it and didn’t criticise it. I’ve started taking more selfies. I’m less critical of myself now. I can see and like the sparkle in my eyes again. I can look at pictures of me, like them and appreciate myself for the person I am. The person I’m evolving into. The person who is, without question, enough. And ultimately, that’s an incredible gift for him to have given me.