Tying the Knot for the First Time at 55…

First time I married at fiftyfive

Its been five years since we tied the knot. Im sixty now, my husband is sixtyfive. No surprise that I walked down the aisle at fiftyfive; in todays world anything can happen. Whats astonishing is that its both of our first marriages.

Believe me, I never intended to get married at all. Back when I was barely twenty, the man I adored, Graham, abandoned me while I was five months pregnant. At first I thought Id end it all, but then I pulled myself together and swore Id never set foot in a wedding dress again. I didnt want another scoundrel, one who would bolt at the first chance.

I kept my word. My daughter grew up, married, had grandchildren, and I stubborn as a mule trudged through a solitary life. I might have said men werent interested in me, but my temperament is headstrong: once I decide on something, I see it through. Loneliness turned me into a roughedged, unattractive old lady.

Fate, however, is a fickle dame, and Im about to tell you how a single man managed to pull me under the veil.

When I retired, like most pensioners I turned to gardening. My parents had left me a modest cottage with a plot in the Kent countryside. Id catch the train from London a journey just over an hour and with a crossword puzzle magazine in hand the time flew. One morning, at a small halt, a couple and a diminutive elderly gentleman squeezed onto the carriage beside me.

At first everyone was silent, then I heard a hushed voice from the woman beside me.

Graham, lets stop by the kids, lend a hand, she whispered. Youre their father, after all.

The clatter of the railway drowned out her husbands booming reply.

Whats the use, love? Do you expect me to grovel on my knees for those idiots?

What followed was a tirade aimed at the wife and children that made my eyes drift to the pair opposite me. My gaze landed on an angry, shouting face, and I froze. It was Graham the very same Graham whod left me pregnant years ago. Time hadnt softened him; his features were creased with age and spite, his bulk still as hed been in his youth. He didnt recognise me, but catching my stare he barked, What are you staring at? Move your eyes or Ill punch you!

I was rooted to the seat; my limbs wouldnt move, either from shock or terror. Then something remarkable happened. The tiny old gentleman across the aisle rose decisively, placed himself between me and Graham, and in a firm, confident voice said, If you keep insulting women, youll have to answer to me. A man who talks to women like that is rubbish. Ill break you like a twig!

My heart thumped in my throat. A twig? Graham snapped his fingers, as if to crush it.

I was ready to defend my new protector when Graham humped his shoulders, muttered something unintelligible, and the whole scene dissolved. It became clear that this blustering hero only had the gall to roar in front of women; faced with a genuine, brave man he wilted. And all those years Id blamed myself for my misfortunes seemed suddenly absurd. Tears welled up, the whole thing unfolding in a flash, like a film where thirty years pass in a single minute.

Graham and his wife left at the next stop, and I wept, feeling hollow and disgusted. The man beside me smiled and said, Even tears wont blemish your lovely face. He no longer seemed a petty fellow; he was a sturdy, courageous man. His name was Arthur Bennett, a retired army officer.

Thats how I met my future lateinlife husband. For the first time in decades I felt a yearning to be married, to be loved as a woman.

And so it happened.

Arthur and I are very happy. Life does place things wisely, no matter your age. Even the autumn of life can be filled with love and joy.