I invited a man to my home for a romantic dinner: exactly at 8 p.m. there was a knock at the door, I opened… and froze at what I saw

My friends said I was crazy when I started paying attention to men again. I’m 54 years old, my husband left me. I just wanted to feel loved and desired again.

That’s when a new man appeared in my life. We were neighbors, sometimes we met in the park. We often talked and gradually grew closer.

One day he asked me out on a date. I decided to host it at my place. I prepared everything beautifully and romantically: candles, dinner, music – just the two of us.

At exactly 8 p.m. there was a knock at the door. I went to open it… and froze at what I saw. 

On the doorstep stood my new man – with no flowers, no gift, not the slightest sign of attention.

– “Are you serious?” I asked, barely believing my eyes.

– “What?” he replied in surprise.

– “Where are the flowers, where’s the attention?”

He smirked:

– “What flowers? I’m not a little boy to be giving out ‘flowers.’”

I sighed and suddenly realized:

– “And I’m not a little girl to be choosing men like you. At my age I don’t need someone who can’t even understand a woman’s worth in small things. I tried, I made everything romantic. You’d better leave… and forget me.”

The door closed, the candles kept burning, and the dinner remained untouched.

The next day I told my friends everything. Some said I had done the right thing, that I deserved more and shouldn’t settle for crumbs. Others insisted I had missed my last chance, that at my age you have to hold on to anyone.

And I sit and wonder: do we really need to fear being alone, if the alternative is betraying ourselves?