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How Dating Landmines Always Put Older Relationships In Trouble

No matter a woman’s age, once she’s single, she throws herself back on the dating scene, looking for a second chance and hoping that men hungry for a relationship are bound to pant after her!

 

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Ore, a single mother of three just got separated from her boyfriend and was now excited at the prospect of what she could meet at a party we recently attended.

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“The problem with you is you keep on falling for smoothies,” I warned her as she hopefully scared the male guests. “That’s why your love life is always a disaster.” She was having none of my criticism, however.

 

“Hey, steady on,” she protested, “what gave you the right to read the riot act to me? Why don’t you mind your own business?” We had both arrived too early at the garden party organized by another friend to celebrate her 45th birthday, and the new job she just landed; with this new apartment thrown in that boasted an impressive garden.

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She’s always been a go-getter and a few of her friends were envious of her recent success – they were bound to show up soon out of curiosity. And she was ready for them. Apart from the caterer’s tables bulging under the display of mouth-watering dishes, the barbecue billowed with the smoke from spitting roasting assortment of meat.

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Suddenly, I noticed this good-looking man sneaking interested glances at Ore as he chatted with our hostess’ latest squeeze:nudged my friend and she snorted, rolling her eyes in mock horror. “Here we gO” again,” she groaned. All of a sudden, Alex, the host, left his friend and came over for a chat.

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‘By the way, do you have your mobile with you?’ he asked. ‘Could I quickly use it to check if the photographer is on his way?’ Ore gave the phone to him and he fiddled with it for a while. Thinking he found this latest acquisition a bit complicated, she offered to help but he’d already got the hang of it.

Mr. Good-looks later joined us and we chatted as if we’d known him for years. Gradually, the garden got filled up and the party looked set to be a blast. I was a bit disappointed with some of the men though. A number of them were balding with pot bellies hanging over their trendy trousers and the ones in native gears looked as if they’d slept ion them before dashing to the party.

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“What can I get you ladies?” Mr. Good-looks offered ‘Champagne,’ Ore told him haughtily. Better to know the type of babe he was toying with. He didn’t bat an eye-lid and within minutes, bottles of well-chilled champagne with two flutes were plopped on our table. He left after a decent interval and we got on with enjoying the evening. It was a good party – shame about Mr. Good-looks leaving our table and giving us friendly nods from time to time.

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