Hilary had fibbed about her real age to a man online – and now he wanted to meet her
Ginny Swart
It was just a little white lie, Liz, but I never imagined we’d ever meet face to face! Why on earth did I tell him I was 35?’Hilary hated to be caught out like this.
For over a year, she’d enjoyed chatting on an internet gardening site with Zac, a witty, 30-something aeronautical engineer who was passionate about horticulture. He had a lot of tips when it came to making compost and, from the first time they’d exchanged advice about aphids, they’d clicked.
Very soon their conversation had branched out to cover just about every topic under the sun, and now they met online every day to chat.
‘But things have started to get serious,’ Hilary said to Liz. ‘I’ve got to face the fact that he’s 15 years younger than I am!’
‘Well, you said he was funny and well read, and interested in everything going on in the world,’ Liz replied. ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to keep writing.’
‘Now he tells me he lives 10 miles away, and wants to meet for a meal at that pasta restaurant on Saturday. What can I do?’ She looked at Liz in despair. ‘He’ll be horrified when he sees how old I really am.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Liz staunchly. ‘You look good for your age. Why not come to the salon tomorrow and I’ll give you a whole new look. New hairstyle, super facial, everything. And we’ll go shopping for a killer dress. In the candlelight, he’ll be so knocked out by your charm he won’t notice any age difference.’
‘You really think so?’ Hilary was dubious. She didn’t want to be seen as – what did they call it – a cougar.
Liz was her best friend but her style could be a bit way out sometimes, experimenting with green streaks in her hair and silver nail polish.
Even so, Hilary was tempted. She’d love to meet Zac and see if there was a real connection between them. And it was true, she’d taken care of her figure and didn’t look much older than 40. OK, maybe 45. In fact, her office colleagues couldn’t believe she’d celebrated her 51st birthday the month before.
Late Saturday afternoon, Liz closed her salon doors and gave her undivided attention to Hilary.
‘A pixie cut, I think,’ she said. ‘And a few golden streaks. And while those are setting, I’ll do a total skin exfoliation before I start the facial.’
‘I’m having second thoughts about the dress I bought,’ muttere
