Geraldine

At forty-five, Geraldine had grown weary of the endless swipe-right disappointments of dating apps, where profiles promised depth but delivered shallow encounters with men who fumbled through life as clumsily as they did conversations. Exasperated by their inexperience and predictable charm, she’d deleted the apps, craving something tangible—a man with the confidence and wisdom only years could carve. Now, she found herself drawn to the dimly lit elegance of hotel bars, where the clink of glasses and murmured conversations held the promise of something real. Perched on a velvet stool, her eyes scanned the room for that rare breed: a man with stories etched in his gaze, who knew how to hold a moment, not just a drink.