I’m 53, but fancy a woman who’s 33

DEAR BEL, I AM a 53-year-old service professional, a father of two wonderful adult children and now well positioned in life.

I raised them both essentially on my own, as a result of their mother leaving the home early in our marriage to pursue what excited her.

I remarried — but seven years into that failed ten-year marriage, my second wife became addicted to the prescription drug Xanax and alcohol.

The family fell victim to a relentless series of rages, and after three years of torment, four stints in rehab and two arrests, I called it quits.

Fast-forward three years. Developing programmes in the private sector, I met a wonderful woman who is 20 years my junior.

I am well aware of the challenge the age gap represents — in fact, my reluctance to pursue a relationship with her is because of this. I cringe to think that 30 years down the road I would be, God willing, a very old man, while she would still be a relatively young woman.

She is not married, but is involved in a relationship.

Given my experiences, I am reluctant to be a wedge between them. But there is a magnetism between us that’s impossible to ignore. I enjoy being close to her and her to me. We’ve conversed for hours on end. We laugh. We even considered going out to see a show, but I have purposely shelved it.

Enjoying a show would not be a declaration of love, but I can’t get her out of my mind.

I’m at the crossroads: shall I make a stand and discuss how I feel, or not? If she continues her relationship, should I not just abandon this? What’s wrong with me?

DANIEL-ACROSS-THE-POND

YOu write from the u.S. — testimony of the enormous reach of Mail Online. And, of course, timeless human problems know no borders. In the 14th century, Chaucer satirised ‘January-May’ marriages — but it was very common for young women to be paired off with much older men, rarely having a choice in the matter. (This is also the case in certain cultures today.)

The author of The Canterbury Tales apparently thought it inevitable that a pretty girl hitched to a grizzled old geezer would sneak off to canoodle with a hot young clerk. As you do.

It’s easy to be as cynical as Chaucer and poke fun, but there is no reason why a 20-year age gap should matter one jot.

Imagine if we had no birth certificates, but relied instead on personality and interests to guess age . . . why, the 17-year gap between my younger husband and I would disappear in a trice.

I knew a woman who was blissfully married to a man 30 years her senior, had two children with him, and was truly inconsolable at his loss — never looking at another man.

One of my favourite poems is a short lyric by an overlooked genius called A. S. J. Tessimond. Called Age it begins, ‘Do men grow wholly old . . .?’ The answer is, of course, that they do not, that ‘the all-too-youthful heart’ goes on ‘grieving’ — because it is always longing for love.

So my instinct tells me that you shouldn’t obsess about the age gap. Surely it’s more important to work out the nature of the emotional baggage you carry due to two failed marriages?

With a terrific career (you gave details) you are clearly intelligent and engaged with the world, yet surely you can’t have endured the stress of those two disastrous marriages without being scarred? This is something to think about.

You say the lady is involved with someone else, but not how serious and/or lengthy that relationship seems to be. Since you and she talk so much, you must have an inkling, and she must know about your past, too.

So isn’t the way forward to carry on as you are, being great friends drawn together, sharing talk and laughter and just see where it goes? What would be the harm in going to a show together?

Honestly, I don’t see why you shouldn’t have a shot at being happy, just don’t push the friendship too far at this stage.

Who knows what might happen in 2017 — for any of us?