BEL MOONEY: Can I cure loneliness by selling up to be near my new love?

/li> DEAR BEL,Can you help with a big decision? I am a 76-year-old widow.  Four years ago I met Alan through a dating site. He lives  25 miles away.

We had a good relationship but experienced some problems and split up twice, getting back together again each time.

We now love each other very much. He comes and stays with me for two to three days, then returns home.

He’s 80 and has a married son living nearby, and a very good relationship with two daughters. He’s well known in his home-town for work reasons and  hobbies, so his roots are deep.

'What if something happens to Alan and I am left in a strange town with no one I know?'

My daughter lives 70 miles away and I do not see her, or my grandchildren, that often.

My life is quite lonely. I have ‘friends’, but do not see them very much — the fault being mainly mine, as I am not good at social contact.

I suggested to Alan that perhaps I should move to his town. He loved the idea. The suggestion of both of us selling up and living together, however, did not seem an option to him. He  loves his home.

My daughter was against me moving and said I was doing all the giving. After all, we were only 25 miles apart.

But at 25 miles one can’t pop in and out! Or do things on the spur of the moment.

So, I put my bungalow on the market and within a week had a cash offer. I found a lovely bungalow near Alan. Everything seemed perfect, but then I got cold feet and backed out.

I love my home, but I sit in it on my own for a lot of the time.  Alan and I could have a lovely  time together.

His family would include me in their family gatherings. So-called friends do not want me to go, but I rarely see them.

I’ve been very ill lately and felt more isolated than ever. My daughter rang up twice, but  that’s all. 

Alan rings twice a day to check on me. He says it’s my decision, and so it is. Part of me would like to go, part of me is terrified.

What if something happens to Alan and I am left in a strange town with no one I know? On the other hand, we could have such a good time together.

Perhaps you being an outsider could help me make a decision. At my age, do I move away from all I know to somewhere I don’t particularly like?

I look round my lovely bungalow and the garden, just how I like it. But I am on my own. I know I could make another good home and garden, so what stops me?JEAN

What stops you is perfectly understandable caution, which may well represent the wisest part of yourself.

Interestingly, I suspect my response to this letter would have been slightly different six years ago. Then I might have counselled ‘go for it!’ — because we only have one life and so any chance of happiness must be seized.

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‘Row towards the rapids!’ That’s the message of a poem called West Wind by one of my favourite writers, Mary Oliver. But these days I am not  sure.

Many letters in my postbag  also show how impulsiveness can lead to regrets.

Before you make your decision, you have to examine your life as it stands.

If you fail to do this, you will be blundering into the unknown with no self-knowledge, which is as dangerous as walking along a cliff edge wearing blinkers.

Three things in your letter bother me. The first is your self-confessed inability to form real relationships with your peers.

You accept the blame for the poor quality of your friendships —  and because of that, to dismiss these friends as ‘so-called’ seems very  unfair.

Because you embarked on the challenge of internet dating at the age of 72, I find myself wondering whether you might have always  been one of those women who  values herself mainly through relationships with men.

When you were young, did you drop your friends as soon as you had a boyfriend? Many women are like that, and thus deprive themselves of the network of support female friends provide. Which is a shame.

I feel you should think about why you have not done more to establish friendships, then ask yourself why this would change when the  friends are Alan’s.

Then, it bothers me that your attitude to your daughter and grandchildren seems very cool. Is there a reason? I wish I knew more.

You were/are willing to throw everything up for a man devoted to his own family, and I fear that his loving ties might cause you some jealousy in the end, since you’ve not been able to forge a similarly close relationship with your own flesh  and blood.

I think you need to consider whether Alan’s family will really welcome a woman who is, in fact, rather remote, as you make yourself sound. Are you prepared to work on that reserve?

Thirdly, I feel slightly concerned that (as your daughter pointed out) you are the one prepared to make the sacrifices. If Alan were saying, ‘I love you, come and live with me and let me take care of you,’ then I might advise throwing caution to the wind and selling up.

But he’s not saying that. He is obviously fond of you, but not fond enough to save you the trouble of establishing a whole new home and garden, all by yourself, having bid farewell to the place you love.

I’m not saying you should entirely rule out the prospect of moving. But, in your situation, I would expect something more from the man, and also something more from myself.

I reckon I’d keep my independence but work on the status quo order to make it richer, rather than chucking it all up.

You can still enjoy his visits, and spend time staying with him, too — without your relationship becoming stale. Don’t you think that this is the safer option?

  My daughter-in-law is rude and ungrateful

DEAR BEL,We have a great relationship with three of our daughters-in-law.

The other one is university-educated, has a good (part-time) job, beautiful house and loving, easy-going husband. 

I’m in my late 60s, my husband is much older and we babysit at least once a week while she’s at work. I drive a 40-mile round trip, leaving home before 7.30am to collect the children.

We gladly look after the toddler and baby all day as we adore them.

Occasionally we keep one overnight to give the parents a break.

We love buying them clothes or books, too.

This girl never acknowledges anything we buy, nor does she ever thank us for babysitting.

There’s no contact unless she needs something — when she gets our son to ask. It’s as if we are just not on her radar at all.

No, ‘Have a nice holiday’ before we left nor a, ‘Did you have a nice holiday?’ on our return. This from someone who texts friends at the table while we’re eating.

Yesterday came the final straw. I drove up through heavy traffic to collect the children, knocked on the door and walked in.

She was shoving them into their coats and didn’t even lift her head to look at me, did not say a word and only when I said ‘Hello’ did she reply.

At my car she kissed them both and turned and walked back to the house without even speaking to me.

It’s doing my head in to be treated in such a manner. I asked my son later whether she was OK and he looked puzzled and said she was probably just dashing to work. But she wasn’t.

I’m tired of making excuses for her rudeness. So what to do? We’ve always tried to be kind and kiss and hug when she comes to our home. We helped them out financially when they married, invite them for meals etc.

She lacks social skills and at times I almost feel sorry for her. I hesitate to tackle her and don’t want to upset our son, but should I accept her bad manners? EILEEN

The short, sharp answer is that bad manners should never be accepted.

Yet within the complicated dynamics of family life short, sharp answers are rarely helpful, as they can lead to some permanent rifts.

In your longer letter you tell me that this daughter-in-law was ‘completely over-indulged by her mother,’ and cite as evidence that when out for coffee or lunch she never offers to pay but always lets others treat her.

You don't really like your daughter-in-law very much at all but you love her children, and it's that contact which needs to be preserved at all costs. Posed by models

This certainly sounds like somebody with a strong sense of entitlement. Is it too late to change her? My gut instinct says probably it is.

Good manners need to be taught in childhood. Readers with young children please note! When you insist on ‘please,’ ‘thank you,’ and ‘may I?’, as well as refusing to let children rudely interrupt and so on, you are not being fussy — you are teaching precious lessons about co-existing with others.

Indulging children and letting them feel they rule the roost is, in my opinion, a form of emotional negligence. Unfortunately there’s a lot of it about.

Your (annoyingly) easy-going son would not intervene, even if you were to ask — and to ask would surely cause trouble. If you were to ‘tackle’ her about her rudeness… well, yes, it would surely make things worse.

You don’t really like her very much at all but you love her children, and it’s that contact which needs to be preserved at all costs.

So I’m afraid you have to breathe deep and easy, confident that you hold the moral high ground, and meet her careless discourtesy with extra-bright good manners of your own.

Give yourself an Oscar for this — because I honestly don’t see what alternative you have.

But I also think you need to have a pleasant ‘meeting’ with this couple to discuss your level of childcare, perhaps on the grounds of your undoubted tiredness.

Maybe if she suddenly thinks your help might be withdrawn she will appreciate it more. 

It is a very good sign that you can find it in your heart to feel almost sorry for a young woman who has never been taught to respond to others with interest, generosity  and gratitude. 

Perhaps you can see your relationship with her children as being all the more precious in that you will be able to help them become better people.

  And finally... Eavesdrop to find real tenderness

Do you ever hear a snatch of conversation and wonder about the real story behind the words? It happened to me many years ago, sitting in a BBC canteen, hearing the people at the next table.

I went on to turn the fragment of local drama about a doctor who had committed suicide (to his widow’s fury) into my second novel The Anderson Question (newly available as an ebook).

Does this mean that writers are ruthless predators? In some ways — yes. I can’t sit on the Tube without listening, and sometimes making a note. I never read; I watch.

TROUBLED? WRITE TO BEL

Bel answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week.

Write to: Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5TT, or e-mail bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk.

A pseudonym will be used if you wish.

Bel reads all letters, but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.

Having your eyes and ears open is an essential part of being human, which is why I hate to see people endlessly plugged into iPods or  with their eyes fixed on mobile phones.

The other day I was  walking into the Royal United Hospital in Bath, where my mother was a patient for nearly two weeks.

A couple of women passed me, deep in conversation. All I heard was: ‘Well, you don’t expect your children to go before you, do you?’

In that second I was reminded of surely the greatest tragedy — the death of a child.

Charities like the Child Death Helpline and the Compassionate Friends help those thus afflicted, remembering that if a man dies at the age of 50 his grieving parents have still lost their child.

Those few words were heavy with universal sorrow, and I bowed my head.

Then there’s the delight of the unexpected. Waiting for the ward door to open for visiting time, I stood next to a couple of tough-looking young guys with tattoos, piercings — the works.

One whispered to the other: ‘We’re gonna have to take good care of him.’

That was sweet and gentle enough; charmed, I imagined they were talking about an old dad.

But when we entered the long ward,  there at the men’s end, they sat down softly beside their slumbering mate. Or was he a brother?

No matter — they’d given me a glimpse of tenderness to cheer the day.