I started at fifty and I am neither a beginner nor an elder

I started this at fifty, after a divorce, having spent about twenty five years knowing I wanted to and doing nothing. Five years later I am moderately competent and completely uncategorisable, because everybody in a room reads my age and assumes I have been doing it since the eighties.

Fifty five, Brooklyn. The assumption is not flattering, it is awkward. People defer to me about things I do not know. Twice I have been asked for an opinion in a way that made it obvious I was expected to have one, and both times the honest answer was that I had been doing this for less time than the person asking.

What I want is a partner who takes me at the stage I am actually at. Five years of steady practice, one partnership of three years that ended when she moved for work, and a great many things I have not tried.

I am not in a hurry about anything and I am not embarrassed. Starting late has one substantial advantage, which is that I came to it as an adult with no particular need to impress anybody and no illusions about my own patience. What I want is regular, ordinary and long. I am home most evenings. I cook. I would like somebody in the kitchen afterwards.

Not looking for anybody who wants a mentor, since I am not one. Not looking for someone who wants to hear about the marriage. And not looking to be told it is never too late, which is true and has been said to me enough.