HE'S MY LOVER, NOT MY SON!

Dawn Gadsby, 52, doesn't care what anyone says - age is nothing but a number

- KERRY HARDEN AND CANDICE FERNANDEZ

Leaning my elbows on the table, I couldn’t help steal another glance at the cafe door. I was meeting my friend Tom, then 26, after he’d been away in the US for nine months. I bit my lip nervously and ran my fingers through my hair, hoping it looked nice. Tom had been my friend for the past four years, so why did I feel so nervous?

We’d met in April 2020 at a clinic where I worked as a psychotherapist. Tom had joined a group session to help cope with anxiety. As a recovering alcoholic, I’d sought help five years before and trained in psychotherapy to help others like me. At the time, I was 47 and Tom was 23. He came to my group every week and we got along so well. We started going for coffee afterwards. We had loads in common, loved the same rock bands and both had a silly sense of humour.

Before long, we opened up about our personal lives. I confided in him that I’d just come out of a difficult relationship, had started looking after myself better, eating more healthily and had lost 3st. Our friendship was platonic, or so I thought.

When he told me he was going away to teach at Camp America for nine months, I was sorry that I wouldn’t see him. But as the months passed, I missed him more than I’d expected to. We’d kept in touch and now, in July 2023, I was so excited that he was back.

When he walked through the door, my stomach jolted.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ he said, giving me a big hug.

‘You look fantastic,’ I told him, taking in his tanned skin and toned shoulders. It was as if he’d grown from a boy to a man in nine months.

‘You look lovely too,’ he responded and I felt myself blush at his compliment.