Being hurt emotionally is not solely the realm of the young. I am hurting, and I am old. I know I look and act and feel much younger than my years.

My man and I were very happy together for eight years. I supported him in his ventures, which sometimes were not to my liking. We had a good sex life.

It was one-sided, I know. He did not live my life as much as I lived his. But I enjoyed looking after him, and I loved him holding me. Our bodies liked each other, and I loved the nearness of him. I believe this was reciprocated. I always loved him dearly.

But I became too old for him. He insisted initially that the age difference of a decade did not matter at all...but it did. He was not one who would look after his partner if she became infirm...for a few days maybe, but not long term. He did not have time for that; he was on a mission to develop his inventions, and that came first in his life.

He was undermined by a so-called friend, a failed investor, who filled his mind with visions of the number of younger women who were available on the internet. My man spent more and more time at his computer, late to bed, more time in the office, less time for me and the home. He started restricting the hours he could spend helping in the yard.

I soon felt inadequate and unloved. When he had an affair, I could hardly cope. He insisted he wanted to stay with me, but it was evident that he was using my premises and me to further his ambitions, and would likely leave when it suited. My ego plummeted. Of course it did; the hurt was so severe.

I knew I must keep my dignity, a hard task when all I wanted to do was hit him, hurt him in some way. But he is big and strong, and might have hit me back! When his financial situation worsened and a court case was imminent, I asked him to leave. I knew I would miss him terribly, and I do.

He found a new lady quickly on the internet, and she is besotted with him as I was. All I think about are the good things about him, and there are quite a few. I feel discarded and old. Very sad. But I am trying to be dignified whenever I see him. I give him a cup of tea when he calls occasionally to pick up items left here. We are very pleasant to each other. He grabbed me once, as he was leaving, and kissed me seriously.

But the knife turns excruciatingly. He has no idea that I am hurting so badly. Am I right to want to be decent and courteous? To hide my feelings? It would help if I knew he was missing me but that his circumstances dictate that he ‘move on.’

I know I must accept that I have loved not wisely but too well.