Our relationships expert Bess Strachan answers a reader who fears being a single woman in her late 60s makes other people wary of her.

Dear Bess,

I’m 68 and recently moved back to an area I know after a difficult breakup. I grew up here, but I don’t really know many people anymore.

I’m determined to get out there and make some friends, but I’ve started to wonder whether people are wary of me because I’m a single woman.

I’m not looking for another relationship. In fact, the thought of moving in with anyone again fills me with horror.

I would simply like to make friends – men and women, couples and single people.

But I find myself wondering whether couples see a single woman as some sort of threat. I’d like to go to the pub occasionally, have dinner with people and be invited to things, but so much of social life seems to revolve around couples.

Am I imagining this? And if I’m not, how do I get past it?

— Single, but not lonely

Dear Single,

I want to begin with something you said almost in passing: “I’m not looking for another relationship.”

Good.

Not because there is anything wrong with finding love again – there absolutely isn’t – but because I think there is something rather liberating about reaching a point in your life where you know what you want and, just as importantly, what you don’t.

And what you want is friendship.

That shouldn’t need an explanation.

I also suspect you may be doing something that so many of us do when we find ourselves in unfamiliar social territory: you are trying to work out what other people are thinking before you have given them the chance to show you.

Are couples wary of you because you’re single?

Some might be.

But I doubt nearly as many as you fear.

There is a particular anxiety that can creep in after a relationship ends. You become hyper-aware of your new status. You walk into a room and notice who is coupled up. You wonder who might be wondering why you’re alone. You start reading meaning into a conversation that may have contained absolutely none.

And suddenly you’re not just attending dinner.

You’re attending dinner while monitoring everybody’s reaction to the fact that you’re attending dinner alone.

Exhausting, isn’t it?

You are not “the single woman”

This may sound obvious, but I think it is worth saying.

You are not a relationship status.

You are a woman who happens to be single.

You have a history, opinions, interests, stories, terrible jokes, good days, bad days, favourite restaurants, people you adore and probably a few people you’d happily never have dinner with again.

That’s a person.

And people are much more interesting than their relationship status.

The couples you meet are also not simply “couples”. They are two individuals who happen to have partnered up.

Some will be delighted to meet you.

Some won’t particularly like you.

Some will become good friends.

Some will remain acquaintances.

And some will invite you over for dinner once and you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering why they put pineapple in the salad.

That’s life.

And here’s something else I’d like you to consider

You have recently come out of an unhappy relationship and moved to a new place.

That is a lot of change.

It might be tempting to interpret your discomfort as evidence that other people are excluding you, when perhaps some of what you’re feeling is simply the awkwardness of beginning again.

Starting over socially at 68 can feel surprisingly similar to being the new kid at school.

Everyone else seems to know each other.

Everyone seems to have their established friendships.

You wonder where to sit.

You wonder whether you’re interrupting.

You wonder whether anyone actually wants you there.

But here’s the secret: most people are far too busy worrying about themselves to spend nearly as much time analysing you as you imagine.

So don’t wait to be invited

This is the part where I want you to be slightly brave.

Invite someone.

Not necessarily a romantic prospect. Not even necessarily another single person.

Ask a woman you’ve met for coffee.

Suggest lunch after your walking group.

Invite a couple you’ve chatted to for a drink.

Say to someone, “I’m still finding my feet around here – would you fancy joining me for dinner one night?”

You don’t need to make it a big thing.

Friendships at our age don’t always arrive with a trumpet fanfare. Sometimes they begin with a cup of coffee and a conversation about how expensive everything has become.

And please don’t limit yourself to “women’s activities”

You mentioned women’s groups, and if you enjoy them, wonderful.

But you don’t have to build your entire social life around activities that are specifically designed for women.

Join a walking group.

Try a book club.

Take a cooking class.

Volunteer.

Go to a local quiz night.

Join a gardening group.

Take up singing.

Try a photography group.

Get involved with your local community.

The trick is to find somewhere where people do something together.

It’s much easier to make friends when you’re not sitting opposite one another thinking, “Right, we are now supposed to become friends.”

You’re doing something.

You talk.

You laugh.

You complain about the weather.

Someone suggests coffee afterwards.

And gradually, almost without noticing, you’ve acquired a social life.

And what about going out alone? Do it.

I know that’s easier to write than to do. The first time you walk into a pub or restaurant alone, you may feel as though everyone has turned to look at you. They haven’t. They’re probably wondering whether their steak has arrived.

Take a book. Take a magazine.

Sit at the bar if that’s comfortable. Choose a table where you feel relaxed. Have a glass of wine or a coffee.

Enjoy your own company. And if someone strikes up a conversation, lovely. If nobody does, you’ve still had dinner.

You don’t need to sit at home waiting for someone to become available before you are allowed to have a life.

There is also nothing wrong with bringing a friend

If going somewhere alone feels too confronting, don’t make it a test of courage. Take someone with you.

A friend doesn’t have to be single. A married friend is still your friend.

Go out together. Meet other people. Introduce yourselves.

You might find that being part of a little social “unit” makes it much easier to meet other people.

And before long, you may find yourself going out alone because it no longer feels like a big deal.

But here’s the bit I really want you to hear

Please don’t allow the possibility that someone might misunderstand you to stop you from living. You are not responsible for every assumption another person makes. If a married man sees a single woman and decides she must be interested in him, that’s his insecurity to manage.

If another woman decides every single woman is competition, that’s her problem.

If someone doesn’t invite you somewhere because they can’t imagine a social life that doesn’t revolve around couples, that’s unfortunate – but it doesn’t mean you should make yourself smaller.

You don’t need to prove that you’re harmless.

You don’t need to announce that you’re not interested in anybody’s husband.

You simply need to be yourself.

And I suspect that once you stop walking into rooms wondering whether you’re being judged, you’ll find that you’re much more able to notice the people who are actually interested in getting to know you.

You are 68.

You have presumably survived heartbreak, disappointment, family dramas, work, bills, bad haircuts, questionable fashion choices and at least one person who told you that you’d never manage without them.

I think you’re going to be absolutely fine.

In fact, I suspect this next chapter could be rather wonderful.

Don’t wait for somebody to decide you’re welcome.

Walk through the door as though you already are.

Warmly,

Bess

Bess Strachan is Starts at 60’s Relationships expert. If you have a question for Bess, email us at community@startsat60.com  with “Dear Bess” in the subject line.