Dear Bel,A few years ago I worked at a college where I had a crush on a colleague. Although we tended to socialise with different co-workers, we saw each other in passing. The few times I did approach him, he tended to keep our conversations brief and remained distant. I found it intriguing.Six months later my contract ended and I acquired a new job. Admittedly, his coldness did contribute but I also needed a change.On my last day I left him a card with my phone number and a message offering him to contact me if he wanted. He never did. The rejection hurt but I got over it. I thought that was the end.Last week, I was on a dating app when his profile appeared on my feed. His photos show he has gained weight and looks more tired than before.I found seeing him the worse for wear quite satisfying. I swiped left on instinct and he seems to have done the same. The app would have alerted me if he had swiped right. The problem now is that I keep thinking of him. It’s annoying because on paper we should work: same profession, same age, similar interests. I am sure we’d get along if he gave me the chance. I realise I am not an Adonis but neither is he.The fact that he’s from a religious family and works at a faith school makes me speculate that he’s still in the closet or living discreetly. His dating profile was vague and gave very little information away. A few years ago I worked at a college where I had a crush on a colleague, reader Luke tells the Daily Mail's Bel MooneyIn one of the photos he wore a sombre smile that made me feel a little sad for him. I know I shouldn’t feel this way about someone who mistreated me so badly. But he still gets under my skin.I was never given a reason for his hostility towards me. If he had at least given one I might be able to obtain closure. I could contact him for an answer on his other social media as I know his name but I doubt he’d respond.How to put this fantasy to rest, since he’s unlikely to reach out?LUKEBel replies: Luke, it was a relief to reach the end of your email and read the word ‘fantasy’ – since that means I don’t have to hit you with it.This problem is such a strange mixture of wishful thinking and resentment it’s hard to know how to approach the unreality of it all.A few years ago, you developed a ‘crush’ on a colleague who gave you no reason to suppose he was anything but indifferent to you. You didn’t even know for sure whether he was gay – not until recently when you saw him on the dating app.Yet, somewhat perversely, you found his cool indifference to you ‘intriguing’. It was bold of you to leave him your telephone number, yet also bizarre since he had never been friendly.Here’s where I have a problem with your tone. How was his failure to contact you a ‘rejection’ when he clearly had no interest in you at all, whether as friend or lover?Why do you call him ‘someone who mistreated me so badly’ and dramatise his lack of interest as ‘hostility’? Why would he need to ‘give a reason’ for just not thinking you his cup of tea? Why on earth do you need ‘to obtain closure’ for something that never happened?Truly, I don’t understand why just not wanting to interact with somebody in work can be seen as cruel mistreatment. So did you flirt with him openly and embarrass him in front of colleagues? Could that be what’s behind all this?It just feels like there’s something missing in your story – something you said or did, even before that final parting ‘gift’ of the telephone number.There’s quite a lot of malice in the words, ‘I found seeing him the worse for wear quite satisfying’ and in your comment that neither of you is a good-looking ‘Adonis’. That makes me feel quite sorry for him.You may well be correct to see his little smile in the photograph and feel ‘a little sad’ because, after all, he wouldn’t be on the app unless he was lonely. Like you.But, again, I ask you to understand why I sense resentment there rather than sympathy.There is so much truth in those lines from the great poet, W.B.Yeats: ‘We had fed the heart on fantasies / The heart’s grown brutal from the fare.’You don’t seem to have any interest in what might be true about the life of the man you once fancied; all you express is misguided pride, foolish fantasy and catty snips. Why on earth would he ‘reach out’ now? Forget this man. He has no interest in you and never will have.You both ‘swiped left’ – which (for those who don’t know the terminology) means dismissal. So that’s that. Live your own best life, now, Luke, find friends, do things – and forget what never was.I'm desperate to see my adult childrenDear Bel,I have three children who all live under an hour away at the most by car. My husband of 50 years died last year after a ten-year battle with dementia – a horrendous time.I dealt with it all; the kids didn’t visit him as much as I would really have liked them to. But I understood how difficult it must have been. They all work full-time.Now I’m on my own and I think I’ve made a rod for my own back because I try to be as independent as possible. I don’t get to see the family very much.There’s nothing more I’d love now than to be more involved. I have two grandsons: one married, the other (they live the closest) still at primary school.When my husband went into care I had to downsize so don’t have a dining table any more. This means I’m not able to cook a family meal. If I’m honest I’m disappointed I’m not part of their lives any more.My dilemma is this: should I let them know how lonely I am? That I would appreciate seeing them, helping them and just being part of a family again?I took myself off on holiday as I’m OK with my own company. (Or maybe not – hence this email.) But it made me feel even more lonely.I thought maybe I should join specific group holidays for solo travellers. I believe if you’re not happy with your own company, then you’re not a happy person. Do you have any suggestions?CHRISTINABel replies: To be alone after 50 years of marriage leads you into a strange new land, for which there are no route maps. The terrain can be pitiless and there is no way back. That sad and daunting situation is bewildering, lonely and exhausting. Contact Bel Bel answers readers' questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 9 Derry Street, London W8 5HY, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names are changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence. For you the grief must have been given another edge, after the ten years you describe as ‘horrendous’, when you had no choice but to mourn the steady loss of the husband you loved. I’m so sorry – and applaud the courage that has already taken you off on holiday alone.We’ll come to the family in a moment – but, yes, I do encourage you to research specific solo holidays. For example, if you put ‘art and culture tours for solo travellers’ into a search engine, you’ll discover many possibilities. It’s great to be with like-minded folk sharing a common purpose.Also check out the small company called One Traveller, which offers a huge variety of holidays here and abroad, all for solo travellers over 55. I’m sure you’ll find something to make your next holiday more fun. After all, you can be both happy with your own company and enjoy meeting people.It’s sad to read that you long for more attention from your family. I recognise that feeling of slight disappointment when you wish they’d paid more attention to your poor husband during those painful later years, but also identify with your defence that your children are busy and have their own lives to lead. The balance between being too needy and too independent isn’t always easy to find, but right now it’s important for you to try.The obvious question is – have you had a good conversation with any of your three children, telling them how you feel? I’m guessing the answer is no, because of your pride in the independence – the ‘rod’ that’s making you feel so alone.I don’t think you should ‘let them know how lonely’ you are (that’s needy), but you should certainly make it clear you would like more family time (that’s fun). What’s wrong with that? Their father is dead and I reckon it’s time they gave some thoughts to how their mother is coping. People are careless, so they will need a nudge. But that nudge is what they should get.You don’t need to cook meals. What’s wrong with morning coffee and biscuits? A sandwich for lunch? Tea and cake? Ready-made snacks and wine? What you want is to start a habit of visits, not wear yourself out in the kitchen.So forget that lack of a table and maybe get a reasonably priced nest of little side tables. You can transform your life now – by finding holidays, but also by letting the family know that you’re there, you love them and you’d like to get some dates in the diary.And finally...My tribute to sharp and honest Ann I want to share a memory as my way of expressing sorrow for the formidable and fantastic Ann Widdecombe.The very last Any Questions (on Radio 4) of the last millennium was chaired by my first husband, Jonathan Dimbleby, in what used to be called the Holy Land. Here is an extract from my journal.Thursday, December 23, 1999‘At 2 we left the hotel for Bethlehem... and it was like entering Babel. The Bethlehem 2000 money means the town is a building site, getting ready (very late) for Christmas. We found the Church of the Nativity and once again stared open-mouthed at the vulgarity of the shrine and the credulity of the pilgrims... I want to share a memory as my way of expressing sorrow for the formidable and fantastic Ann Widdecombe, who died on July 9‘Any Questions was recorded in a Palestinian rehab centre. The panel was the senior Rabbi David Rosen (English-educated, handsome, intelligent), Sala Tamari, whom I met when he was a Fatah commander, the Palestinian Christian Bishop of Jerusalem, and Ann Widdecombe.‘The programme was good – only a couple of moments of tension. JD was, of course, beautifully in command. Afterwards we had a jolly dinner back in Jerusalem and I warmed to Ann – sharp, funny, warm, eccentric, honest person that she is. Ann and I discovered we share a favourite poem and recited Abou Ben Adhem, by Leigh Hunt, in perfect unison. It was rather wonderful.’Oh, to capture the relaxed laughter and conversation in that place of conflict! At the heart of it was Ann – and I’ll never forget our delight in chanting that poem together. Fittingly, it’s the story of an Arab man who has a vision of a Christian angel and discovers that he is blessed by God because he ‘loves his fellow men’.Ann Widdecombe loved life and people, and her dear soul now rests with that generous God of her strong faith.