True artistry

About eight months ago a guy had contacted me online, chatted a little, nothing great and nothing awful.  He sounded ok enough to meet, so we made plans to go to a bar after work that Friday.

Friday around 4:00 he wrote to say that his office had heard they might be facing layoffs and he wouldn't be good company that night.  OK, that's reasonable. We rescheduled for the next Friday night. 

The next week, again around 4:00, he texts to say that one of his coworkers is leaving and he "has" to go to the farewell happy hour.  Can I meet the next day for lunch or something?  Ha ha!

No, I said.  Two blown Friday nights in a row were enough for me. 

So last week he pops up again, trying to chat, asks if we can meet up.  I ask if he remembers that the reason we hadn't met before was that he'd cancelled at the last minute, twice.  Yes, he says, he won't do that again.  "Apologize for that" he says, and I note that he didn't include the "I" at the beginning of the sentence that would actually link him to his actions.  But I agreed to meet him this Friday night after work, in Williamsburg, so about an hour of subway and walking time to get there. 

I get on the subway.  I get off the subway.  I'm walking.  About two blocks from the bar he texts me.  He's at the bar but his apartment has been broken into.  He has to go back to meet the police.  He has to check what's been stolen.  His laptop may have been stolen and he has work documents on it.  (He's a receptionist at a dental office.  What work is he taking home?)  If I want to go to the bar he'll be back in an hour.

MAYBE he's just the most inconveniently unlucky person in the world.  But I doubt it.  I think he's lying.  His story has too many words in it.  It doesn't ring true. 

No, I'm not going to wait for you.  I'm leaving. 

He writes that maybe we just weren't meant to meet.  Ha ha!

I've got to give it to this guy, he's an absolute artist.  And I fell for it.  After standing me up twice, he got me within two blocks of the location before standing me up again.

When men complain about how women are bitter, guarded, defensive, this is why.  This kind of shit. 

Guarded

I'd met a guy online.  He responded to one of my ads, and at first I was suspicious.  His answer was very brief, and sent with some photos of a guy who was so conventionally attractive, posed in such stereotypical ways (on a beach, drinking champagne...) that I suspected a Nigerian scammer had just sent me a set of stock photos.

I did some google image searching and found out they weren't stock photos.  He was real.

That was a new one for me.  I'm used to being around quirkily charming oddballs.  Not conventionally hot guys.  Let alone a conventionally hot guy who states a preference for bigger women.

Wow... this is... like Christmas.

Except that when I was researching his photos I found out that he was 53.  He'd told me he was 45.  That put me on guard.  If you're going to lie about your age, what else might you lie about?  But I wanted to wait and see what would happen.

We met for coffee.  He was decent at conversation!  He asked questions!  He had stories to tell!

He never told me his last name, so when I asked, I jokingly said I'll find out and he dared me to do it.

He texted me, told me he was attracted.  I replied that I was attracted to him too, but what's up with the age thing?  I had cover for having found that out while looking for his last name.

It took him a long time to respond, but eventually he wrote to say that he lied about his age because women discriminate against a guy who's older than 50, claimed he would have told me his real age soon anyway.  I figured I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and see what else would happen.

We met one evening in Coney Island, walked around, had some dinner, listened outside a concert at the ampitheater.  It was a very nice date, a really good evening.  He put his arm around me a few times, and seemed like a giddy teenaged boy, seemed glad to be with me.

On the way back home, on the subway, we were getting closer and closer to my stop.  I finally asked him to kiss me, and it was good.  I left the train, and he rode home.

We planned to meet for dinner the next Saturday, until he texted me on Saturday morning that he was going to cancel.  We weren't "right for each other".  I was flabbergasted, and asked why?

He said I'm guarded.

I replied that I'm a 48 year old single woman, so yeah, damn right I'm guarded.

No, he said.  I'm not romantic.  I'm not sensual.  I should have asked him to walk me home from the subway.  We could have kissed by my door then, that would have been romantic.  It wasn't romantic kissing on the subway, under the florescent lights.

What the fuck?  If you want to walk me home from the subway, say so.  It never even occurred to me to ask someone to walk through the industrial wasteland between Ditmas and my apartment.

And if you, as an adult, want to do something, have an idea and don't say anything, that's on you.  I'm not psychic.  How am I to know the fairly specific script in your mind, that spells out "romance"?

When I told a friend at work she was offended.  A gentleman ALWAYS volunteers to walk a woman home from the subway.

Now I know.

Provincial

A pattern I'm seeing in online dating profiles are guys who are proud to have been born in New York City and never lived anywhere else.  Maybe they went away for college, but they came back, and stayed.

I wouldn't begrudge a person choosing to live where they want to, finding a place where they fit, and are happy.  But I think that experiencing different places is an important part of getting there.

When I lived in Texas I'd meet people who'd only lived in Texas, and would only live in Texas.  "It's the best state in the nation!"  And, well, Texas is pretty big.  There's reasonable variety between places in Texas.  But still, that attitude seemed really provincial.

Now, here, these guys are proud to have only lived within a 13-mile-long island.

Sure, there's variety in New York, diversity, but not enough to keep me from thinking that these guys are also... provincial.

New York is small.  It's physically small.  The population is actually pretty small.  You re-meet the same people.  I see the same repeat strangers, even in parts of town I'm not in regularly.

Living forever in New York isn't like living forever in Paducah.  I recognize the diversity of the population, and the experiences a person can have here.  But still, there are limits.  It's a less limited perspective than if they'd grown up somewhere smaller, but still it's a limited perspective.

And yet these folks are proud of it, they brag about it.

They don't realize that I'm not the one to brag that particular brag to.

Way Too Young Guys

Years ago I was approached by a guy about seven years younger than I was.  Friends and I dubbed him "Way Too Young Guy" (WTYG).  I mean, he was a legal adult and all, very much so.  But way too young for me, with all that entails.

A friend declared that we should all work our way through a set of "Way Too... " guys.  Way Too Young.  Way Too Old.  Way Too in the Cab of a Truck.  She's totally right.

Somehow, in New York, I'm attracting and being attracted to a bunch of Way Too Young Guys.  Or maybe they're just Young Guys.  Even though the age differences have been greater than the First WTYG, they haven't felt that young to me.  Not Way Too Young, at least.

I went on a dinner date with one of them yesterday.  He's a decent enough guy, but the conversational match just wasn't there.  It was awkward and halting all the way through.  Near the end of the evening I decided to just go ahead and tell him that I was feeling more friend-y toward him than date-y, and wished him the best. 

And then I realized a super handy thing about dating Way Too Young Guys.  When the time comes to cut them loose, it's handy to be able to blame the age difference and nothing more personal.  Then, once the age difference is blamed, it crystalizes in my mind, and becomes an actual barrier.  

Handy!

Things I am not OK with

Here's a limit I never knew I had.

I'm very middle aged.  I work in a very quiet-seeming field.  My social circles never contained drug dealers, not that I knew of.

Until I moved to New York.

The guy I'd been seeing, a would-be comedy writer who is not funny, is also, on the side, dealing marijuana.  When I heard this I gave it some thought.  Did I care?  Should I care?

Even before this I'd thought that marijuana is no worse for people than alcohol is, and might be significantly better, psychologically.  And the legal situation has been changing so much lately.  So, no, I decided, I didn't care. Though I did find it odd to even have to be thinking about this at my age.  And since then, a matter of several months, it hasn't been a problem.

Until tonight, getting ready for a date we'd planned out many weeks ago, I get a text that he might be delayed due to "a deal" and that he'll keep me updated.

OK... no.

Nope, that's it.  That's my limit.

Many years ago I'd been pursued by a former convict who was still on the sex offender registry.  Nope, I thought, that's it.  I'm out.  I'm not dating someone on the sex offender registry.

And I'm not tolerating being stood up due to a drug deal. 

****************

Except that's not really how it happened.

I'd written that post in the time leading up to the date, anticipating being stood up.  As it was, I wasn't stood up so much as the date was delayed.  What was supposed to be a dinner date followed by an event became just the event.  And the tickets had been bought and I wanted to go to the event, so I thought, screw it, and went ahead on the now half-a-date.

But I'm glad I thought about it.  This guy isn't a bad guy per se....  Well, maybe he is.  He's certainly working in two different unethical jobs (I'm not describing the other one here right now).  But I need to be with someone more clearly "not a bad guy".  Someone who's a good guy.

That's what I need to put effort into right now.  Even if I haven't yet kicked the drug dealer to the curb.

 

Extreme photo cropping

When I was living overseas, many of the men on the online dating sites would post pictures of inanimate objects, or internet memes.  Anything but a picture of themselves.  I figured that they were trying to avoid outing themselves as daters, while they work through the process of an arranged marriage.

Now I'm in New York, and am still seeing pictures that have been awkwardly and extremely cropped, so that you can't see a guy's face.  The text usually claims that the person works in a small field and doesn't want to risk gossip.

Dudes, it's just online dating.  You're not taking a hit out on someone. 

Everyone does it.  Nobody cares that you are too.  You're making yourself look self important and silly.

The Farma Broh

I'm spelling the phrase wrong in the title of this post, but sound it out in your head and you'll likely know who I'm referring to.  I'm spelling it strangely because I don't want this blog to come up when someone googles him.

A profile popped up on OkCupid within the past few weeks and I did a double take.  Is that... that guy?  The one vilified in the press for price gouging lifesaving drugs?  Was this really his profile, or was it a spoof?

I didn't think it was a spoof, because it was boring and self centered in the way that most heterosexual men's online dating profiles are boring and self centered.  It didn't say much about him, and certainly didn't offer any good reason that a woman should want him to be part of her life.  So I figured it was real.

It's strange to me ... this city is so small, physically.  Every famous and infamous New Yorker is within about a seven mile range from here.  So, if someone like him puts up a profile, he may pop up in my searches.

A couple of days ago he was arrested for securities fraud.  The next day I checked his profile.  The last time he'd been logged on was 1:30am the night before his arrest.  I figure this means the profile is real, because it would take a really focused spoofster to resist the urge to check the inbox after the arrest.

He's logged on since then, so I guess he's out on bail.