Saturday, October 22, 2016

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.

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