The last couple of weeks have seen me with a full calendar of dates. When I say “dates”, what I mean is coffees and shags. Because that’s what the dating scene seems to consist of. I thought I’d been through it all. Apparently not. I present three scenarios for your delectation.
First there was Roberto*. A charming, handsome chap, around my age, of Anglo-Italian background. He made it clear that he was only interested in sex. I accepted that and joined him for a coffee. He couldn’t keep his hands off me, finding any excuse he could to touch me. I found him very attractive was excited by the thought of a dalliance. So it should have been on for young and old.
But alas, dear reader, ’twas not to be. He sent me a message the next day, concerned that my profile on this particular site, outlined my desire for a relationship. I reassured him that I was happy to play with him in the meanwhile, and yet he continued to ask questions. “But if you finally get a boyfriend, how will we act to each other if we meet on the street?” You WHAT?? I pointed out that he was over-thinking the entire exercise. What amuses me is that HE was the one who wanted “uncomplicated fun” and yet he was the one complicating it!
Needless to say, he didn’t get any fun, complicated or otherwise.
Then there was David*. We had quite a lot to talk about on the phone and he stepped up to the man-plate and said “It’s clear to me that we need to meet”. Ooooerrrrr! Coffee went for two hours. Lots of talking, easy, flowing, conversation, laughs, eyes flickered to my cleavage a couple of times. And I liked what I saw. I came home quite excited. And then didn’t hear from him.
Until a couple of days later when he sent me a chat request. I was relieved. He’d been busy, of course. Too busy to text me. Now here he was. He did like me after all! Oh dear…he proceeded to tell me he was going to a swingers party with some other woman and just wanted to ask me if I’d ever been to one. I didn’t answer. I logged off. Deathly silence ever since.
And the third one I wish to share at this juncture is Adam*. We met for a drink, rather than coffee…I was almost thrown…what do I order? Upon arrival and for the first ten minutes he seemed quite lovely. Handsome in a Grizzly Adams kind of way, interesting job, divorced for quite some time, seemed intelligent. An hour later I was ready to stab myself in the eye. He just went on and on and on. About his job (which lost its “interesting” factor after about 15 minutes) and his life and him him him. When he asked me something about myself it was in the form of a closed question. Like he was making a statement rather than making an inquiry. He would have made an excellent cross-examiner. And true to form, he didn’t really listen to my answers anyway and/or tried to give me advice.
And fuck me sideways if he didn’t try to kiss me when we departed AND has since sent me message about how we are going to catch up again when he returns from some travels. He clearly thinks the date went really well. I suppose from his POV it did…
My best friend often says to me, in re my dating, “I don’t know how you have the stomach for it”.
Well, girlfriend, I’m getting close to needing intestinal surgery.
How much more can a girl take?