I met "David" last week, via the internet, on the free site. We had a funny, banter-filled conversation. I mocked him and he took it well. He was an arrogant bastard, but it was half a pose and I wasn't offended. He asked me out. I didn't answer. When he asked again, I said yes.
David told me he was into older women. He liked that I was Jewish.
I wrote, "Oh, so I can tell my mom I'm having casual sex with a Jewish guy. She'll be so proud."
He wrote, "I don't want casual sex."
"You don't? We are talking about sex, though, right? I mean, you don't want to marry me. (BTW, if you wanted to marry me, that would be weird.)"
He responded, "I'm looking for something that's 70% sexual, 15% friendship, 10% romantic and 5% mentor."
I wrote, "You are the man with a plan. 5% mentor?"
He wrote, "Not mentor in the bedroom. I'm great in bed. Mentor, like, to get the experience of talking to someone older and wiser."
"Older women everywhere breathe a sigh of relief. Whew."
"What do you think about that—my interest in older women?"
"I don't know. I guess it's good for older women."
Funny thing: I'm pretty sure I'm not what these young guys are thinking of when they picture an older woman. I'm not sophisticated, I'm not mature and when it comes to fooling around (making out, necking, hooking up), I'm downright goofy.
Then I told David that I have a Ph.D. and he went nuts. We HAD to get together. He wrote, "Wow, that's such a turn on. Do you believe me?"
I wrote, "Well, this may put you over the edge, but I have something else to tell you that you will love. I didn't go to high school."
After some further explanation of that statement, he wrote, "I think I DO want to marry you. When can we meet?"
Because he asked, because I got a kick out of talking to him, and because he was cute, I made a date with him.
After my conversation wtih David, I went to the ball game with Damian. I told him about David, whom he promptly dubbed, "The Intern." I did not spare any details and Damian laughed and laughed. Then I said, "You know what, I made a date with that guy."
"I feel like an idiot."
When I told Damian about it, I seriously doubted my decision. The next day, I told (work friend) Diego and he was a bit concerned, but he didn't discourage me. I didn't think I'd like David. I thought I had his number. And, he probably wouldn't like me either.
The next day, I went to rowing practice and, after a quick change, I biked to the bar where I was supposed to meet David. He wasn't there, so I sat and ordered a beer. I put my bag on the seat next to me as the bar started to fill up. I looked at my watch. I decided that if he were more than 15 minutes late, I would call or leave. But then I saw him. I recognized him right away—from both the "I'm looking for someone expression" and his picture.
I caught his attention and he came over and we said hello. He saw my bag on the stool and said, "Oh, you saved me a seat! Thanks. I hope you weren't waiting long."
We started talking. I was surprised that I liked him at all, but I did. He said, "Wow, you're nervous."
"Why do you say that?"
"You're thinking, why did I agree to meet this guy?"
I said, "I'm not thinking that anymore."
"But you did think that! So funny."
"Yes, before, I did wonder. But it's fine now."
He was pushy but not rude to the bartender, asking for a particular beer then accepting the beer list. After about an hour he asked if I were hungry. I hadn't ordered anything, but I did need to eat and I was enjoying myself. We talked about all kinds of things, a little politics, a little "where did you grow up." He asked how long I'd been rowing and I told him that my grandfather rowed. He got very excited—because his grandfather rowed too.
Almost as soon as we met, the prospect of something more, like a goodnight kiss, went back on the agenda.
We left the bar and found a restaurant. The meal was good and the conversation continued well. He was brimming with confidence, but it wasn't just bluster. Usually, when someone is that brash and bold, it's a cover. Underneath, they are looking for reassurance. That wasn't the case with David. He was exactly what he seemed to be—arrogant, somewhat uneasy about it, but not embarrassed either. He went back and forth between his confident stance and laughing at himself for being so over the top. What can I say? I was entertained, charmed and amused.
He paid me a few compliments on the way to the restaurant and when we got there. He told me I was beautiful and he listened to everything I said. It felt good.
When we left the restaurant, we hadn't decided what to do. We walked back to where I parked my bike. Then, we turned towards the metro. I knew I wanted him to come over. I told David, "You can come to my house, but, you know, there's a limit."
"You mean, we can just make out."
"Right. Or maybe not even that. But definitely no more."
"Ok, no problem."
So I took him home. And it wasn't a problem. Of course, I expected him to push a little, which he did, but it wasn't troubling. We also continued to talk. And we did make out. There was a bit of a rough start since I sat as far away from him as possible. He finally took the initiative to sit next to me. I was very nervous and laughed a lot, which puzzled him. That's probably when he figured out that I'm not a seductress (he was a little disappointed). But it was fun and he said, "That was some good makin' out!" I had to agree. It was good.
He was curious about my impression of him and I said, "I don't know how you'll take this, but I could tell you were harmless. I mean that you wouldn't hurt me or be too aggressive."
"No, I'm glad you can tell, because that's true."
In a moment where he was trying to persuade me to go a little further than the line I'd drawn, I said, "Look, I know what you want…and that's fine."
"Oh, but you don't know what you want…you suck."
"I do suck. I have to figure it out. It's just that, generally, when I'm going to sleep with someone, he's usually my boyfriend. Or I have a reasonable expectation that he will be."
David said, "You're really not very slutty, are you? That's too bad."
And that was about that. He left at 2am and I went to sleep about an hour later. I got to work a little late the next day, but still managed to make it to rowing.
I'm still thinking about what I want and I haven't talked to David. But I would like to see him again. All I can say for sure is that I enjoyed the entire interaction—the talking, the kissing, the whole thing. But can I get involved with someone without any expectations? Can I enjoy myself and not get my heart broken? Can I manage not to fool myself into thinking it's something it's not?
How fragile am I? I've been crushed over and over again and I still haven't given up, so why couldn't I handle it?
But even if I can handle it, is it really how I want to spend my time? Being involved with David would take me off the market, even if I managed not to get my heart broken. I am always open to people who are 'wrong' for me, but I convince myself there is something worthwhile—that there is a chance. Is this the same thing?
With David, there is no chance for a long-term relationship. There is only a chance to enjoy the time I spend with him. And if I can do that without freaking out the rest of the time, I'm no worse off than I was in my last two relationships. And maybe I'm better off, because, for once, I won't be lying to myself.
I have to wonder, though, how the hell I got here without knowing what I want. I didn't know when I was 24 and I don't know now. Wow. It really is time to grow up when sex-crazed 24-year-olds who dig older women start to seem more mature than I am.
Grateful for: desire.
Drop me a line.