Stars in his lies

Steve was persistent in sending me messages on OKCupid. He began by asking me out for the same day as his message. After no response for a few days, he pleaded for any response.

I did not respond to the first couple messages because it was a Saturday, and a girl’s got stuff to do. Though Steve’s photos were of a fit, attractive man, something in his narrative didn’t feel right, so I chose to ignore those first messages.

Upon receiving his last-ditch attempt, I revisited his profile to try to pinpoint exactly what it was that I did not like. Couldn’t find it. I appreciated the candor and tenacity of his messages, so I thought, “Why not?”

I agreed to meet for a drink during the week. I was punctual. He was early. We sat at the front corner of the bar of a trendy Henderson Avenue restaurant.

He looked eager. I casually asked about his day, and that seemed to put him on the spot. Conversation segued into the idea of being ‘present’ in life. Enjoying the moment. Seeing the truth in situations. I adore talking philosophically.

The philosophical took an astronomical spin. Steve began to describe a red dwarf star that was nearing Earth, and within two months, this star will have a strong gravitational pull on our fare marble as it aligns with the sun and a few nearby planets. Not necessarily apocalyptic, but severe tectonic plate shifting. Steve said many people will be troubled by this. He encouraged me to find my peace and get my life in order.

I was over the moon! This is the type of conversation that Hollywood writers get paid to put on television, but I was getting in real life and treated to a cocktail at the same time!

As I continued to listen, Steve talked about work. He works in the fitness industry and has big ideas for a business venture. I will not divulge details as this was in confidence.

As he detailed the future of this business venture, he kept tripping over his words. The ex-wife sounded not so former but present. I asked, “When did you and your wife divorce?”

“Well, it's just a matter of the paperwork now,” Steve replied.

My light disposition fell grave. He lied. His profile stated single. As I stood to go to the ladies room to compose myself, I said, “I do not date married men.”

“This isn’t a date,” Steve replied. Moments after paying our tab. Buying me a couple drinks. At a restaurant. Just the two of us.

I could not leave his presence fast enough. How’s that for being present?

Steve was a reminder that I don’t need to pinpoint what specifically my instinct doesn’t like. But if I don’t listen to it, I will see it when the stars align.

A kiss is just a kiss

I hadn’t done karaoke in almost two weeks, so I headed to one of my regular places on Lower Greenville Thursday night. I arrived in a cute summer dress with shimmery ballet flats and a cell phone with low battery. Though I planned to stay to myself catching up on Words with Friends between songs, I decided to turn the phone off to conserve for my ride home and enjoy the view. Lots of familiar but unacquainted faces led to many bouts of small talk. Except for David.

David kept close, smiled big and engaged me in conversation as often as he could. The big dimples, nice smile and bright eyes made it easy to pick up conversation with this young man. Even when it was my turn at karaoke, I could see him watching intently. After two songs and a cocktail, I found myself consumed in conversation teetering on debate with Young David. At one point when he excused himself to go to the bathroom, I realized that his friendly demeanor and genuine interest in my opinions incited my strong, almost bullying viewpoints.

Upon his return I apologized for being so strong with my dissenting opinions on politics and suburban living. I explained that he was so easy to talk with that I overindulged in debate tactics. He responded that it was fine. He liked it. At that moment, it dawned on me that Young David thought anything I did that night was fine as I saw smitten kitten in his eyes.

I stepped back and took it all in: the tête-à-tête, the dimples and the hopeful eyes. He was oh-so young, but I was becoming smitten, too. The strong emotions that stirred in me during conversation evolved into attraction. I smiled and responded to his attention with a light touch of his arm, then his knee. Next thing I knew we were kissing. And kissing. Pull back for breath. Oh yeah, then kissing again.

As we made eye contact, Young David noticed I was blushing. “Why?” he asked.

“Maybe because I had no idea that I’d be kissing someone tonight. And REALLY enjoying it.”

I then noticed beneath his darker skin tone, he was blushing, too. Little red apples resting above his big dimples. He wouldn’t concede that he was blushing. He just redirected discussion to my rosiness. I offered my number. He proclaimed he wanted to take me to dinner. I felt it fair to share exactly how old I was because even at his top guess, I was still in a higher age bracket. He tried his darnedest to look OK with our 14-year difference. I offered that it was OK if we didn't go out. The kisses were nice. That was enough. He was insistent that we were to dine together in the near future.

Even when I got home my face continued to feel warm and my heart raced. I marveled how quickly the night turned into one of the best kissing experiences I’d ever had. Perplexed. I could not see this going anywhere but something akin to shampoo instructions: kiss, rinse, repeat.

Over the next 24 hours Young David texted, and I replied. I normally do not like texting as a way to get to know someone, but our date would be Saturday night, and I was curious what Young David does with his days.

By Saturday evening, Young David called regretfully that his nephew had an accident, and he would not be able to see me that night. I was silent and saddened. I pined to exercise shampoo-instruction-similar activity. But, my mind raced to our conversations: He was deciding whether to finish the last few credits to earn his degree. I was contemplating whether to diversify my retirement portfolio into some safer investments as I was nearing the mid-point in my career.

When he offered to call me the next day to plan a date for the next weekend, I softly begged, “No. Thursday was great. Please don’t.”

“OK” he responded with what I believed to be disappointment and relief all in one. I would not take away my Young David kissing experience, but it was a moment not to be repeated.

Fastest bad date in the South

Matt found me on Match.com. Matt is an empty-nest divorcé just shy of a decade older than me. His photos are cute and his messages were complimentary of my profile photos, and intrigued with my subscription to the New Yorker magazine and our common interests.

When we discussed meeting up, he attempted asking me for an evening drink the day of. Twice. Both times I had other plans. When I offered other days, he said that he would get back to me. His third time was a charm, I was available. He picked the place. I picked the time.

As I rushed from the gym to shower and change, I did not have time to cure the post-workout hunger. The trendy semi-new Cedar Springs restaurant was so close; it would have been a crime for this bicycle enthusiast to take four wheels. So I headed out on two wheels and an empty stomach

A triple-digit-temperature day resulted in me immediately seeking out a cool towel to dab my face after the short ride. Passing through the very crowded restaurant toward the ladies room, I saw no Matt. Once inside I saw he text that he arrived. I text back to ask where I could find him. Outside.

We shook hands. He looked as if he put no effort into his attire. I knew he put no effort into getting there because of the phone conversation when he told me where he lived. A block away.

Matt remarked how crowded it was. I offered that we could stand inside as we have our drink. He asked if we could sit outside. I said that I just rode my bike and found the weather too hot to enjoy the patio. I mentioned that I wanted to order some food, too. He looked as if he’d been snookered, “I thought we agreed to meet for drinks?”

I replied, “You are welcome to have a drink, but I need to eat.”

I explained how work was busier than I expected and that gave me a late start at the gym. Though I had intentions of eating at home, my priority was to meet him on time.

He offered going somewhere else several times, and each time I said ‘sure’ – I was game for any place Matt chose.

He asked again about outside for just a drink. I conceded. Matt asked, “Are you sure?” I smirked, “Well, I told you what I would like. You don’t seem to want to do that, so I can have a drink with you for an hour then do my own thing.”

“Listen,” he replied, “I’m getting a bad feel from the start.” I felt as if the skies opened and the angel of dating salvation touched my shoulder to say, “Now you may leave.” I did. “Yeah. Me, too. Thanks anyway.” I made a bee line for the Bianchi.

Matt called out, “Hey, don’t take it personally.”

I didn’t. How could I? It has always been about Matt. He is just searching for his perfect doormat.