
Mid-life ex-wifeOnline datingI tried to get him to play Q&A before our date but he didn’t want to answer my questionsThe following day I heard from Lee, the Austrian. Perhaps we should meet, he said, though he felt he had to be upfront and say he had reservations about me. Oh, I said. What are those? Is my sense of humour not feminine enough? It’s true that I was deterred by your apparent offer of sex on our first date, he said, and though you assured me you were joking, I’m not sure that you were joking, entirely. I like to take things really slowly, he said.
So do I, as it happens, I told him, (instantly defensive, not really clocking his pomposity). In the last relationship I almost had, I felt rushed into bed, way too soon. I’m still ashamed of myself for not insisting on waiting, for not seeing that it wouldn’t work earlier, and walking away. The whole thing became embarrassing, I said; I’d found it hard to assert myself and my needs.
So we should meet and have that dinner, he said. Let’s meet and see if we hit it off. I don’t know if you really want to get into anything, even a 90-minute encounter over steak and chips, with someone who objects to their humour being critiqued as “unfeminine”, I said. Femininity is important to me, he said, and it probably is to you too. We’re just using language in different ways. Bear in mind that I’m Johnny Foreigner (smiley emoticon). So let’s have dinner. Okay, I said. Dinner would be nice; we’ll go Dutch, which will be another nationality brought into the equation. Sorry, he messaged back – Dutch? What do you mean? It’s an expression, I assured him. It means I’ll pay half. Oh God, he said. You’re not going to insist on paying half are you? I stared at the screen, my mouth twitching. What do you mean by “femininity is important to me”? I asked him. We can discuss this over dinner, he said. It will make for a lively 90 minutes over steak and chips, though it’ll be chicken for me as I don’t eat red meat any more. Let me just say this, in case you misunderstand me, he added. I’m a feminist, modern man who loves women. But I am not attracted to women who exhibit male traits, and who are dominant. Perhaps I should also mention that I’m turned off by women who are dominant in bed.
At this point, I was sure I didn’t want to meet Lee more than once, but I was curious, and I was bored and lonely, and mildly freaked out by recent events, so I agreed to dinner. Shortly after, I received an email from Miles, apologising for the withdrawal of the invitation to lunch at his house. This will sound shallow, he wrote, but I have a certain physical type, and I just wasn’t attracted to you, but I hope we can be friends.
I messaged Lee. Let’s play Q and A before our date, I said, trying again (I need playfulness). I’ll go first and we’ll alternate with random questions. Here’s my first. How do you feel about Ikea? His reply said “Why are you doing this? I don’t want to answer your questions.” What do you mean, I asked him? It’s just fun. If you don’t have the time or don’t feel like it, just say so, but there’s no need to be cross about it. “This is some pretty weird shit,” he said in his reply. I said that we should probably cancel our dinner arrangement, and he said that he already had.
I was really irritated. I couldn’t let it go without a bit more of a fight. I wrote asking if a question about Ikea was interpreted as some sort of an assumption that I was preparing to go house hunting with him. It was, of course, a joke but he replied saying the subconscious was a powerful thing. I couldn’t believe it. So, I said, the first Q and A I attempted with you – the question about Scrabble – was that my subconscious wanting to rush ahead and buy our first marital boardgame? You see, he said, you’re thinking about marriage. You used the word.
I frowned at the screen. Are we joking? I asked him. I think we’re joking with one another, but I’m just not sure. Either we’re joking or you’re deeply strange. It isn’t me who’s strange, he said. You’re the one who wants to dominate a total stranger with your demands for information. Oh, I said. I see. Was that unfeminine of me? This conversation is over, he said. Please don’t email me again.
Stella Grey is a pseudonym
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