I met a guy from POF once, who was a musician. We emailed, texted and talked, intensely, but for only a few days. We decided to meet.
We were supposed to go hear another vocalist at a club where I was eager to work. She had shown me kindness in our brief meeting and I wanted to support her.
I was delayed. (While the adhd has me seriously time challenged, I think my gut was telling me to run like hell!) So he decided to go into a recording session.
Suddenly it was close to 10pm. He wanted to come over. Now this looked like a booty call and I told him we shouldn’t mess this up by having sex. He agreed. (Famous last words…)
Ya know how sometimes your inner voice starts by nagging at you to avoid a situation? The more you ignore it, the louder it gets? Well, I ignored the voice that was screaming, “This guy is a lot like the ex husband!” (I was with him for 24 years).
Which may explain why I drink wine with him (I rarely drink anymore) while he goes through a half bottle of Jameson whiskey. I give him at least an hour long massage in bed while listening to my stretching playlist. (It’s mostly cirque du soleil music. Which is very zen for me as I get lost in the music.) He dozes, on and off.
The familiarity was refreshing. But, like my ex, he turned out to be a vortex of need. You know. The “What have you done for me lately?” type. I’ve been told I have a very generous spirit, so I can be a sucker for these guys.
Although we agreed that we weren’t going to have sex, we did. After which, he fell asleep and after tossing and turning, I finally leave to sleep in my other bedroom.
He woke at 5 am in a panic. (Never a good sign.) He said he had to work for the family land surveying biz….
I was happy to see him leave. I find it hard to trust a guy who sticks his tongue in your ear, thinking it’s sexy. Ugh!
He called a cab and I waited with him. He spied my small flat screen TV sitting near the piano. We have little to say to one another in the sobering light of day. Also, not a good sign.
“What’s that? “He inquires.
“It’s a small Sharp flat screen tv. I never use it. It’s one of the first ones that came out. It isn’t hdmi compatible. ”
“Does it work?”
“Ya. It works great. I just don’t have any use for it.” (I wish it had occurred to me that my friend Joe could use it in his kitchen.)
“Wanna sell it?”
Really? This is the oddest post coital chat ever…at least for me… WTF!
There was no way I wanted money to exchange hands having had boring sex with him hours earlier. (He’s one of those guys who was so well endowed, he thinks all he has to do is show up. WRONG!!! I’m eager to see the back of his boney ass. )
And how did this suddenly turn into a Going Out Of Business Sale?
“I wouldn’t sell it.”
“You want it? You can have it! ” I volunteered.
“Sure. Why not? Come for sex, get a TV!”
“Thanks! I’ll pay you for it.” Again with the money? This is too weird. He should stop by Harpo studios on the way home. Maybe Oprah has a car lying around that she doesn’t want…
With that, his cab texts saying that it has arrived and he’s out the door with
my little sharp TV under his arm like a thief in the night.
Lesson: If you’ve been married as long as I was, be wary of any guy who reminds you of your ex, lest you afford him the same courtesies you might have given to your ex. Old habits die hard. And God knows that even in a bad marriage, we let a lot of stuff slide. You don’t want to go down that road again!!!