Not every story can be a happy a happy one. This week’s Guy’s Story is one of the unhappy ones.
“I don’t date on-line. Nothing against those who do, I respect the medium, but just nothing I have ever needed to do.
Started out as an innocent tweet to a young lady having troubles with men. I tweeted that “real men don’t do drama, boys do.” She responded, “whoa, that got my attention.” Thus began a series of tweets – me mostly telling someone 20 years my junior about how “men” date. I like to cook, and so I relayed how a real man would bring the ingredients over and cook. Even described the perfect dinner. She responded about how she would appreciate it – from doing dishes to doing the date.
Over the course of days she asked one telling question, “what about open marriages.” I responded by stating that I knew many couples who did this, but the marriages never seemed to last.
The tweets evolved into a relationship, phone calls – she lived in a different city – somewhere I travel to. I was googled – and there is a lot about me on-line – from photos to videos to newsclippings. Easy to find out about my life, with ten pages of googles, websites about my business, and lots of news. I had lived a very public life. Not to mention my own blog – where my life and struggles are out there for people to see. She would send an occasional photo – carefully framed. I like a pretty face, and she has a pretty face.
She’s bright, a talented writer, a lover of great books. A lot for us to talk about. We even wrote a piece about our first meeting, the first kiss, our first sexual encounter. The writing was vivid, it was explicit, it was wonderful.
Meeting at the airport was a bit scary. What if she didn’t like the cut of my gib? What if she decided that someone 20 years her senior was just a bit much? But in great anticipation and fear there was an excitment one feels just before intense competition – a feeling and focus I am familiar with. I had fallen for this person, a person I didn’t meet.
War bride syndrome is when two young people, a soldier and civilian fall in love. They don’t speak the language, they are filled with hormones in a dangerous situation. They marry, and eventually as one learns the other’s language they learn that what they had “put” into their mate, what they wanted. Ideal companion, always thinking the same thing. It falls apart as they learn differently. I feared I was doing this.
I saw her in person. Ok, so she wasn’t perfect. The photos were flattering, and in person she was rounder than even the face photo had been. Still, her mind – a great mind, a great conversationalist.
The sex was struggling. Well, sometimes the first time with someone is that way.
We met two more times- I would fly through her town, spend the night at a hotel, and take her to some great places in the city for dinner– with great food, great wine, and great conversation. The sex was average at best, and because of her figure she always wanted lights out. I didn’t mind her appearance.
Little by little her story unfolded. She was married, but in a bad marriage and getting a divorce. Living with her husband, and three small children. Two from him, one from her first marriage. She didn’t have a job, and was looking. She had little money, and seemingly didn’t have it from her husband and was worried about being sent out. I had some free-lance work sent her way, paid a part in cash.
She got upset when I would complement another woman on twitter- “hey pretty lady,” – and wanted me to not “flirt.” Complements to women, at any age, are something I have always done freely. I mean no harm, and without any intent beyond making someone feel a bit better.
When I was traveling to a different city she became jealous that I would meet someone there.
One day she privately messaged me. She was upset at a tweet – and became as foul as a person could in the private message. She told me on no uncertain terms where to go.
It wasn’t a match. It wasn’t what I thought it was – like the soldier who learns the language, and what she said and thought were different than the late night conversations. I couldn’t continue. She called, and called again and again. She wanted me to be something I wasn’t, she wanted me to rescue her, she wanted to have a child by me. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t – and yet she wouldn’t leave me alone.
I ended it. It wasn’t pretty. I was the bad guy.
Not a unique story, I’m sure. Meeting people electronically is fun, and interesting. But next time I will take the leader of this blog’s advice. Meet in a bar, have a drink – have an exit strategy, and move on. At 52 years old I learned a lesson I’m certain readers here know far better than I.”
Tags: first date, long-distance-relationship, Twitter