We’re going to get personal here. It's time for an adult conversation. I thought it was obvious that some
things need to remain private, but it seems not everyone is clued in to the
obvious. Some people still don’t get it. This is just MY opinion, of
course. You may have a different opinion, but a random poll among my
friends indicates other people agree with me.
Here’s what happened ... and as I
continue, I want you to know anonymity has been preserved.
Friends can be any gender.
I’ve always had a mixture of
friends, both male, female, gay, straight, transgender. Gender doesn't
matter. What's important to me is if we like each other, if we have
similar interests and values. Any male friend is just like a female friend,
only a guy ... a guy who is not a boyfriend or a significant other or a lover,
but a friend. We can talk and laugh and cry on each other’s
shoulders, just like I would with a female friend.
One guy I met last summer (let’s
call him “Tex"), I considered a friend. We had some shared
activities, and got to know each other over a period of months. One
night we met at a coffee shop for dinner and made plans to meet to see a movie
a few days later (as friends! We split the bill!) My schedule got all
jumbled up, and I wasn’t able to make the movie, so I gave him my address and
invited him over to my house later that evening for a glass of wine.
First, define terms!
I recommend before you get to
this point, alone with someone who is gender appropriate for romance, you
define your terms—terms like “friend” and “date” and “boyfriend” or
“girlfriend.” If you don’t define terms, you might find yourself in a
very uncomfortable position.
We settled in for what I thought
would be a pleasant evening of chatting, of “getting to know you,” when Tex
suddenly said, “So, we’re dating now.”
What the … “WE ARE???” I wasn't polite.
“Yeah,” he said, “first we had dinner and now we’re at your place, drinking wine. Two dates. We’re dating.”
Not in my world! I instantly
realized I really didn’t want to get to know him any better—we really didn't
have anything in common. Unfortunately, by the time I had that
realization, he was comfortably sitting in my living room enjoying that glass
of wine, it was late, and it was pretty clear he didn’t expect to
be leaving that night.
So, define your
terms. You have to, because dating isn’t the same at my age, in the
over-50 crowd, as it was when we were younger. With some single people in this age bracket, there’s an
underlying frantic feeling, a desperation, a “now or never” mentality. Some
people are hoping each new person they meet will be that special someone who will stick with them into
advancing old age (which feels right around the corner at this point). And we’re all suspicious of motives. A friend told me that in her
experience, most men and women at our age are looking for “a nurse or a
purse.” Where’s the love?
One thing I’ve learned to be true
is that if a lady invites a certain type of guy into her home, that guy thinks
he is going to be invited into ALL the rooms, not just the living room.
So here’s Tex, in my living room,
drinking wine, and finally figuring out that he’s not going to be invited
anywhere past the living room. He stops trying to be charming, and
shows his real self. He comments that maybe I’m not that experienced
(meaning, with men) and that’s why I’m staying on my side of the room and not
cuddling with him on the sofa. I’m too stunned at his comment to reply so I
don’t say anything … sadly, he interprets my stunned silence as an invitation
to keep talking.
What you should never ask your
date ...
“So how many have you been with?
Just a ball park figure. One hand or two?” And he held up his hands to
illustrate his question, 5-ish or 10-ish.
I immediately burst out
laughing. And laughing. loudly. Want to get rid of a guy? Laugh
at him, works every time. I finally stopped laughing long enough to choke out a
reply. I told him that I’d never answer that question, nor would I ever ask
it.
“Why not,” he asked. “It’s ancient history.”
“Exactly!” I said as I got up, walked over to the front door and opened it—a gesture that could not be misinterpreted.
It was definitely going to be the
last time I saw him, and I’m very proud to say I was gracious, even while under
attack. A hostess has to be gracious, no matter how rude her guest,
right? I didn’t mock him … other than laughing, of course. I even
let him have his last insulting word as he left. Then I made sure all my
doors were locked tight.
Here’s what my friends wanted to
say to him …
I shared this with my
girlfriends, and, once they finished laughing, they had the best one-line responses to his “5-ish or
10-ish” gesture, things I really wished I'd said. Here’s a sampling:
“Can I count my toes, too?”
“Can I go around more than once?”
“If there was more than one
person at a time, do I count that as one or three?”
And my personal favorite, “Let’s
see now, you just want to know about the guys, right?”
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