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Remember the movie "Gigi"? There was a duet between
Maurice Chevalier and Hermione Gingold. I believe the song was entitled,
"I Remember It Well". The premise was two lovers, meeting years later
in their old age. As they begin to recount their first meeting they
discover that they both remembered it differently.
"You wore blue".
"No, I wore green".
"I was on time".
"No, you were late". |
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We've all been there. You remember something one way,
he, another. Or better yet, you and your significant other have a
heartfelt discussion. And yet, weeks later, the statement, "I never
said that", pops up.
It's more than differing points of view. Men and
women see and process things differently. If you say "I'm tired",
the unspoken subtext may be "I'm feeling fragile and needy. Please
pamper me and make me feel loved." But the subtext he may discern
is, "I'm tired, please leave me alone and give me my space."
So he goes off to play golf, you're angry, and he doesn't
understand why.
Like opposite sides of the same coin, men and women can
have very different points of view. |
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It was a blind date.
As a man, I hate blind dates.
In fact, anything that limits my ability to visualize a woman beforehand
is very disconcerting. It's bad enough trying to picture an automobile
that I've seen only on a freeway billboard or booking airfare to a place
I've never seen other than in a travel brochure. However, actually
meeting a woman whose photo appeared in an Internet matchmaking web site
after exchanging several e-mail messages is a rather nerve-jangling experience.
After all, some people who are rather plain looking in real life
do take very good pictures. Then, again, maybe the photo she posted
on the web site is ten years old or, worse yet, a stolen graphic from the
Internet that looks something like her. Still, there was always the
possibility that it really was an accurate representation of what she looks
like. If so, it would be worth the hour-long drive to the area where
she lived. It was. She turned out to be an absolutely gorgeous
woman.
We had agreed to meet in the front
parking lot of a local business near to her home. I agreed with her
regarding her concern that we meet somewhere other than where she lived.
It was a wise precaution on her part. As I drove through the parking
lot, I was not able to find the car that fit the description of the one
she would be driving. However, in a few minutes, the white four-door
sedan pulled into the lot next to where I was parked. We rolled down
our driver's side windows together and my chin hit the floor. She
was blonde. She was slender. She was beautiful.
She was curvy. And she was smiling at me.
Following an exchange of hellos
and a few innocent flirtatious remarks, my Camaro followed her Oldsmobile
to the restaurant she had told me about in our last e-mail exchange.
It was one of those quaint little privately owned establishments with lots
of candlelit tables for two. She had reserved one in a corner next
to a log-filled fireplace that was burning away on yet another wintry cold
February Friday evening. After being seated, we chatted for a few
moments, ordered our dinners, and went on to enjoy a perfect first date.
It concluded with my walking out to her car and enjoying three sweet kisses
in a row. I could not believe that this beautiful creature wanted
to see me again. Yet, before the evening was out, we had made plans
to spend a Saturday of the next week together. Wow! She was
really interested in me! I felt just like a million bucks!
I drove home that night feeling
very pleased with myself. In fact, I felt that way all week long.
The second date began at her
place. Again, I made the hour-long drive to find her ranch home.
It turned out to be within five minutes of the restaurant where we had
dined the week before. We had agreed to order in some Chinese and
watch a video or two together. She paid for the food and set out
a copy of the Christopher Reed movie, "Somewhere in Time." Again,
I was absolutely taken with the fact that such a gorgeous female would
show such interest in me. When the bag of Chinese was delivered,
I helped her set the table and unpack the contents. We enjoyed a
few hours of wonderful conversation while we finished our meal and then
I helped her clean up the kitchen afterwards. Following that, we
went down to her family room to watch the movie. Once the movie began,
she grabbed a comforter, plopped herself down on the sofa next to me, covered
both of us up, and then leaned into me to watch the movie. My heart
rate began to increase. I only hoped that she wouldn't notice.
When the movie was over, we talked
about it for a few moments and then, well, you know, we kissed. Actually,
it was a very long kiss. Then there was another long kiss followed
by an even longer one. There isn't a male on the face of the earth
who would not have been extremely envious of the situation in which I found
myself. The kisses became very intimate and passionate. Twice,
she stopped to catch her breath while indicating to me that she was getting
excited.
Then it happened.
Again, we were lip-locked.
Somehow my left hand found itself brushing against one of her curves.
I sware that it was a reflex of some kind. Well, at least that's my story
and I am sticking to it. The next thing I knew, it was over.
She stood to her feet as if hit by a bolt of lightening and announced in
the voice of a master drill sergeant that I had just committed the unpardonable
sin. After an hour of very passionate kissing and at least two verbal
indications that she was getting excited, I had the gall to touch her intimately.
Upon springing to her feet, she accused me of being just one more sex-crazed
male and escorted me to the door.
I was dazed during the entire drive
home. In fact, I was not able to shake it off for the entire next
week.
Somewhere in the middle of that
week, she e-mailed me to let me know that she would like to meet again.
Now, I was really dazed. Once more, I made the hour long trip to
her home for another Saturday. To avoid the misunderstanding of the
week before, I suggested that we go out for dinner. We drove into
a neighboring city, enjoyed a nice midday dinner and then I took her home.
She asked me in. We talked for awhile. Then she sat down next
to me and we started kissing again. However, this time, I resisted
any inclination to touch her below the neck. I was a good boy.
After almost an hour of long, passionate kissing marked by her having to
stop a few times to catch her breath, I excused myself and went home.
I was confused during the entire
drive home. In fact, I was confused for the entire next week.
The following Sunday, she drove
to my place. At that time, I was sharing a nice bi-level suburban
home with another divorced guy. When she arrived, she looked disappointed.
Not only did she express her dislike concerning the hour long drive but
her dismay concerning my housing situation was obviously even more disconcerting.
She asked for a tour of the house. I showed her around. Since
my roommate and I are both neatnicks, the place was clean as a whistle
and neat as a pin. I even prepared a nice shrimp (she loves shrimp)
dinner for her including a bottle of wine and all the fixen's.
As we sat at the table, she asked
me if I liked to travel.
"I love to travel. In fact,
I've been all over the United States,
Canada, and even visited the Mideast for an eleven
day tour."
"Oh, good, I love to travel, too.
Now, how many weeks of vacation do you get from work each year?"
"Four." I responded.
"Wonderful. I have always
wanted to see....."
She went on to name cities and countries
all over the world. When I reminded her that I have children that
I like to see during the holidays and that I use several days of my vacation
time to extend weekends or take care of personal business, she looked disappointed.
"Well, then, you will be taking
me to those places the other two or three weeks of the year, won't you."
I didn't know what to say.
Finally, I simply uttered, "Well,
actually, I am still financially recovering from the breakup of my marriage
so it will be awhile before I'll be able to do any real traveling again."
Her expression became very sullen.
I cleaned up the table alone.
We sat on the sofa. She didn't
want to kiss like before. After a few moments, she announced that
she needed to go home.
She went home.
That's the last time I saw her.
She sent me a final e-mail to tell me that she thought I was "...a very
basic man and not her equal."
By the way, her personal ad on the
matchmaking site says that she is 48. She's not. She's 58. |
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© all rights reserved - 1/22/2002---
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