Good Advice

Honestly, I think I don't deserve to have a real boyfriend. I tried SO hard, I really did, to follow what the Advisory Board told me to do with Q last night: just relax, have fun, go for the kissing and the sex, and shut my brain down, not necessarily in that order. And it was a total bust. I'm beginning to buy that the problem is that there's Something Wrong With Me.

First, I didn't hear from Q until Friday morning, when he emailed that he had to cancel the movie but could meet me for a drink at 9 pm, since he's busy the whole weekend. The reason was plausible: he had to babysit for his grandchild while his son and daughter-in-law were working. I emailed that was fine, and we met for the drink on a lovely night. I had really wanted to break out of the sit-and-talk-while we eat/drink mode of meeting, followed by walking me to my apartment, where I would have to decide whether to invite him up or not, but there it was...again. The second time a plan that would have had us do something different was changed.

The troubles began, as Art Spiegelmann said in his cartoon book Maus, when I saw him as he walked down the street. It flashed on me that while he's not unattractive for a man his age(near 70), he's not exactly attractive (to me) either. Then came the drinks (2 for him, one for me) and conversation (again) for an hour and a half. It was very similar to -- actually at some points an exact repetition of -- the last two times we met, and it bored me a bit. Not unpleasant, really, but not the fun I was supposed to be having either. He's a bit deaf and the place was ridiculously loud for 9 pm, so there was a lot of "What?". Plus I don't think I've mentioned yet that he has a habit of making an odd whistling sound between his teeth while he talks. I found that annoying from the beginning, but hey, it's a tiny thing, right? Yet to my dismay, it annoyed me more than ever. Get over it, I told myself. Relax. Empty your brain. Drink. Enjoy yourself.

Worse than any of the above, he just doesn't seem to have a shred of humor, and in fact spent the evening unsmiling, and facing a quarter turn away from me. Was it hostile or rude of me to ask him, at one point, whether something was wrong because he didn't seem to smile much? Because the member of my Advisory Board I told this to gasped, "You mean you SAID that?" So I'm gathering that was a no-no. And in fact he seemed defensive, and said a bit testily he was in a good mood, actually. Oh.

Yes, reader, he walked me home. And I had already decided that I would kiss him if he was aggressive about it but I just couldn't, couldn't invite him up for more. But I was hoping he wouldn't try to kiss me. And he didn't -- we hugged as if we were casual friends and he left. This followed an hour and a half of looking at my cleavage with a stare so hard it could have opened the Red Sea. He has certainly seemed physically attracted. So the only explanation I can think of is that he was displeased with my remark or got the message that I wasn't responding the way I ought to. Talk about convoluted and absurd feelings.

Q may be done, I don't know. Though I would be relieved, I also feel that it's all my fault, and if I don't enjoy being with him I deserve to be alone all my life and never go to Italy with anyone, and that if Q is in fact not done and pursues me, I should humbly give it more tries and chances, and force myself to deal with his larval tongue. Because he is such a nice guy and good family man and so well-educated and emotionally mature and stuff. He should be a bargain for a neurotic episodically-lonely Older Woman like me.

How I wish a big scroll would descend from heaven and tell me what the right thing is to do here. Because I'm feeling somewhere between idiot and fool.