Surprise!

When I last wrote here, I vowed to phone P, a somewhat younger man from Riverdale who had contacted me. I knew almost nothing about him, but called him anyway, in a sort of last-ditch spirit, a ditch-the-Match spirit. Or maybe it was because the last time a man six whole years younger contacted me was so long ago I felt ungrateful not to follow up. P was pleasant, a smooth-voiced guy who makes his living being upbeat and "positive"; turns out he is a Leader and Trainer for corporations, basically a cheerleader instilling motivation in workers or executives, not sure which. So we had a pleasant, upbeat and positive motivational conversation (which, you won't be shocked to hear, I tired of before he did). For instance, I confessed that I was weary of the dating scene, because of its highs (hopes) and lows (reality). Not at all, he said: the thing to do is take it as wonderful experience, neither very important nor unimportant. Or something like that. He also said we should all smile and laugh more. I'm sure he'd be good for overly-intense me (though I already smile and laugh plenty). But I just can't see it happening. So bye-bye P.

After not hearing back from O, the sweet guy from Brooklyn I saw last week who sensed at the end of our date that I wasn't going to be his next girlfriend, I decided to write to him and put things clearly. (I'm all for clarity, unless it's intended to hurt someone.) I explained that I liked him better than anyone so far, but not romantically, for lack of a better word. So could we keep in touch, email and maybe see each other as friends? Up to him. He wrote back that he'd had a crush on me before he saw me, and in person I was even better than he hoped. Sweet, just as he had been before I rejected him. You gotta love a guy like that (the man I dated longest on Match, a number of years ago, grew angry and mean when I ended things after five or six weeks of utter boredom, so I appreciate O's decency). Being friends may not work under these circumstances, but I'd like to give it a try. It's a pity I can't give O what he wants, but I just can't...I don't know if you've ever tried to make yourself feel something you should, but it seems beyond me.

Here's the surprise: after a long day in the library on Saturday, six hours to be exact, I was contacted by someone new: this would be Q, who is a writer and a retired editor of a journal, a few years older than I am, and quite decent-looking. He proposed dinner that night. Now this usually is a terrible idea: how many dinners have I suffered through with complete strangers about whom I know next to nothing? But because he lives in my neighborhood, and I was exhausted, and he proposed a Japanese restaurant which brought to mind a glass of ice-cold sake, I impulsively said yes.

And unexpectedly, I enjoyed the dinner (especially the sake) and I enjoyed him. He's smart, Harvard educated, gentle, a good conversationalist, and helps care for his one grandchild, who is disabled. My brain was too fried to worry about impressing him or whether he was someone I could like, so I just drank and relaxed. The next morning he sent an email saying he found me "fun, bright, interesting, and distinctly appealing sexually. Not a bad quartet on a summer evening." The reference to sexual appeal seemed a bit forward considering we've met once (what DOES this man have on his mind, I wonder?), but there's no question that the interest is more mutual than I've experienced in the past. Yet I don't feel at all neurotic about it: if I never saw him again, I'd be peachy. Even upbeat, positive, and motivated. Smile.