"I'm A Very Sexual Person"

So, I was strong-armed into joining a ridiculous dating service which, upon first glance, seemed reputable, but in hindsight (and a few google searches that led me to the Better Business Bureau, later) is clearly a complete sham. My mother, as she along with my sister, watches the years and my clock tick away, was determned to find me a husband...and she truly believed this service was the way to do it. I hesitantly agreed, after being wooed by overzealous sales people promising love and my "happily ever after". As if. Do people still say "as if"? After plunking down a big enough chunk of change to buy a couple of Louis purses (which, in retrospect would have been money much better spent), my "dating coordinator" called to set me up with my first match....who, she promised, was "just perfect" for me! Needless to say, he wasn't. The guy didn't even bother to button his shirt to meet me, leaving what appeared to be his undershirt, on full display. This definitely couldn't be The One. Sham dating service: strike one.

My dating coordinator extremely overly excitedly called with my next match, who was also "just perfect" for me. Upon meeting him I was blindsided by his Cartier Love bracelet, Louis Vuitton belt and borrowed (from his employer) Aston Martin. He seemed refined, low key, with a good sense of humor and style...and, while he didn't look like anyone who would ever turn my head, there was an attraction. Must have been the roar of the 12 cylinders that was getting me going. Arrghhh!! I'm not supposed to be wooed by the wrong things anymore... I'm supposed to have learned this lesson already... but sparkly things continue to catch my eye... and mesmorize me, though always only temporarily...until that sparkle inevitably flickers out.

We seemed to hit it off that night. He asked for my number, texted me (the new calling) the next day and asked me out again. I saw him the following day, and from then on he texted and/or called me every day. Apparently, when this happens I am supposed to see a huge red flag waving before me. Instead, as usual, I loved the attention and ate it up with my usual verve. Our third date, the following week, ended on my couch, with apparent chemistry and unexpectedly passionate kisses. He just didn't seem the type. Never judge a book... Before tongues started to roam beyond faces, I made him leave. He was still very attentive...contacting me each and every day. "How nice", I thought. He likes me, I like him, and I appreciate the straightforward approach, as opposed to that waiting for three days to call juvenile crap.

Our fourth date in only two weeks ended on his couch. Again, intense passion ignited...he was with me, after all, and apparently I'm quite a looker....if you like my look, that is. He mentioned something about me trying to seduce him!?!... which, of course, I was not trying to do. Just because I'm straddling you on the couch and showering you with the best kisses you've ever tasted, IN NO WAY means that I am trying to seduce you. If you happen to feel seduced by my salacious-ness... well, that's on you. What part of "tease" do you not understand? I had no intention of letting him do anything beyond kissing the Kissing Bandit. I've only known this guy for two weeks. Did he really think because he picked me up in a car that costs more than my apartment and fed me four times I was going to sleep with him?...or do anything close to sleeping with him? Clearly, he had no idea who he was dealing with.

After he asked me repeatedly to "stay over", and told me how much he liked having me there and how he just wanted to make me "feel good", I knew it was time to go home. When he actually spewed the words "I want to make love to you", I knew it was time to get out of there, and quick. Make love to me? You don't even know my middle name...how much can you love me? Enough was enough. If he couldn't just enjoy being in my presence and kissing the Bandit, well...there was clearly nothing more I could do for him at that juncture.

He walked me out to my car and asked me to text him when I got home so he knew I was home safely. I said, "Okay". Then, as I was about to get into my car, he said, "I'm a very sexual person and we have great chemistry together". I suppose it was as if the words just didn't register, or I couldn't comprehend them. All I could muster at that moment was a confused, deer-in-the-headlights look of stunned miscomprehension. And with that, he retreated into his cave and I drove home. Not really realizing or understanding what had just happened, I actually texted him when I got home. He never texted back. Or called. Ever again. Sham dating service: strike two.

And I was stupid enough to think he was "refined", as I described him to my friend. When will I learn? They say hindsight is 20/20. I guess that's because sometimes it's not until you're looking back that you can see that a scruffy Cuban from New Jersey who still plays video games at 37, drives a Honda, thinks hot dogs and macaroni and cheese are gourmet fare, and has absolutely no discernable social graces is far more refined than a Cartier and Louis wearing, Aston Martin driver ever could be. I suppose when I can recognize that in front of me, as opposed to in hindsight, I will have learned. Until then, I am trying to keep my eyes wide open. But sometimes the sparkles still make me blink.