When Red Flags Hide Behind Perfect Dates
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After the Sunset I read Sara and Josh’s comments at least five times. “You can’t rush a relationship anymore than you can rush (flowers growing).” True that, my online friend.
I’ll admit though, patience is not my strong suit. I don’t have a timetable or agenda, but I also don’t want to waste my time. Sometimes it’s hard to give men the space they need - there is this underlying fear that you’ll become another pathetic story in He’s Just Not That Into You.
I also must confess that on the last date the intense physical chemistry was taken out on a little Test Drive- which brings another other layer of complications and expectations. I had no regrets in that regard, as I was starting to grow concerned there was nothing emotional there, just a lot of sexual tension. Let’s just say that concern was dispelled.
The plan for the following week was this: he was going to call and check-in early in the week, and I was to call him later in the week, on a day of my choosing, and we’d go to a private club in the South Bay, the idea to be as spontaneous as we could be (given he’s a workaholic and we’re separated by 50 miles). But he didn’t call. So I didn’t.
I had gone back to the advice on Waiting for the call. Again, Josh’s words of “it’s absolutely vital you do not take the initiative” rang true, and let’s not forget I told him last time – no calls, no Serendipity. You have to live what you say or you words are never taken seriously. I stayed chill for a week. There was no doubt in my mind he would reach out – but my guard was back up big time, and mentally, I put him back at square one.
By Sunday he was emailing, and by Monday – after a lukewarm response from me – he started pulling his head out of his ass. I was happy to see that patience had paid off, and he asked me out for last Wednesday night. He re-confirmed twice as if he was afraid I wouldn’t show, and his communication picked up significantly. I should have been happy, but I felt like I was playing games and it had worked.
The Wednesday date was incredible. He looked gorgeous and I was dressed to kill, the venue was romantic, the conversation, again effortless. He surprised me by calling me to the mat within 10 minutes of arriving.
“Serendipity, I know you were mad that I didn’t call last week, and that’s why you blew off our plans. I get it, ok? But please don’t play games. Please. I’m crazy about you. I missed you – even more than I thought I would. You’re convinced I didn’t care, but in fact, I thought of you every day. Even emailed my best friend with your pics, and bragged about how you used to be a rocket scientist. I just want to take things slowly, I think we have a real shot at something real here. Make me a promise, ok? If you are upset with me over something I did or didn’t do, please just tell me so I can fix it. No games.”
I was stunned. It was – again – the refreshing, direct and brutally honest dialogue that had me hooked on this guy from minute #1 on our first date. We talked openly and about everything – for hours. Once again, all the patrons left and it was just us tucked into the corner. We were smitten, like two complete dorks we couldn’t stop smiling and kissing. He extended more compliments than I could possibly digest, and if the guy could have eaten me alive with his eyes, he would have.
I could tell he was showing me a lot more of himself. He was insecure about the Test Drive, uncertain that he met my expectations. He confessed, I was his perfect type – physically, intellectually, emotionally - but unclear if I found him as attractive. At first I found this adorable and intimate, but soon, I felt something different creep into my mind.
In the book Blink, there is a story about experts examining an ancient statue. The statue has all the credentials and looks to be 100% legitimate, verified by multitudes before them. But a few in the group just had a gut feeling – what they were seeing wasn’t what it was supposed to be. They couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, it was just something - something wasn’t quite right. This guy was too good to be true. He says exactly what I want to hear, is exactly what I want in a man.
I felt this phenomenon from Blink. Under the soft lightening and perfect evening, the restaurant abandoned except for us in a dark corner, I flashed to The Defendant. My ex-husband, the master manipulator. He swept me off my feet like this. Oh God. That man has destroyed my life, my belief in everything.
But Mr. Perfect Date had slipped off my shoe and began kissing my feet. Surprised, I smiled coyly. “You have a foot fetish” I said. He said, “Is that too weird”? No. I found it adorable. I forgot my sinking feeling and surrendered to the moment.
The night ended demurely. There was no need to rush things, as we had made tentative plans to go wine-tasting on Sunday. I was back to being giddy and excited.
Perhaps he was, as his best friend described him, socially retarded, and thus I should give him a little leeway. Perhaps he’s just more himself in-person. Perhaps he’s just the insecure boy who got over-looked in high school, gorgeous and ridiculously successful later in life, but still unsure of himself.
But this date, like all the others – was too perfect, almost choreographed. Then nothing from him for over a week – not once, but twice. Odd. I couldn’t shake it. I had married and divorced a man just like this, these incongruent events, it was a warning sign. Shit, was it my old baggage coming into play and sabotaging something that was good? Or was I ignoring my gut instinct? I decided to let it ride. Whatever would happen, I would take him at his word – no more games. For me, I had to take the chance.
Agree? Disagree?