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Tuesday, Feb 9, 2010
Two nights later I was out with another guy from the same site. He bought me sushi and talked about art history (two of my favorite things), but the vibe between us fell flat. He seemed nervous and insecure. But I agreed to grab a nightcap with him at a bar in my neighborhood.
The guy from before was there, drinking with a friend. I wished I could be with him. I played the same Elvis Costello song on the jukebox that he had played on our date. He got the message, sent like some sort of postmodern smoke signal into the night. We've been together ever since.
-- Katherine Fried
HELL: I did a bad, bad thing
I like to read the personals, make a decision and ultimately do the contacting. Oh, I've had a number of men e-mail me, and most have been very nice, but I'm pretty clear about what I like at age 49. So, there was this great profile. He was 51, an executive, he lived in the city I grew up in, he was wearing a tux in his picture. I loved his "_____ is sexy; ______is sexier." He sounded wonderful.
I sent him a "I really like your profile" response, and he wrote back. He was an entertaining writer and could ease into sexy better than anyone I had ever met. He was charming right from the get-go. We began talking on the phone almost immediately. We sent each other interesting things -- DVDs, books, CDs, sex toys, underwear. It was all so much fun.
I loved this guy ... theoretically. His sexual imagination was unsurpassed. We could talk for hours, and he had a wonderfully intelligent, articulate, sensual voice. He really should be on radio, not in television as it turned out he was. He told he had been waiting all his life for someone like me. He made it clear that he would be upset if I were to go out with anyone else. Go out with anyone else? No way, this guy was all I needed! He used the L-word and was truly sincere and kind.
Our conversations continued for several months. We were too busy to travel and meet in person. But we made plans for him to come to my house for Thanksgiving. But as the day approached, I began to have misgivings. He would disappear for days at a time without calling. When we'd be on the phone for long stretches, there would be dozens of call-waiting interruptions. And the fact that he spent long periods of time signed on to the personals really made me wonder.
All of the above pushed me to do a very bad, bad thing, of which I'm not proud.
I created a fictitious personal ad and sent him a response. He replied almost instantly. He sent pictures, he made plans to meet her, I mean me, for dinner. I didn't want him to come for Thanksgiving. He got sick and didn't show anyway. I asked him if he still responded to women in the personals and he replied: "I do not have any romantic or physical relationships with any other woman, on any level." I knew better but couldn't bring myself to confess. But for reasons I can't explain, I allowed things to continue.
He continued to disappear, he continued to spend time on the personals. I needed to get out of this, but he was so persuasive and charming. I liked so much about him.
Then I did the other bad thing, or the same bad thing again.
I created this fabulous woman. The celebrity she resembled was Sophia Loren, she was a professor of history in a city near his, she was smart, very sexy, erudite, intellectual, funny. She loved lingerie and shoes and she was married.
You guessed it, he responded. He IM'd her -- I mean me -- and they/we talked for 45 minutes. He gave her/me his number, she/I called him and left a message, except it was a friend of mine who did the talking. He called her back. He told her he thought they were mental equals and had a lot in common. He asked her about sexual things. He was a lyin' weasel.
I told him he was dishonest and that it was over. Hey, I know, I know I was dishonest too. Right to the very end though, in the very last e-mail he said, "I was faithful to you for six months and I never even met you." That's when it hit me: He never intended to meet me. He's a personals junkie. He's a troll.
I spent a little time researching pathological liars and other various psychotic disorders and came to the conclusion that I was a fool. I became more dishonest than I can remember ever being. I deleted all personal ads and finally I understand that this guy, who seemed so heavenly, was a pathetic, sleazy, middle-aged loser.
-- Pamela Root
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