“Huh? Back your truck up, what did you say? I’m 42 and that makes me too YOUNG?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve always been attracted to older women, like my ex-wife and since you’re a few years younger than me, I don’t think it can work. You’re everything a man could want: you’re beautiful, funny, sweet, and sexy but I guess I’m looking for someone like my ex. I’m sorry, I really am.”
This was the shocking ending of an idyllic new relationship with a man I met online, leaving me in a state of confusion for several weeks.
The first date couldn’t have followed a better script if I’d written it myself. We met on a beautiful early spring Friday evening. He chose a nearby restaurant as a meeting place and when I first saw him, I was very pleased, he seemed likewise. He was cute in a really simple way, not fussy – he was a polo shirt and jeans kind of guy. He owned his own business and had a very easy charm about him but in no way pretentious. He was easy to talk to, funny and warm. His young son was the center of his life and his divorce was still an obvious open wound.
Yet, he seemed sincere about wanting to find love and to spend time getting to know me. It felt immediately comfortable being with him, we shared stores, laughed and my initial hesitation about him was allayed within a few minutes of being with him. Between bites of our cheeseburgers he hinted about how he was attracted to me and how perfect this was as a first date. It made me smile in a sweet and innocent schoolgirl way.
After dinner, we took a short walk to the nearby outdoor shops and enjoyed the emerging spring weather as we walked hand in hand. We found ourselves seated on a park bench and abruptly decided to make a dash back to our cars before the rain. Unfortunately, we miscalculated a little and got a little wet as we dashed for the shelter of his truck. He teasingly acted like he was going to keep me locked outside. His heater on full blast provided the warmth and dryness we both needed as the cute, romantic moment led to our first kiss, well… several first kisses, truth be told.
The percussion of the thunder and the gentle beating of the raindrops were the perfect background noise for gentle kisses as our arms wrapped around each other. His moustache tickled me as our mouths explored each other in several long, romantic kisses. After we broke from kissing, we looked deeply into each other’s eyes, still a little wet from the rain, yet warming up very quickly now.
We were frozen in each other’s gaze as his hand held mine, sweetly. We chuckled to clear the awkwardness as we transitioned to conversation again, seamlessly. We spent about an hour talking and kissing, steaming up the windows of his truck. The rain started to subside and it was getting very late.
As we were saying goodbye, he asked if I had plans the next day and did I want to go to a festival with him. I couldn’t wait to see him again, so I enthusiastically accepted. We kissed goodnight and made plans for the next day. As I drove home, I’m not sure how my feet hit the pedals, I felt light as a feather, smiling and singing happily.
The next day, he picked me up and we went to the festival, walking hand in hand, playfully walking from booth to booth, laughing and munching on warm cinnamon sugar almonds and hot coffee. It felt like we had known each other forever and it couldn’t have been more perfect. We went back to his house, snuggled on the couch with a movie, kissed and touched passionately. In his arms, I felt safe, warm and comfortable. He was attracted to me yet was a true gentleman.
The night flew by and he took me back to my house with a passionate kiss in my driveway.
In my experience of dating, I’ve never had a first date and then a second date the very next day. It couldn’t have gone any better, well until he became distant right after. Well, that and the bomb he dropped about me being too young or maybe even not enough like his ex-wife.
I never dreamt that I’d hear I was too young at 42 for a man who was just a couple years OLDER than me. Hey, I guess it’s a better reason than, “It’s not you, it’s me”, but it still hurt all the same.