Before I begin this dating caper, let me say I was fortunate enough to marry a man who supported me in every way possible, as I attempted to move from a shy flower to a beautiful rose. Let me also say one should always remember a beautiful rose has thorns, which may be quite painful. What does one have to do with the other? We shall see in this, our newest dating seniors escapade.
I met a man online. Let’s call him Bob. Bob, on our first telephone conversation, asked me to go away for the weekend. I thought he was kidding. Having never even met the man, why on earth did he think this woman would go with him anywhere for longer than a couple of hours?
“Oh, my family is going. My son, his wife and my daughter,” he said, possibly as a way to make it seem like a great idea.
“Bob, I don’t kiss on the first date. So, going away with a total stranger, even if his family is there, is out of the question.”
“I won’t have any fun if you don’t go.”
“Since you don’t know me, you cannot be assured, by a long shot, that you would have fun if I did go. You don’t know if I am a shrieking fishwife or cool, calm and collected. And, frankly, I don’t know if your family is hiding the fact they are serial killers. So, no thanks.”
We opted for coffee at the local Shoney’s instead. He came in walking slow, which worried me right off the bat. Maybe I’m a brat, but after fifteen years of being a nurse/housekeeper/appointment keeper for two very ill people, I would really like a person who is not disabled. But, hey, if love is in the air, thoughts like that go out the window, right?
He was a talker, right up to the point of breaking in the couple of times I attempted to fill him in on my life. And when he wasn’t talking, he was answering not one, but two cell phones. Another nimrod with no manners once they get the mobile phone in their pocket. So far, this was not going well, but maybe it would improve. After two hours, we parted ways. In the parting, he assured me once more he would be miserable without me going away with him for the weekend.
He called that night to suggest meeting for lunch the following week.
“Okay, but if the cell phones ring once, I will be leaving the restaurant. I figure if the telephone is more important than us getting to know each other, then maybe you should date your cell phone.”
“Oh, remind me when we get there and I’ll turn it off.” Then he moved on to politics.
Anyone who knows me, knows I love to talk politics, with people who have open minds and can sanely discuss any subject without screaming, name calling, etc. Another no-no is insisting, without listening, that a person must be wrong if they hold different views.
From the beginning, he figured I was wrong, wrong, wrong, no matter what I said. That was proven when I actually agreed with him and he said I was wrong. That pretty much proved he was not listening, much less actively trying to understand my viewpoints.
Then, he came up with a beauty of a statement, “You just don’t worry your little head about politics; I’ll handle that.”
“Excuse me? I don’t need you or anyone else worrying about politics and anything else for me. Nor do I need you deciding that because I disagree with you, I must be totally wrong. I enjoy talking politics, but I dislike talking with a person who is totally close-minded.” Like I said, roses have thorns.
The next telephone call was to sympathize with me for all the hard work I had to do and how awful it must have been to take care of my husband the years before his death. I assured him that although those years were hard, it was more because I watched my husband suffer with being unable to speak, read, take his beloved classes in just about any subject because the stroke took those gifts from him. Yet he remained smiling and cheerful, because one thing Bru always did was try making things easier for his family. But caring for him? I felt it an honor to care for him, no matter what was required. I loved the guy and somehow, when you truly love a person, caring for them is not a burden.
He stepped away from the subject of my husband and moved on to my current situation where I care for my brother, who has renal failure. I assured him we were all handling it just fine, thanks to my daughter, who helps with her dad’s sweet smile on her face.
Once again, Bob decided to poo-poo that idea, because I was a little lady, who obviously could not care for myself. Strike TWO. I have been caring for my family for many years and doing a pretty darned good job of it. All bills are paid on time, doctor visits are made and kept. Food is always on the table – good food – and clothing always on their backs. To have someone, anyone, tell me I should just hand everything over to them…friends, that ain’t gonna happen. Obviously, Bob was not listening then either. Yet, I decided one more time, one more chance would come his way.
Last night was the time. He called to preach religion to me, assuring me my beliefs were wrong, wrong, wrong and that I must have gotten some disease that affected my brain, while living up North and in Florida. I laughed in his cell phone face and made a decision rather rapidly…he had just Struck OUT.
Assuring him I was not the person he needed, I told him good-bye.
“Why? I don’t know what I’ve done,” he said. Sadly, I believe he had no freaking clue.
“Well, Bob, when I first moved back here, I met a young man in a hardware store. At the time, I was installing a whole new bathroom in my brother’s home. That foolish fellow made the statement that ‘a woman in a hardware store is like a man in a lingerie store – neither belongs.’ I took $15,000 away from that store and spent it at one 30 miles away. The new store people understood that these days women can do just about anything and bring in a large percentage of the store’s profits. You are very much like that fool in the first store. You seem to think, right out of the ’40’s, that women still belong in the kitchen and bedroom and that their weak little brains could not possibly conceive of big world problems. So, I’m taking myself to another person. Hopefully somewhere, there is a man who has moved into this century and who can speak to me as an equal. You would never be that man.”
However, something good came out of this particular meeting…I found out why he had been divorced. He kept saying I was like his first wife. Right off the bat, that should have told me, there was a reason she left. It took a few conversations to understand, but the beauty of this rose is now shining through, and the thorns are once more hidden by the luxurious leaves on the stem of this dating senior.