A curious thing happened on the humid rainy afternoon of January 2nd. And I thought it augured well in my quest to find My Magnificent Man (MMM).
On Saturdays I help out at my local community garden. In the short time since ‘the Magic Tree Garden’ (as a call it) has become part of my life, it has brought me immense pleasure and peace. To do my garden duties I wear the daggiest clothes ever – washed out grey baggy cargos, well-worn t-shirts, scrappy sneakers. The only way I could have looked more daggy would have been if I was wearing my bleach stained t-shirts for cleaning the shower.
So I’m trundling down a side street, lost in my own thoughts as the rain was sprinkling, when a shortish man ran up behind me and stopped me.
‘Excuse me, um, you look really nice, could we have coffee some time?’ mumbled Andrew (as I found out his name was).
Immediately from looking at him, he did not pass my shag test. This is where I am going to sound shallow (for the first and not the last time here). When I first set eyes on a prospective man mentally I put him through a shag test. It consists of me imagining ‘could I have sex with this man and enjoy it?’. My intuition tends to be spot on with a Yes or No to the shag test, occasionally there is a bloke who turns up neutral with the shag test and he develops into a yes or no over time.
As I said earlier the above will make me seem shallow, however sex and the enjoyment of it with MMM is a high priority for me. So if a man doesn’t pass the shag test for me I don’t see the point in pursuing a romantic relationship with him. If a guy comes up neutral I think I would see how it goes.
Just to qualify – the men who pass my shag test are attractive to me. They’re not necessarily conventionally handsome men, just something about them gets my juices flowing. Although some of previous lovers would be in the universally attractive category; fond memories of the Swedish God and Brazilian dancer come to mind.
Andrew was exceptionally brave in his approach so although he did not pass the shag test, I agreed to have coffee with him the following Wednesday afternoon at a local café. Who knows he and I might have a lot in common and we could become friends? He persisted in trying to get my mobile number but I didn’t feel safe about that. I engineered it so I had his number but he didn’t have mine.
On Wednesday I was on time, he was a few minutes late. While waiting, a little nervously, I thought to myself if he doesn’t turn up I can cut my losses.
Our conversation started with that standard first-things-first ‘what do you do?’ Andrew’s answer ‘policeman’ surprised me. I had thought from his persistent asking he was in sales.
Andrew decided to guess what I did. He thought I worked in child care or something to do with health. Ha ha! Areas I would stay well clear of. I think there was a whole lot of projection going on there. He was a long way from the truth of business analyst (not working at the moment due to being retrenched but that is another story).
In my post-date review with my good friend Darla I said I think my face betrays me. Consistently different people have described my face as angelic, cherubic and sweet, it doesn’t give a hint of my hidden wildchild side. You know, the girl who will accompany her voyeur friend to a swingers club or will dance ’til dawn at the gay dance parties. No, my face keeps all of those secrets hidden. Perhaps I have a Dorian Grey gene?
As the date continued it became clearer how conservative Andrew was. Now my last boyfriend, Wade, was conservative. Wade had difficulties dealing with the diverse group that my friends are – gays, dancing friends that sometimes enter rooms through windows instead of doors, transsexuals, dole bludgers – how would an even more conservative guy handle that?
What I did appreciate is that I had managed to attract man who was interested in creating a life with someone and having a family. That was a pleasant change.
At the end of the date Andrew made it clear that he wanted to see me again. I didn’t commit to a yes or a no. I just said I had his number.
One of my closest male friends, Tony (who is also an ex), said that he would always prefer to know the exact reasons for his rejection. But how exactly do you say to a decent guy who is putting himself out there – we’re too different, I’m not who you think I am, you’re too conservative for me and you didn’t pass my shag test?
As my therapist says ‘Sometimes there is a gift in not knowing.’
No comments:
Post a Comment