Chapter 2: Rules of Engagement

“I am committed to no commitment for the next six months,” I repeated over and over in my head while I stare at my messy hair and my lean, naked body in the mirror. My eyes scanned my exposed skin with discernment; looking for some flaw that I could laser focus on. 

That is when our gazes met, me and my reflection, and I repeated the mantra, “look at your whole self, not just the parts you don’t like”. 

I took a big deep breath while I took in my entire being.  I saw myself differently now.  Not just a collage of unworthy pieces. 

I saw my smile, my eyes, my spirit, my accomplishment, my drive, my hard work.  I saw me.  

I made my way back to my bedroom and looked around; random shoes on the floor, stuffed animals under mountains of pillows, all remnants of my kids sprinkled around the room. “I need to clean this room up”, I thought to myself.

But I am easily distracted by the beauty of the day and the excitement that it brings. It was 9am but the sun was high and lighting up my bedroom as I searched through my unorganized draw of workout wear.  I had a big day ahead of me.  Work was super slow at the moment.  I had just accepted a  couple of producing jobs for two TV shows that would be starting in two weeks.  With my kids back in school full time, I was excited for a steady paycheck and getting back to a daily routine.  I knew that life as I knew it would change significantly, so I wanted to enjoy my last two weeks of freedom. That is why I had scheduled two dates for this beautiful Monday. 

I scheduled the dates before I had decided to “date without commitment”, a term that was introduced to me by Mr. Grey; a hometown hottie who was the founder of the philosophy “Dating in the Grey”.  The concept was to actively date for six months, allowing myself the time to get to know the people I was dating.  The name referred to the grey space that existed between the ideas of being single and being committed. It was a concept that was new to me, but it was old news to Mr. Grey.  He was a professional multi-dater; something that both scared me and enticed me all at once.  I was committed to this process but still was trying to figure out what my “Rules of Engagement” should be.  By that, I mean the guidelines to navigate a dating world that does not involve commitment.  At this point, I didn’t have any clue what kind of “rules” I should create for myself, but I figured they would eventually come to me as I move through the dating process. 

I glanced at the clock, it was getting late and I still wasn’t ready for my date with the Lifeguard.  This would be our third date, the first two taking place at a high-end grocery story where we drank coffee and shared watermelon.  He was younger than me, but the same age as Mr. Grey.  His online profile said that he was an art director and his affinity for retro 80s style confirmed his creative identity.  The two times we had met previously, he never arrived without a fanny pack.  He was really into organic, healthy food and he worked as a lifeguard to supplement his income during the summer months.  He was tan, just as a Lifeguard should be.  He had striking blue eyes that gleamed through his brown skin.  His hair was shaggy brown with blonde sun kissed tendrils throughout.  I was excited about getting to know him better and potentially being kissed by this mustached man.  

I threw on a cute pair of bike shorts, a matching sports bra and a shirt to cover up my voluptuousness.

I looked at myself in the mirror.  I looked good for being 42.  My hair was the color of copper; reddish brown hues with the sun turning the ends as orange as a sunset. 

I had the body that looked like I was 20 years old from afar but still had the reminders of childbirth just below the surface.

I was what many considered a “classic beauty”.  My large brown eyes were a product of my middle-eastern roots.  My smile was the replica of my mother’s; she would light up a room with that smile.  I missed her.  I am a lot like her. I never wore much makeup and didn’t have the slightest clue how to contour.  I always considered my face to be my best asset because of the symmetry of my features.  

“Sexy”, that is how most people describe me.  I know why they see that in me. A flash of my smile, the locking stare that only confidence inspires, I knew how to turn it on. 

As I wandered around the house, gathering the things I needed for my date, I reflected on my life.  Five years post divorce,  I have finally created a life that doesn’t deplete me.  I have friends, hobbies, interests and a successful career to keep me busy and happy.  I was in a good place.  I felt confident with who I was and self assured about where I was headed.  It felt like a good time to explore and really know myself.  That is why I decided to “date in the grey”; because I wanted do something different and give myself the opportunity to find true love.

And today’s exploration was a hike date with the Lifeguard.

I was meeting him at Malibu Canyon State Park, a popular hiking spot that was halfway between the beach and the valley.

I got in my car and drove down the curvy mountain road. 

When I arrived at the trailhead, I parked in the loose gravel along the street.  I could see him standing at the base of his Toyota Tacoma pickup truck. He looked different but the same.  HIs hipster mustache was hiding any emotion from his face.  He wore sweatpants, a t-shirt and his signature fanny pack.  This was our third date and I was hoping that I could get to know him better so I could determine whether we have any emotional chemistry.   That should be my first rule of engagement…

Rule #1 of “Rules of Engagement”

1. Only date people who I have emotional and physical chemistry

I definitely had physical chemistry with the Lifeguard but the emotional chemistry was still to be determined.  During our two previous dates, the conversation flowed but I wouldn’t say it was easy.  There was a slight hesitation within him and it shined through his body movements.  He often hid behind things; his sunglasses, his mustache, his fanny pack. I was hoping that he would open up a bit on our hike and allow me to see what parts he was hiding. 

As I got out of my car, I bent over the front seat while I collected my things.  I could feel his eyes on me and I smirked to myself, seduction was so easy.  I grabbed my sunglasses and put them on before I turned around and flashed him my biggest and brightest smile.  I could tell the attention made him uneasy because he looked away when I offered him my gaze.  

“Hi. How are you?”, I said cheerfully. 

“Hey, you ready to hike?”, he replied.  

We started walking down a dirt path that was lined with chest high, wheat-like grass.   The trail disappeared with its twists and turns behind the tall grass.  In the distance, you could see that we were surrounded by a mountain range.  The tall peaks created a Bob Ross-worthy landscape.  The sun was high and the temperature was hot.  Between the large stretches of grass, we would pass charred trees that have miraculously come back to life.  They looked like they were straight out of a Tim Burton film; dark, mysterious and warped from the changes in environment. I charged ahead on the path while the Lifeguard diligently followed me.  As we came upon a canopy of trees, he stopped to admire the species of plant.  

“This is my favorite tree”, he said.  I was intrigued that he had a favorite tree and so I inquired about his plant passion.  He explained that he was a “Natruralist”.  He worked at summer camps as a counselor and taught the campers about nature and survival in the wilderness.  As I listened about the differences in plant leaves, I debated whether dating a “naturalist” was sexy.  I toggled between thinking he was just an aged-out camp counselor and if his love for all plants and all things natural was a sign of emotional intelligence.  

We continued walking down the dusty trains and every time he stopped to admire a plant, I thought he was going to plant a kiss on me.  However,  he simply stared off at the sky and avoided my gaze entirely.  I was confused by him.  He seemed interested in me because he kept pursuing me.  However, when we were together, he could barely look at me.  I figured that this would be our last date since clearly, he was terrified of me. 

A lot of men are terrified of me, that is what makes me a target for only the most confident. Usually I end up with narcissists which is a pattern I have been trying to avoid.  I was pretty sure that the Lifeguard was not a narcissist which meant I was headed in the right direction.  Maybe he will become more comfortable with time?  I wanted to give him a chance and see what lies beneath that distracting fanny pack; but he wasn’t making it easy.

As we approached an opening in a field, we entered the former filming location for the show MASH.  In the distance, I could see 10 picnic tables lined up under a barrack looking tarp.  I approached a retro ambulance that looked to be newly refurbished. My kid-like curiosity took over as I investigated this vehicle.  The inside was rugged and consumed by exposed metal.  There was a rusted steering wheel and a hard, metal bench seat that was big enough for two small people.  The back of the antique ambulance was empty, with a small seat over the wheel well.  The tailgate was open to the air outside.  My hand grabbed the door handle, convinced that inquisitive people like me would be locked out.  The door opened easily and a look of excitement came across my face.  I got into the metal vehicle and made room for the Lifeguard.  As I looked at him, his face was bewildered.  The good news was that he was finally looking at me.  The bad news was that he was completely frozen in his tracks; unable to decide what to do.  I smiled again, hoping my pearly whites would entice him to take a closer look.  Nope.  Still stuck. I felt like I was training a puppy.  

“Are you gonna come inside?”, I asked him as I opened the door and patted the seat next to me.  

“Are you sure you are allowed to do be in there?”, he asked reluctantly as he slowly started walking towards me.  

“I don’t see anything that’s going to stop me”, I said.  

It is funny how my approach changes depending on the man I am with.  Normally, I would never be so forward because I am trying to play defense during the intense pursuit of a man.  But with the Lifeguard, I had to be inviting and forward since he was clearly clueless.  It was a fun role to play and a role that I don’t have much experience with.  However, I felt powerful, sexy and in control; all feelings that I made me feel like a powerhouse woman. 

The Lifeguard slowly inched closer to the car, like a terrified animal approaching a watering hole knowing he may get eaten at any point. 

“Wow. This is pretty cool”, he said as he slowly started to get into the vehicle.  

I scooted over so he could sit next to me, thinking this would be a perfect place for our first kiss.  He entered the vehicle and immediate made a dash for the cargo area in the back.  Weird.  Maybe he is just not into me? 

We sat inside the vehicle for a while; chatting about the mechanics of the car and our personal experience with the show MASH. 

My body was twisted so that I could look at him from the front seat.  He was sitting on the small seat on the wheel well. 

I had lost his gaze and he was now talking to the side of the truck.  This might be a very long hike and an even longer date. 

When the conversation dulled, I turned around to see what was going on outside.  I saw two handsome men walking toward me with their shirts off.  The buffness of their bodies, the shortness of their shorts and the precision in their hairstyles were all convincing signs that they were not into women.  I caught eyes with one of them as they turned the corner and glanced at the vehicle.  He jumped in the air and screamed like a small child; startled by the sight of a woman waving to him from the front seat of a dilapidated ambulance.  I laughed as I exited the car.  
“Sorry I scared you,” I said with a smile.  

“I wasn’t expecting to see anyone inside!” He responded, with humor and slight embarrassment.  

Lifeguard and I decided to turn around and start heading back towards where we parked.  Along the way, he continued to bore me with his chatter about plants and leaves.  The only useful thing I heard was when he spotted poison oak.  No one wants to leave this date with a poison oak parting gift, I knew that for sure! Once again, he stopped to admire yet another favorite tree.  I just starred at him.  I didn’t care about trees or leaves. I just wanted this date to be over.  

“What are you doing?”, I asked him as he stared at the sky and was completely mute. 

“I am wondering how to kiss you.”, he said. For the first time this entire date, I started at him in surprise.    

“Do you want to kiss me?” I asked him  

“Yes, but I don’t know what to do cause it’s covid and I don’t know if you want to and…..” I shut him up by pressing my soft lips against the lower part of his mustache.  I could feel him shiver. I pulled away for a brief second so he could catch his breath.  I looked at him. He stood like a statue, eyes closed, waiting.  A slight smile crossed my lips while I slowly approached him again, making sure to go so slow that he could feel my breath before I even touched him.  A slight peck of his lips, a breathy retreat and then another peck.  I could feel him loosen up and succumb to me. I put my hands on his chest, feeling his hard body beneath his t-shirt as I pressed my lips to his and slowly opened my mouth, teasing him with my tongue.  He followed my lead like he had been during our hike. He started pressing the lower part of his body against mine and I could feel his arousal.  I pressed myself against him, teasing him with my kisses.  When I felt a rhythm in his lower body pulse, I pulled away.  I wasn’t gonna make it easy for him because I wasn’t interested in a destination; I was interested in the journey.  And that journey comes with anticipation, seduction, teasing and many things that cannot be listed in the PG-13 version of this blog.  

“Wow”, he said when I started walking away to continue our hike, “that was incredible”. 

“You think so?”, I said coyly.  

“Um, yeah. I think so” he said, as he adjusted his fanny pack to cover his noticeable erection. 

Kissing him was better than trying to talk to him.  As we made our way back and continued down the trail, he opened up more about his life.  He told me that he wanted to start an Air BnB business and was currently being mentored to make it happen.  The lifeguarding season was ending at the conclusion of summer so he was probably going to take a job as a bartender at a new bar in Venice.  “So much for Art Directing”, I said to myself.  

The sun was high in the sky and the heat was starting to become unbearable. I looked off into the distance while I wiped sweat from my brow and I saw a running stream.  

“Ugh, I wish we could go jump in there”, I said.

As soon as I said it, there was a turnoff from the main path with a sign that said “Damn” with an arrow.  In hopes of making my water dreams come true, we followed the sign to a small pond shaded by the span of the Lifeguards “favorite trees”.  I thought about jumping in the water but my Floridian water sense stopped me.  The pond was still and there was no wildlife anywhere to be seen; two disturbing signs of unsafe waters.  Instead of jumping in the water, we stood next to it.  I checked my phone and realized we had hiked 5 miles so far and decided that was grounds for a break.  I sat on the dusty ground and drank water from the canteen I brought.  Once again, the Lifeguard was back to treating me like a dangerous plague and stayed an arms length away.  I didn’t care.  I wasn’t a woman who need validation in men.  I knew my worth.  

I stood up and dusted myself off, getting ready to complete the final trek of our hike.  That is when the Lifeguard had a stream of confidence and came close to me. He hovered over me, as if he was waiting for me to make the next move.  I needed no invitation and I picked up where we left off; kissing him slowly and passionately while I pressed my tight body against his.  The fanny pack had drifted to his hip and I could feel his excitement grow.  Suddenly, he pulls away.

“I think I am going to ejaculate”, he says out of nowhere. 

A look of shock and disgust crossed my face as I pushed him away from me.

“Go stand over there and calm down”, I said without thinking.  

As he stood there, he shifted his fanny back over his groin and stared at the ground, like a naughty puppy that just shit in the house.  I made my way to a nearby picnic table .  I asked him if he wanted some water which he graciously accepted.  As I took the water bottle from him, I could feel him approaching me as I sat on the top of the picnic table.  He came closer for more kisses and I tentatively kissed him, trying not to be so seductive that he would instantly climax.  He wedged his body between my legs and moved the fanny pack back to his hip.  We started with a slow grind of simulation which quickly turned into a jack hammer type movement that was a total turnoff.  As his movement became more feverish, I kept pushing him away; telling him with my eyes that he needs to be a man and control himself.  Apparently, he was not picking up on my eye signals and returned to his gentle jack hammer again.  The sound of voices gave me a good excuse to push him away and I urged him to take a seat while he calmed himself down.  

“You almost made me cum in my pants”, he said.  

Those words were like vomit as they left his lips, spraying a disgusting and smelly mess all over my vibe.  

I was eager to leave this secluded environment with this thirty something teenager, so I continued down the trail until we found our cars parked on the side of the road.  There was a bubble of uncomfort that surrounded us; like an elephant in the room.  When we met in this very spot, I thought that his fanny pack was hiding something emotionally evolved, but now I knew, it was strategically placed to hide his erection. While he may not be a narcissist, he definitely had zero game when it came to dating women.  If my first rule of engagement was that I had to have both physical and emotional chemistry with a man; with Lifeguard, I now knew that I had neither.   I knew I had to cut him loose and needed to figure out a way to do it without damaging his immature ego.  

As I drove home, I felt compelled to tell someone about my disaster of a date so I called Mr. Grey who was currently in our hometown visiting his best friend.

Mr. Grey and I were becoming fast friends and lovers. 

With the other men I was dating, I have to slowly introduce the idea of “Dating in the Grey” and hope they are on board with my commitment to no commitment.  But with Mr. Grey, he was the founder of this idea so there were no surprises between us. 

My perception of him changed the minute he took the pressure of a relationship off the table.

Even though we had only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, we had spent hours on the phone while he was out of town; talking about everything and nothing all at once. Since we grew up in the same hometown, we had a level of trust and understanding. 

I didn’t know what he was becoming and since I wasn’t committing to anything; I didn’t have to know.  Or at least, that is what I told myself each time I tried to figure him out and put our relationship in a proverbial box. 

The controlled confidence he possessed was still there.  It was unwavering.  Initially, I thought it was an act; a front to cover up his gaping insecurities.  As I waited for his red flags to surface, I was enjoyed getting to know him, even though I was constantly waiting for him to transform into a monster that I had seen so many times before.  

As I listened to the ringing of the phone, I was snapped back into reality by the sound of his voice.

“Hey there, how was the date?”, he said in his deep, slight southern twang that reminds me of home.  

“Oh my god. It was terrible.” I replied with a chuckle.  

“Oh no, what happened?”, he inquired. 

“I kissed him and it almost made him orgasm….literally.” I said as I started to laugh, ““He said, You almost made me ejaculate” that is a direct quote!  I had to have him take a break twice!!”, I began laughing uncontrollably as the words spilled out of my mouth.  

“Oh my god. That guy has no game.”, Mr. Grey said.  

Mr. Grey knows game, he is a wizard at it.  He has a rulebook that he follows; one that I witness as a fly caught inside his sexual web.  He subscribes to the ideology that dating more people creates less attachment.  He dates a lot of women and can woo them into bed with his charm and charisma on the first encounter.  Many times, his first dates start at his apartment with an invitation of dinner and wine.  His boyish good looks make you feel like he is a safe choice but his experience in the bedroom proves otherwise.  Because of this, women fall for him hard and fast.  He gives you just enough of himself to entice you, to make you want him but follows it with a reminder that he doesn’t belong to you.  This push/pull effect is what keeps women wanting him; myself included.  He is calculated in his approach and knows that he can’t ever give too much because if he did, he would be just like every other man in this world.  His purpose is to stand out, to be something different, to not fit into the norms of society.  This quality is what makes him so interesting.  Most of the time, he is philosophical in his thinking and wise beyond his years, but it is followed by a hard smack on the ass and a filthy sexual demand that reminds you that he is not 80 years old.  Sometimes, I feel like I am playing with fire.  I wonder if I will walk out of this burned and blistered. But something about him made me keep coming back for more. As I hung up the phone with Mr. Grey, I felt my inner push happening.  Although I loved the friendship that we were building, I needed to detach because I still had another date tonight and I did not want my thoughts to be consumed by him.  

Rule #2 of “Rules of Engagement”

2.  Date multiple people so that you do not become attached to one. 

As I left the Malibu mountain range, I drove down the twisty road until I reached my home. The hike ate up a large majority of my day but  I had a few hours before my date which would give me enough time to clean up the kid clutter around the house.  I was excited to meet The Producer. We had matched online and spoke on the phone once.  He explained that he owned an ad agency and was originally from New York.  He was 56 which is a lot older than the men I typically date; however, he had youthful good looks and a great smile so I was willing to give him a chance. Since we were both in the same business, we had a lot to talk about. He seemed to be well-mannered and polite because he suggested that we meet in Sherman Oaks, a considerable distance from his home in Manhattan Beach.  He had made a reservation at a restaurant that I frequented often because they had a second location near my home.  

I peeled off my sweaty workout wear and haphazardly threw them in the laundry basket.  I let my skin air out in the coolness while I started the shower.  As the tiny bathroom heated up and filled with steam, I climbed into the shower and started rinsing the dust and sweat off of my body, using a loofah to lather up every crease and crevice.  While I rinsed off all the suds, I thought about what I wanted to wear for my date.  I wanted to look classy but comfortable.  Something sexy but nothing that sends the wrong message.  I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around me and left drippy footprints as I made my way to my closet.  

I looked through the cluster of hangers that carried all of my favorite maxi dresses. 

I chose an olive green strapless maxi dress from a nearby hanger. 

I stepped into it and wiggled it up my body until it was perfectly placed. 

 I made my way back to the bathroom that was still damp from my shower.  I rustled through my makeup bag, looking for my 5 staple items that I use to get glam. As I applied my makeup and curled my hair, I checked the time.  It was a 30 minute drive to the restaurant in Sherman Oaks and I was running perfectly on schedule.  

I went to the car and searched for the restaurant name in google maps.  As I sped down the highway, I reminisced about how nice it was to be traffic-free during Covid.  LA was notorious for traffic and it was often the most stressful part of living here.  Speeding tickets were uncommon since moving over a snails pace was an anomaly.  Luckily, the traffic was light and I was able to make it to the restaurant with plenty of time. 

As I parked my car, I receive a text from The Producer. 

“Here” it said. 

I got out of my car and made my way inside the restaurant, scanning the tables for a familiar face.  I didn’t see him.  Was I being catfished?  Maybe he looks waaaaayyyy different than his profile photos. Since half the restaurant was staring at me as I stood in the doorway, I decided to go outside and text him, “Where are you?”. 

He immediately replied, “at the bar”. 

I looked at the bar and there was no one that remotely resembled him.  I was confused. 

“I don’t see you”, I responded.

He replied, “are you at the Woodland Hills location?”, shit. 

I went to the wrong place!!  Even though he sent me the reservation, I didn’t check the location since we talked about meeting in Sherman Oaks.  I briskly walked to my car and called him while I started the engine.  “I went to the wrong location.  I am so sorry.”.  “Stay there, I will come to you”, he offered but I declined since the Woodland Hill’s location was minutes from my house. 

I raced back down the freeway until I arrived, the exact location I passed on my way to the wrong place.  I entered the restaurant and took a lap around the bar, searching for him and being unsuccessful once again.  I walked up to the hostess and told her that I was meeting The Producer and she showed me to a dark corner table in the back of the restaurant.  He was sitting down so I joined him at the table.  He looked like his photos from the front, with dark hair, dark eyes and a shining smile.  I could tell he was a bit nervous but he was used to hiding it behind his confident New Yorker exterior.  He was a bit short and stocky, with a firm belly that his shirt hid well. As I took him in, he began shuffling the menus.  He was a ball of nervous energy.  The waitress came over and asked us what we would like to drink.  Since he had been waiting a while, I asked him what he was having.  Still flustered, he said, “margarita” as if he just pulled it right out of his ass at that moment.  I smiled at the waitress and said that I would have the same.  The Producer looked at me and smiled, which I took as a good sign.  I tried to scoot closer to him and diminish the 4 feet of distance between us but when I moved closer, he moved away.  Apparently I had that affect on men. 

He felt comfortable in chatter because he took the opportunity to start talking endlessly.  He told me about how great of a golfer he was and name dropped all of the private and exclusive courses he had access to.  He explained how he was a surfer and bragged about how close he lived to the beach.  I sat patiently with a smile stuck on my face.  My eyes showed how painful I found this conversation to be.  HIs constant personal pep talk was overwhelming and left little room for me to get a word in. He didn’t ask me anything about myself and if he did, he quickly interrupted me to pivot the conversation back to him.  He wanted to impress me by painting a portrait of himself that was far more grande than the reality of his position.   I asked him about his job and how he faired during covid.  His response surprised me.  He started to squirm in his chair as he explained his joblessness during Covid.  He continued to tell me how he didn’t actually have a production company but rather, worked in sales for a company who produces content.  It was a bait and switch moment that turned me off entirely.  That is when I determined rule #3

Rule #3 of “Rules of Engagement”

3.  Only date men who are honest and do not misrepresent themselves

Lying was a non-negotiable for me, but at this moment, I needed to get through this date so we ordered a second round of drinks which prompted more vulnerability from this self-absorbed man. The alcohol was allowing him to be more comfortable and he began to confide in me about his most recent relationship.  He described a former life with a longtime girlfriend whom he helped raise her son.  The ending of the relationship prompted his move across country where he sold all of his belongings and started over in LaLa land in his early 50s.  The story made me feel sorry for him.  While I give him credit for being brave enough to fulfill a lifelong dream, I felt sad that he didn’t have much to show for his years on earth.  Suddenly, he made sense to me.  He wasn’t a bad guy.  He wanted more for himself and used embellished stories of success to paint the portrait of the man he would like to be.  But to me, I could see through his mirage and into the man that sat next to me.  He was a man that felt uncomfortable with anyone coming too close, too soon.  He was someone who used words to deflect from his truth.   He was a man who was so focused on his own plight that he didn’t see anything on the peripheral; and right now, that peripheral was me.  

Although I knew that this date would never turn into a second, I humored him by sitting and listening.  However, my patience was wearing during this never ending date and it took the waitstaff placing chairs on tables for us to finally get up and head to our respective vehicles.  As he walked me to my car, I intentionally kept space between us until I said my goodbye.  I gave him a quick side hug and thanked him for driving while apologizing once again for my tardiness.  

As I drove home, I texted him a “thank you” which I did for every date. I believe in showing gratitude towards others and he did put forth a lot of effort to meet me.  I felt the message was appropriate.  However, in hindsight, it may have been taken as a sign of invested interest. 

The next day, he texted me several times; sending me photos of the golf course he was playing, updates on his day and even a “you brought me good luck” message.  I was somewhat unresponsive but not entirely. 

I thought I would ween him off while he was out of town and I would be an afterthought by the time he returned. 

However, the next day, the messaging continued and was becoming more aggressive.  He sent me photos of himself and his barber, explaining their relationship and how he had been bragging about meeting me.  While there was some flattery, I started to worry that my gradual ween would not be so easy.  Just then, I see his number appear on my phone.  Is he calling me?  I declined the call while I compared the numbers to my text messages: yep, that was him. A few hours later, he called again.  This time, he left a message saying: 

“Hey, its the Producer, I called you and didn’t leave a message because another call came in that was crazy urgent. Hope you’re having a great day and would love to catch up before I hit the road tomorrow.  But if we don’t chat, just wanted to let you know I had a great time and looking forward to seeing you again and I’ll definitely make a fun reservation for us for dinner and golf so looking forward to that when I get back.”

Man, I felt bad for him.  I was completely not interested but he wasn’t seeing it.  I wasn’t surprised, he didn’t see me the entire date.  He only saw himself and what he wanted.  I knew he wasn’t malicious in his selfishness, he was actually completely clueless. It was clear that I was going to have to tell him that I wasn’t interested.  A few hours passed and I decided that I had to do the right thing and cut him loose, so I texted him. 

I didn’t want to place blame on him since I knew his ego was fragile.  Lines like “I didn’t feel the chemistry” or “I am looking for something different” seemed like a harsh criticism so I went with something that was less personal.  I thought it was very diplomatic of me and I was proud of myself for being honest and brave for telling him the truth.  However, my text inspired a response that I didn’t see coming…

I chuckled to myself because I knew this as a response of a tantruming toddler.  This only confirmed that I made the right choice and he wasn’t the right person for me, which let me to rule #4

Rule #4 of “Rules of Engagement”

4.  Do not date to date.  Only date men that you are interested in having some kind of relationship with.

I had rejected enough men to know that it was rarely taken in stride.  Receiving a nasty response was part of the process and typically happened more often than not. I thought that his “me neither” response would be the end of it but it wasn’t.  After I had sent him the message, he did a deeper dive into my personal life and social media accounts.  That is when he found my blog and my instagram and he was compelled to send me another message that read:

I wish that I could say that I was surprised to get this message, but I wasn’t.  It wasn’t the first time I had received a hate text from a recently dumped love interest.  In fact, the last guy I dated wrote me a message that was so long, it needed it’s own website to be delivered.  

I knew not to pay attention to their criticisms and that these accusations were based on their own insecurities.  However, it did make me question if there is a right way to handle rejecting someone.  And if there was, I clearly was clueless.  

As I lay in the darkness of my room while I try to fall asleep, I thought about how difficult it was to follow my rules.  I needed to date more men because I didn’t want to fall for Mr. Grey; not yet anyway.  I hadn’t seen him outside of a impromptu rendezvous before he left for his vacation to our shared hometown in Florida. 

HIs vacation agenda included going on the boat, day drinking, nightclubbing and chasing women.  He wasn’t shy about his pursuit and I was happy to hear the truth. I was surprised by his commitment to our communication because I assumed that he would be distracted with the temptation around him.  He would send me photos throughout the day of his excursions, quick messages of the places he had been or the people that he would see. Initially, the fact that he was chasing other women didn’t bother me because I didn’t take him very seriously.  He was a thirty-something, womanizing bachelor who liked to live an adventurously naughty lifestyle.  I didn’t see him as much more.  But while he was away, he would call after everyone in Florida was asleep.  His voice was slurred and coated with bourbon.  He would begin with his usual, self-assured bragfest.  I always humored him during this part and listened intently, with a knowing smirk on my face.  He admitted that he was a sexual deviant and he wasn’t shy about it. His sexual preferences were most comparable to youporn and there were few things that were off-limits.  He would tell me stories of his past relationships; even showing me videos of sexual experiences with ex-lovers.  It was weird at first that he would share these videos with me; but after the initial shock, I realized that I found it completely arousing.  He was a “sex, lies and videotape” kind of guy and there was something intoxicating about it.  Involving myself in something like this was risky.  I knew that this was completely against the norms of society, but I was tired of norms.  I wasn’t satisfied with tradition, in fact; tradition royally screwed me over.  And as I kept doing the same thing over and over, I wondered if I would ever get it right.  Or maybe, I wasn’t supposed to follow that path…. maybe I was on the wrong path entirely.  

I didn’t know what I was doing or where it was going to lead me, but I couldn’t control the urge to follow him down his dark hallways of deviance.  But that wasn’t the only thing that mesmerized me about him. When the bragfest was over, he would really talk to me.  We would talk about philosophies on life, our personal experiences that nearly broke us, shared our dreams and talked about how to make them a reality. The juxtaposition of his inner deviance was a man who had a soft side.  His stories made him seem icy and “bad boy” like, but when I listened to him talk about his struggles as a young man and his desire to become something bigger than our tiny town, I felt like I knew him because I wanted the same things too. Beneath the confident exterior, I saw a smart man whose passion and pursuit is fueled by his insecurity of being categorized as unworthy because he never graduated from college.  I saw a man that wanted to be loved but hated feeling out of control.  And in the wee small hours of the Florida morning, he would open up and tell me that he cared.  He would talk about seeing a future with me and how his friends accused him of potentially falling in love with me.  I shrugged it off, attributing his admission to the alcohol and the lack of sleep, but I never forgot his words. Typically, this is the sort of thing that scared me away but with him; I drank it in like my last glass of water.  I knew that the moment was fleeting and he would return to his tough deviant exterior, never remembering the depth of his confessions.  And while I still didn’t trust him, I wanted to know more of him. 

When Mr. Grey returned from his vacation, he asked to see me and I obliged his beckoning. 

We had magnetism that was beyond chemistry.   I wanted to see him, to feel that feeling when he touched me. 

I wanted to experience the magic of his push and pull effect that always kept me guessing.

I didn’t know what our date would be like.  I convinced myself that this was a sure fire path to heartbreak.  But maybe I wanted that.  I had broken enough hearts, maybe it was my turn. I was prepared for the worst; to feel like a piece of meat, which would make walking away from him easier.   But what I got was something entirely unexpected….

Next: 

Chapter 3: Dating Mr. Grey