The subject matter of the e-mail caught me off-guard. "Bob ____". It was from a dear friend and generated an immediate disconnect. "What the.... She doesn't know him!" He is an ex of mine from about ten years ago. It was a tough relationship. I loved him very much and sometimes I thought he loved me but there was a lot of pain and we brought out the worst in each other. Or at least he brought out the worst in me; I'm not sure what I brought out in him, but it wasn't what I wanted.
She and I chatted. I tried to be as neutral as possible. After all, it was a long time ago and he might be less self-absorbed now, more genuinely thoughtful. She decided it would be weird to date a friend's ex and chose not to pursue anything with him and I was relieved. Not because I didn't want her dating my ex, but because I didn't think this ex would be good for her. (Or possibly anyone.) But then again, it was a long time ago and he might be ... except he's not!
She wrote an account of their first date which is when it became clear that he has changed. For the worse! On their date, he was, frankly, creepy. At least my first date with him wasn't icky. He saved icky for later.
I'd placed an personal ad in the paper. I was very specific about who I am and what I wanted, which I suspected wouldn't generate many responses but which I hoped would mean that any who did respond would be worth exploring. This was how it turned out. Only about ten men answered and I went out with nine of them. They were all lovely men, men worth getting to know, only there wasn't a "connection" with any of them. Until Bob.
Damnit, I'm a sucker for voices. His voice on my answering machine was smooth and sexy and I was half-hooked, just by listening to it. When I went to meet him, I kept looking at the people approaching the pub, hoping they weren't "him", and the one I wanted to be him, was. Physically, totally my type! (Okay, he dressed like he'd been cleaning out the attic in long shorts and an untucked button-down shirt but clothes can change.) And bright and interesting and quirky. Yep, that "connection" was there.
After a chat over a glass of wine he asked if I'd like to see a place in the neighborhood he'd been talking about and I agreed. He asked if it were okay if we stopped at his house to pick up his dog and walk him with us. This seemed fine; kind of a sweet touch. But that's when I got my first clue. We walked to his house, a huge house in a very upscale part of DC and he went in (he invited me in, but I declined) to get the dog and change his shoes. I, of course, was in nice heels, without another option, so when he came out in ratty tennis shoes, I began to have some doubts. We walked through the poorly-lit streets into what seemed to be a park. It was muddy, it was dark, and there was no one about. I stopped, turned to him and said, in a half (just half) - teasing voice, "Just so you know - I left your name and phone number with a girlfriend and if I don't call her by 10:00, she'll send the police looking for me."
I didn't need the police. We trudged up the muddy hill and sat on a bench so that he could throw an old, chewed-up tennis ball to the dog, over and over. He apologized to me for not suggesting I throw the ball, thinking (correctly) that I wouldn't want to pick up the saliva-drenched muddy object. The conversation was eclectic and great fun, the dog was well-behaved and my shoes needed serious cleaning but weren't ruined. A little weird, but no ick.
It's probably good that he's gotten creepier up-front. I think all men should come with a sign around their necks telling us what they're really like. And if they won't wear a sign, their early behavior should give up clear clues. His sign would read: Bad Bob.
