Huh, so I’m a little confused right now (well, more than normal anyway). You see…hmmm, how do I say this? Fuck it: Men rarely surprise me. Now what I mean by this is a) I have a fair amount of experience interacting with men – both platonically and romantically, and b) I’m pretty good at reading people. All of that adds up to me (generally) interpreting interactions and situations well. So imagine my surprise when I got a phone call the day after I got back from Italy, from a guy I’d gone on 2 dates with before I left. Pretty contentious dates actually. A guy who I would have bet money I would never hear from again. And yet he called to say…he had MISSED me!
OK, you people need some background information here – I met him while at a cozy little wine bar on the Upper East Side about 2 weeks before I left on my trip. He was (is) tall, beautiful, and so completely and totally wrong for me that it didn’t even matter how good he looked. Everything he said kind of baffled/amused/annoyed me. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was the most surprised person in the bar when he asked for my number and I actually gave it to him.
But I did. And we went out before I left. Twice.
You know what, I need to describe this guy. Let’s call him…Fancy Pants. Fancy Pants is, first and foremost, sick rich. Like, he’s 33 and has a penthouse on 5th Avenue rich. He plays fucking polo rich. He wears nothing but designer clothes and custom-made suits rich. He exclusively dates models rich.
Are you getting a good mental picture yet?
Now, let me be clear here – I’m a fairly self-confident woman. And I DON’T think this guy is too good for me. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he wants me. As far as I can tell, Fancy Pants is a man who is interested in having a trophy on his arm, not a real woman. And while I like to think of myself as a catch, I am not a model. I have crazy hair that I don’t straighten every day (or…um, ever really). Most of my clothes, while nice, have at least a few cat hairs on them (I live with a cat, it’s impossible for me to avoid it). I wake up in the morning looking human. And my personality is…quirky.
Yet this guy is now fully pursuing me. Even after our first 2 dates – where we disagreed about, oh, everything – he kept calling me. He remembered what day I was getting back from Italy and called me. He took me out to dinner last night and started talking about the FUTURE for fuck’s sake. He nonchalantly mentioned that he wouldn’t want his wife to work!
Actually, that last point leads into my biggest confusion here. This guy pisses me off when he talks. He calls his mother ‘mum’ even though he’s not British. He’s obsessed with status symbols and has no concept of people who can’t afford a $500 bottle of wine with their Tuesday night dinner. He actually fucking told me that he doesn’t understand why people read novels – he feels reading the newspaper is all that’s necessary AND a much more worthwhile use of his time.
I FUCKING READ AND ACQUIRE BOOKS FOR A LIVING!
But I keep accepting dates with him. And I’m not sure why! I certainly don’t care enough about money to be seduced by that. And while he is gorgeous, there are plenty of fabulous looking men out there. So…what the fuck is going on?! I honestly can’t quite figure myself out here. I suppose I might just be fascinated by him – I mean, I am curious if there’s a real person buried in there somewhere. But…
We’re going out again tomorrow night. Linda joked that I’m going to marry him before I figure this whole thing out (I sincerely hope not, but at this point I don’t trust myself to make any smart decisions concerning him). Maybe…maybe I’m trying to fix him? I know women who do that – I’ve never been a big fan of the practice since it always seemed like a lot of wasted effort to me, but…
Yeah, enough pondering for one evening. Do any of you guys have any theories? I’m going to go pour myself a glass of wine from a nice $12 bottle – don’t tell Fancy Pants.