Dream Date Plunges Into Horrific Tailspin
Chalk this up to one more thing that could only happen to me.
A few nights back, when first setting up my date with "Abbey" via online personals and instant messages, I could not have been more excited. Talking to this girl, it was almost as if the word "soulmate" was flashing in bright red letters on her IM box. Yet something about her story just didn't add up to equating with a conventional lifestyle, which I consider reasonably important in pursuit of a relationship.
The date began Saturday evening evoking mixed feelings on my part. Physically, she wasn't quite the dreamboat I had envisioned based on her photo and my idealistic imagination but undeniably attractive nonetheless. By every other measure though, she impressed. She was by far the most intellectually astute person I've ever met in person, walking circles around any and every topic we covered, and in ideological alignment with me about 90% of the time. I was into her, even though the love-at-first-sight sexual chemistry was not as explosive as it had been in our online chat. But awkwardness and huge red flags emerged for me right away based on the evasiveness of her response to my questions about what kind of work she was doing in central Iowa, having just moved here two months ago. As the evening went on, it became clearer and clearer from her inadvertant clues that my worst suspicions were right and she could apparently sense I was putting two and two together.
We left our comfortable berth on a sofa at the wine bar and proceeded to a couple of chairs in the corner where she made it official, professing that her career was as an "escort". She was not attempting to rein me in as a client on our date, which I never sensed. She was legitimately making the rounds on the local dating circuit and pursuing a potential relationship. For the next hour, she proceeded to give me a detailed description of how she came to arrive at this profession, how her family feels about it, and how she maintains a traditional social life and her academic studies outside of this profession. Half of me was desperately trying to think of a way to get myself out of this bar and away from this lunatic, while the other half was fascinated listening to this girl pour her guts out to me about the trials and tribulations of being a ho.
I smiled and nodded, being as courteous as possible, and being careful not to say anything that could be construed as judgmental or that would promote a glass of wine tossed in my face, but nonetheless conveyed through my body language that I would never be able to condone that lifestyle by my significant other. She got the hint and seemed to be a little insulted that I had lost interest in further romantic conquest, even though I didn't specifically spell that out. The evening ended cordially, but abruptly. We made standard assurances of keeping in touch at a platonic level, but that'll obviously never happen.
It blows my mind that there are some guys out there open-minded enough to accept having a traditional relationship with a prostitute. In NO WAY would I ever be one of them. After eight dateless months in this new town, I made a heckuva first choice, huh? My only question is how my second date, three or four years down the line on whenever I wear off the shock of this one, will top this girl in the freakshow department.
Now back to horserace handicapping, hopefully restoring some normalcy in my vanilla world shaken to its core last evening.
A few nights back, when first setting up my date with "Abbey" via online personals and instant messages, I could not have been more excited. Talking to this girl, it was almost as if the word "soulmate" was flashing in bright red letters on her IM box. Yet something about her story just didn't add up to equating with a conventional lifestyle, which I consider reasonably important in pursuit of a relationship.
The date began Saturday evening evoking mixed feelings on my part. Physically, she wasn't quite the dreamboat I had envisioned based on her photo and my idealistic imagination but undeniably attractive nonetheless. By every other measure though, she impressed. She was by far the most intellectually astute person I've ever met in person, walking circles around any and every topic we covered, and in ideological alignment with me about 90% of the time. I was into her, even though the love-at-first-sight sexual chemistry was not as explosive as it had been in our online chat. But awkwardness and huge red flags emerged for me right away based on the evasiveness of her response to my questions about what kind of work she was doing in central Iowa, having just moved here two months ago. As the evening went on, it became clearer and clearer from her inadvertant clues that my worst suspicions were right and she could apparently sense I was putting two and two together.
We left our comfortable berth on a sofa at the wine bar and proceeded to a couple of chairs in the corner where she made it official, professing that her career was as an "escort". She was not attempting to rein me in as a client on our date, which I never sensed. She was legitimately making the rounds on the local dating circuit and pursuing a potential relationship. For the next hour, she proceeded to give me a detailed description of how she came to arrive at this profession, how her family feels about it, and how she maintains a traditional social life and her academic studies outside of this profession. Half of me was desperately trying to think of a way to get myself out of this bar and away from this lunatic, while the other half was fascinated listening to this girl pour her guts out to me about the trials and tribulations of being a ho.
I smiled and nodded, being as courteous as possible, and being careful not to say anything that could be construed as judgmental or that would promote a glass of wine tossed in my face, but nonetheless conveyed through my body language that I would never be able to condone that lifestyle by my significant other. She got the hint and seemed to be a little insulted that I had lost interest in further romantic conquest, even though I didn't specifically spell that out. The evening ended cordially, but abruptly. We made standard assurances of keeping in touch at a platonic level, but that'll obviously never happen.
It blows my mind that there are some guys out there open-minded enough to accept having a traditional relationship with a prostitute. In NO WAY would I ever be one of them. After eight dateless months in this new town, I made a heckuva first choice, huh? My only question is how my second date, three or four years down the line on whenever I wear off the shock of this one, will top this girl in the freakshow department.
Now back to horserace handicapping, hopefully restoring some normalcy in my vanilla world shaken to its core last evening.
posted by Mark at 9:51 AM
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