Posie Pocket has experienced some puzzling dating situations. Instead of hardening her heart, she’s reflecting on these encounters with hope and bright eyes for the future. By sharing her stories, she’s revealing the lessons learned and getting a good laugh while on the lookout for love.
Unfortunate Swoop By Geriatric George
–By Posie Pocket
Just when I thought I’d experienced the ultimate shock from the opposite sex…a chatty, hyper, slightly older man knocks my socks off. Unfortunately it wasn’t in the headboard-banging, orgasm-inducing sort of way. Nope. It was with lies dripping from his tongue. A tongue my mouth (or any other areas) will never know. Thank goodness. It’s probably infested with disease and old man spit. Anyway, the point is, if this chap had been straight and honest with me, I’d be on my back and he’d be tossing pennies into my fountain of youth right now. Let’s rewind to a week ago where this frog, disguised as a hot-ass prince popped up in my life.
I am a bit of a romantic, obsessed with serendipitous moments and fate. A little secret about me is that I’ve always had this feeling I will meet “the one” randomly. It would be love at first sight and he’d sweep me off my feet in one big swoop. So forgive me for being a little smitten and hopeful during the upcoming chain of events.
I was in the waiting room of a spa for a long-anticipated massage. I had just worked out, so I was a sweaty little specimen, wearing sweatpants, a hoodie and no bra. Oh yes, and a sweaty baseball cap to secure my drenched rat’s nest of hair. I am sitting there patiently waiting and anticipating the fabulous massage when this handsome chap sits next to me and comments about my hat. I randomly threw on the hat at the last minute and it donned my alma mater. We quickly dove into a conversation where we both were hanging on every word. No awkward silences. Just effortless flow. Did I mention he was easy on the eyes? I quickly glanced at his left hand to see if he was already snatched up. No ring!
In the midst of our chatter, he asked for my business card. He rattled off that he was a Senior VP of sales and marketing and he wanted to help me. Hello red flag. I see you! I can still think he’s cute though, right?
Fast forward a few hours and we were deep in texts. I kid you not…these texts were doused in words of adoration and slightly obsessive tendencies. He begged to take me out, claiming he’d propose to me on the first date. Just stupid shit like that. I can’t count how many times I rolled my eyes, thinking he was a lunatic. I was still flattered and loved the idea of being his pretty young thang. I was recently single too, so a little flattery to boost the ego ain’t no crime.
A few more days pass and the texts and phone calls are intensifying. With that intensity brought a few more red flags: losing his phone in a cab, contacting me on Linkedin, sending me photos of homeless retarded women he’s talking to. I am definitely realizing he has a serious case of “look at me- I’m so fabulous.” Oh! And he sent me a photo of himself and I didn’t even ask for it. No offense, but don’t send girls photos of yourself unless they ask. And it’s gross if they ask. They probably won’t.
As mentioned, our convos were fueled by foolish and bold declarations on his part. I cautiously submerged myself into them. I felt like I was making my way into the ocean, dipping one little toe at a time. At one point I flat out asked him if he had kids. He said “no.” In fact, his exact words were “no…none that I know of. No blue-eyed Mexican children in California.” Okay whatever the hell that means. I did know he was divorced and that absolutely made me pump the breaks.
Well surprise, surprise. A week after our initial meeting and suddenly the texts and calls stop all together. I thought “for sure he’s banging some little twinkie” in another city. Which is fine, whatever, we weren’t even close to exclusive, let alone hand-holding. But, be honest about where you stick your dick. He claimed he was an honest, wholesome Midwesterner. Well here’s a tip for you Georgey Porgey: don’t tarnish the Midwestern name and drag it through the mud with your incessant lies.
So when his silence was much louder and noticeable than the hundreds of texts I received from him, I decided some secret must be being kept. Luckily I’d spent hours and hours watching Lifetime movies that featured psycho, crazy bitches as leading ladies. Those lazy Sunday afternoons were definitely not time wasted and I am now eternally grateful for the educational content. I am also glad I never slept with this devilish man disguised as a Ken doll. Plus, this Geriatric George probably had kind of loose skin and balls.
So my friends and I began our digital sleuthing and located several pertinent items. First, we found his age (which he was very evasive about), his marriage record and his ex-wife’s name. Then I hit the jackpot. Luckily, his ex-wife’s family posted their long family tree online. Hooray for genealogy! And there you go- he had kids after all! What a freaking idiot.
Of course I instantly wanted to confront him in person and throw a drink in his face. I heard “You’re No Good” playing in my head as my mind began skimming my closet for the hottest dress. But then I realized I wanted to be an honest, classy, calm lass. I simply shot him a smooth dose of honestly, doused with a bit of sass. In closing, I’d like to share my parting words below. You can double damn guarantee his meaningless texts now go unanswered on my end.
Let me be completely honest. I only wanted to meet with you tonight to tell you face-to-face I know you lie. I know about your two girls and your son. Give me a little credit…us 20-somethings are pretty savvy when it comes to the Internet. It absolutely breaks my heart to think of a father denying he has children. I am grateful I have a father who would never do that to me. It’s one thing to tell stupid lies to a girl you’re trying to conquer, but it’s another thing to claim you don’t have children when you do.
I’m also thankful I’m a little too street smart for your ridiculous lies about your phone. I mean come on George–how dumb can a girl be? So maybe next time, go for a girl with a little less wit and desperate for a pathological liar. Or better yet, be honest. At least that will get you laid.
Safe travels and try to keep better track of your phone.