I don’t live in Boston or an ocean community, but I have read about fishermen who fish an entire area, dipping so frequently into mother nature’s resources that, soon, there is nothing left. This overfishing forces them to go beyond their normal trolling area, to get a fresh catch.
I suspect that this was the case for this sexual has-been. (Remember when I talked about all those high school guys turning up years later?)
Though Garrett was very popular in high school– in the a three-season varsity-lettered jock kind of way (I even think he was known around school as the “G man,” whatever the hell that means–maybe he had a rep for finding the G spot)– the twenty years since we’d graduated were definitely showing.
The once athletic cool kid had clearly succumbed to too much beer and leftover pizza. And, I suspect this made it more difficult for him to pick up women than the ease he’d had in high school and college. (Not that I really know, as I wasn’t really on his radar back in the day, nor was he on mine.)
But he finds me on Facebook and I’m guessing his thinking was something along the lines of “here’s someone who knew me in my glory days and I’m going to give her the chance every high school girl got hot and bothered about: the chance to sleep with Garrett ‘G-Man’ Squares.”
Now, I’m not going to deny I was attracted to him. Not so much for the ponch around his belly or his receding hairline, or even, as he would have liked, his aura of coolness that was a residue from bygone days. What I liked about him, what drew me to him, was his sense of humor, his ease with himself and the world.
We had dinner; we walked around downtown; we had a drink. And I let him kiss me, because I was drawn to him and six hours of easy conversation seemed like a good start to something real.
Yeah, stupid me.
The flirtation continued for 24 more hours when I am sure either his wife got wise (because who’s to say he really is divorced) or he found someone else to answer the booty call.
After calling me up to three times a day and texting me regularly (Yes, HE was doing the initiating) he suddenly wasn’t ready for such regular communication. (Read: he found someone else who could meet his solitary quest.)
Was I disappointed? Sure. I thought we had something started. And dammit, it’s just disparaging to date one more guy who only wants my body exclusive of a genuine connection.
But in the end, as always, I am mostly upset with myself– for allowing myself to be deceived. His intentions were clear from the get-go.
G: “I’m going to work out”
Me: “Cool I just got back. Onto the protein course”
G: “Sounds good. You’ve got it right.”
Me: “Yeah, I could teach Phys Ed too” (Did I mention that this lech is certified to work with children?)
G: “Yeah, then I could teach you to get physical.”
And so every interaction ended with a sexual punch line. He spent all of his energy trying to find a way to pitch a junior-high-worthy joke.
It’s pitiful. And though I called him on it every time, what’s most pitiful is that somehow I still held onto a hope or an idea that he was more interested in ME than getting into my pants.
After all, he was driving all the way from Boston to see me– a three to four hour drive. He must be really interested,right? Ha!
That was the first and last time I will make the mistake of misunderstanding how a predator can over hunt his territory.
Wanna Sass Back?