Choosing Her Lover

Seated at the bar, he is watching the door as I walk in. He stands as he sees me, smiling. “Debbie?”

“Ryan?”

He looks good enough to eat. Beckoning me to the barstool by him, “What can I get you?”

“Red wine, please. Did I keep you waiting long?”

“Not at all, I just arrived a couple of minutes ago.”

As he waves over the barman, I study him. Ryan understated himself in his profile; tall, with strapping shoulders and a lean fit build. Dark, slightly wavy hair and a light tan set off his white smile and dark eyes.

He is disconcertingly attractive. There’s usually a reason that someone who looks this good is on the dating circuit, even when it’s only for sex dating.

Fourth finger, left hand…. No, nothing there….

Nice hands though…. long fingers….

Holding two glasses of wine, Ryan eye-points me across the room. “I hope I’m not out of order here, but I booked us a table. Even if we can’t stand the sight of each other after a couple of hours, at least we’ll have a good meal inside us.”

He sees me looking askance at the table. Holding both hands up, almost warding me away, “Hey, it doesn’t mean I’m making any assumptions other than it’s the end of the working day, and I’m guessing that you’re hungry. I certainly am.”

Feeling foolish. “Yes, sorry. My suspicious nature….”

He looks at me oddly.

Weighing me up?

I think so, yes.

“Shall we sit?”

He seats himself opposite me, ignoring his wine, gazing at me. Chin propped on a fist, he is, very obviously, looking me up and down.

“So, what’s the deal?” he asks. “Women who look like you don’t tend to appear on dating sites like that one. There’s generally some guy in the background beating the jungle drums.” He glances down at my left hand. “And if you ever wore a wedding ring, there’s no sign of it now. Have you ever been married? For that matter, are you married now? Is this supposed to be some kind of ‘on the side’, ‘playing away from home’ kind of thing?”

He's wary of me….

“Is this ‘Twenty Questions’? Yes, I’ve been married. But no, not now. Been there, done that….”

He laughs. “…. Seen the movie, read the book, got the tee-shirt, eh? That bad, was it?”

“Oh, yes, that bad. But I’ve got control of my own life now, and I’ll not be letting it slip out of my fingers again.”

He sniffs, reflectively I think. Not critically. “That’s why you’re doing this? You don’t want entanglements?”

“That’s right. What about you?”

last long-term relationship was a bit of a nightmare. Just now, I prefer to keep things very easy-going.

his wine. “You didn’t do yourself justice you know, on your profile.

cock an eyebrow at him. “Is this where you tell

you a liar?

You’re right. You’re not conventionally pretty. Your features are quite strong, and your nose is a

burst out laughing. “You’re a silver-tongued

I offended

you to come out with some typical bit of patronising, male blarney, and you

sits back in his chair, holding my

pretty, doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive. Quite the contrary. You’re just…. unusual, in more ways than

“You can ask.”

really

that, do you think I’m going to hand out my details

It’s quite dangerous doing what you’re doing, especially

I follow the rules. No name. No address. Meet in a

it. Have you encountered any…?”

weed out at the e-mail and messaging

looks intrigued. “Really?

the phone a couple of times before we agreed on a date. He had a beautiful speaking voice, all honey and cream. Y’know, a

his head.

opposite side of the table from him, but he moved across, all but pinned me into

“What did you do?”

graciously that it had been nice…. which it hadn’t… and we must do this again

if he was really a screwball, or

he didn’t have my real name or where I lived, he did have my mobile number. The messages started coming in within five minutes of me leaving. They were polite enough at first, but when I said that it didn’t

“In what way, strange?”

wanted to do with me. And some of them were…. odd; revolting actually. I’m pretty broadminded, but I wasn’t interested in going the places his mind roamed. I don’t know if he imagined it was some kind of seduction technique, but it felt like stalking… I

Not at all. But after an experience like that, you still

not afraid of men in

you know that a man you meet like this isn’t a psycho

do any of us know that? How do you know that the woman you meet in the theatre, or the library didn’t just walk out of ‘Play

taken. I exercise my

“So….?”

up, this would be strictly a casual thing. You’re not husband-hunting? Looking for a partner or

me. I don’t want to be tied at the hip. I like a bit of fun

no dreams of

“White horses?”

shining armour, come to carry you off for happily-ever-afters in some far away

I laugh. “Not me.”

“And would this be, um…. exclusive?” he

you just want to pass by every