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?”

long-term relationship was a bit of a nightmare. Just

justice you know, on your profile. Very few women describe themselves as ‘Not

where you tell me you think I

a

conventionally pretty. Your features are

laughing. “You’re a

brow furrows. “Have I

expecting you to come out with some

his chair, holding my eyes, rubbing

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

“You can ask.”

Debbie really your

do you think I’m going to hand out my details to anyone before I’ve had a chance to

doing what

careful. I follow the rules. No name. No

Have you encountered any…?”

weed out at the e-mail and messaging stage. Only one got past my first defences so

intrigued.

phone a couple of times before we agreed on a date. He had a beautiful speaking voice, all honey and cream. Y’know, a Richard Burton, or Morgan Freeman, or Alan Rickman kind of voice.

his head. “Instantly?

the opposite side of the table from him, but he moved across, all but pinned me into my seat. He kept coming too close, invading my space…. And there was something about the way he

“What did you do?”

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

he was really a screwball, or if it

I found out. He was completely unzipped. Although 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

“In what way, strange?”

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

all. But after an experience like

it off. “Not everyone’s like him. And I’m not afraid of men in

your own judgement for this? How do you know that a man you meet like this isn’t a

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

nodding. “Point taken. I exercise

“So….?”

would be strictly a casual thing. You’re not husband-hunting? Looking for a partner or long-term

the hip. I like a bit of fun a couple of times a week, and

of

“White horses?”

shining armour, come to carry you off

I laugh. “Not me.”

nods. “And would this

pass by every