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?”

bit of a nightmare.

didn’t do yourself justice you know, on your profile. Very few women describe

cock an eyebrow at him. “Is this where

a liar? A

not conventionally pretty. Your features

laughing. “You’re a silver-tongued charmer aren’t

I offended you? I

at all. I was expecting you to come out with some typical bit of patronising, male blarney, and you said

back in his chair, holding my

Quite the contrary. You’re just…. unusual, in more

“You can ask.”

Debbie really

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

doing what

rules. No name. No address. Meet in

hear it. Have you encountered

few. Most of them I manage to weed out at the e-mail and messaging stage. Only one

intrigued.

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. But when I met him,

his head. “Instantly?

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

“What did you do?”

non-alcoholic drinks, said graciously that it had been nice…. which it hadn’t… and we must do this again sometime…. which I was lying about…. Then I got in my car and drove off, determined never to see him

really a screwball, or if it was just

minutes of me leaving. They

“In what way, strange?”

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

all. But after an experience like that, you

“Not everyone’s like him. And I’m not afraid

trust your own judgement for this? How do you know that a man you meet

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

“Point taken.

“So….?”

this would be strictly a casual thing. You’re not

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

no dreams of white

“White horses?”

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

I laugh. “Not me.”

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

profile says you just want to pass by every few weeks…