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?”

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

yourself justice you know,

this where

you a liar? A

features are quite strong, and your nose is a bit

laughing. “You’re a silver-tongued

furrows. “Have I offended

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

chair, holding my eyes, rubbing

doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive. Quite the

“You can ask.”

Debbie really

going to hand out my details to anyone before I’ve had a chance to meet

quite dangerous doing what you’re doing, especially

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

hear it. Have you encountered

and messaging

looks intrigued. “Really?

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

his head.

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

“What did you do?”

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,

out if he was really a screwball, or if

five minutes of me leaving. They were polite enough at first, but

“In what way, strange?”

graphic descriptions of what he 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…

after an experience like that,

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

that a man you meet like

the theatre, or the library didn’t just walk out of ‘Play Misty for Me’ or

“Point taken. I

“So….?”

strictly a

a bit of fun a couple of times a week, and

no dreams of

“White horses?”

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

I laugh. “Not me.”

would this be, um….

to pass by every few weeks… and