Circumstances of our meeting remains conventional. He got my number and started texting. It was normal in the beginning, then turned a bit weird and awkward before I figured that he is interested in me – as a woman.

Texting got a bit casual, and God, he sneaked in praises of my courage, independency, intellect and hard work in every opportunity he got. In his word, he is fascinated by strong women and, in so many ways. I fit the bill – I deserve blushing, right? I was, smiling childishly every now and then.

Then came the first date. I politely volunteered to pick a restaurant and I actually recommended some, but he insisted that this date is on him, I should only focus on getting ready to be picked. The fact is, I would have preferred to drive myself, but I had known him as a trusted person, so I chilled. After all, I didn’t want to overemphasis ‘being independent’.

He pulled off; the car was very shiny with an exciting, welcoming fragrance. Looking at him, I couldn’t tell if he was overdressed or I was underdressed. But I guess it was me, with only phone on my hand, I jumped in, and we set off.

What a fancy, seaside restaurant with nerve soothing sounds of the waves. A table for two was pre-booked. “Babe, this restaurant has the best seafood platter, their lobster deserves a Nobel prize, so I pre-ordered some for both of us, you will love them,” he intimately said, sounding so confident and excited.

At this point I was ogling at him in awe, I mean, the thoughts he put into this date! Butterflies were all over me, but gees, seafood? With all my allergies? A single bite will send be direct to ICU, but I don’t want to crush his ego, I don’t want him to feel bad about not asking me what I would or would not eat. So, just to buy me time to figure that out, I quickly asked him if he can call for one plate first, it will be sweet if we eat together one plate after the other, right?

He brought into the idea.

“Thank you for meeting me, I love you, you know, I just don’t go out with random girls, you have to be special to have dinner with me, and you are so special!” he said. My face changed – blame my unconscious bias. “What is wrong?” he inquired. Nothing, I said, forcing a smile and whispered: So, what is the end game of this love you are feeling for me?

“What do you mean babe? I will say, lets know each other better and see where this love will take us, you know, I have been searching for a right woman to get married too and start a family with, I think you are the one, I hope you wont be like my baby mama, I have high standards, I work hard, build my business and life from scratch, it is just right to get the right woman besides me, so show me what you got.” He ended his entreaty with a charming smile…

I swear I don’t know what made me so calm, maybe it was a fear of eating seafood – Lol! With my silly voice, I asked, so what does that mean in practical terms? He jumped in hurriedly, “I am a responsible man babe, I provide for my woman and my family, that is why I work so hard, it’s for my queen.” He expected a shyly smile from me, but my mind was so lost, I couldn’t decide what to make of it and my gestures sold me out.

I had to say something to keep the conversation going. I looked him in the eye, and asked: Darling, do you mean, we will be dating for you to be sure that I am the one, then if I am, we will get married and start a family, right? But what if I am the one to you and you are not the one to me?

Why marriage is an end and not a means towards fulfilling a life of love and happiness? Why are you assuming with no marriage there will be no family? You have a son, and other people in your life, isn’t that your family already? And what if I don’t want you to be the financial provider, is there anything else you would do?

“Babe you are over analyzing things, can we have a normal conversation?” he chipped in, mansplaining. His tone was strange and dry. Confused as I was, I gathered my valor and replied, I thought it is my intellect and courage to speak my truth that made you fall in love with me in the first place, right? That proverbial awkward silence followed for a couple of minutes.

Knowing I might have ruined the date, I stretched my hands across the table and held his hand. My voice was shaking – I felt so many contradicting emotions: What about my emotions? My feelings? And my pleasure? Are they part of the deal? Are they in the package of what you will offer me if I prove to be the girl you want?

You see, I might not be rich like you, but I am not poor either, I can finance me, I need no shelter from a man, and I have rejected conventional wisdom of marriage and family. So, what you are committing to offer doesn’t excite me. I want a relationship that works for me, not for a family member, a pastor or a friend. I want a man who will lay his emotions bare, lower his guards down when it comes to ego, and allow himself to be vulnerable in my embrace. A man who will count my heartbeat as I am counting the stars, who will explore the greatness of human creation, who will…

“You talk too much”, he kinda yelled, turning into a complete stranger!

I wish I could have carried my fighting mode. I left it at home, naively believing it will all be rosy. You meant to say me having clarity of what I want and describing qualifiers of ‘loving me’ is ‘talking to much’? Okay, I will stop talking now…. What’s next? I gave him that ‘whatever look’. He felt it.

In a span of seconds, he called for the waiter. She brought the bill. Before he reached for his wallet, I dipped my hand in my bra, pulled out a couple of notes wrapped on handkerchief; Let me get this one, save that money, for your next date, I hope it will be better, I said with a lot of confidence.

I could read his mind, searching for appropriate words to end the night. So, I added, are you sure you want to drop me home or I can grab a cab? “If you don’t mind, I will rush” – his voice was deep and sad. Alright, I will order coffee then and thanks for the night out…he walked out, as my voice faded.

I moved to another table, got myself a comfortable couch, opened my phone and tweeted, Loving Me … no likes yet.

As I was scrolling through my twitter timeline, I wondered, will he call again?

What went wrong?

—

 

*Chill, don’t personalize the story – it’s a work of fiction.