I have learned the best advice when seeking out a mate or date is -- always trust your instincts. Trust your gut. If something feels weird or iffy, listen to that feeling. My policy is usually, give every guy a chance -- within reason, of course. I should have paid attention to those warning bells this past weekend...
First, the back story. I met A. two months ago in an elevator in LA. He noticed me and said, 'You are very beautiful, do you have a boyfriend?' in a sexy French accent. I was flattered and intrigued, so we chatted for a few minutes in the lobby before I had to catch a flight. I found out that A. had a fascinating life -- he dealt diamonds, traveled the world, had homes in Brussels, Rio, and Belgrade, and was loaded. Hey, doesn't hurt. So I gave him my number thinking, thanks for the ego boost, I'll never see you again! and flew home.
So A. ended up calling me. And calling me. And texting me. And telling me to fly out to Miami to meet him. And then to quit my job and travel with him. And referring to me as his future wife and the mother of his French-speaking rug rats. Ring-aling-aling...
It sounded completely glamorous, I admit. And fun to imagine. Just think, this blog could be called, Adventures of a Rich Dude's Girlfriend. He would pay my way to travel to every country, then while he was out selling diamonds I could shop and explore and drink espresso and eat biscotti. What a life! So I ignored those ring-alings....
I noticed little things along the way. He was a businessman. Meaning, he wasn't used to hearing no. No meant maybe to him. I would say something, and it would go in one ear and out the other. Plus, there was too much fantasy romance crap, and not enough real life. Then came the sex talk -- the lingerie references -- the bedroom allusions -- and the question, "You're not a Puritan are you?" (At the time, I laughed and answered HUH? NO! But now I look back and think that in his English-as-a-second-language deficiency, he meant prude, not the 17th century bonnet-wearing sect of Christianity. Which, as a matter of fact, I am. A prude, not a Puritan. Bonnets don't look good on me.)
But, in the spirit of equal opportunity dating, I told him we could meet. Not me coming to Miami or LA to meet him -- and possibly get murdered or raped -- and if that strikes you as a possibility that is a MAJOR red flag that SHOULD NOT BE IGNORED -- but him coming to AZ, on my turf.
So even after too many warning bells to count, I let him come. More out of curiosity than anything else. I saw him on Saturday -- this is after I already bitched him out for being inappropriate and self-absorbed. And he ended up being both -- reminding me that first impressions are usually right on.
It was two hours of my life that bordered on molestation. The way he looked at me was the way a caged animal looks at a slab of meat -- eyes glazed over, lips quivering, salivation glands working overtime...
Here's the summary:
- He was 30 minutes late
- First thing he does -- come straight up and try to kiss me on the lips -- ended up with a slobbery smack on my cheek
- Actually says, "Your breasts are smaller." (Note: I was not wearing a bra this time, I was before. And why are you looking, you nasty freak?)
- In the middle of our meal, stood up and ambushed me with a kiss -- in front of the entire restaurant, and so that I couldn't get away! -- and not a polite kiss, a raunchy gross get-a-room I'm afraid you are going to eat me alive kiss- Grabbed my ass multiple times -- so much that I was afraid to turn my back to him in case he'd get the urge to credit-card me
- Tried to get me to come back to his hotel room
- Plus, he was flashing around a wad of $100 bills and was a jerk to the waiter and every salesperson we saw, more bad qualities
The only way I could escape was say, I gotta go back and change before tonight. I'll meet you in xx hours. And -- I got the HELL out of there!!
Bottom line -- trust your instincts women. If it sounds like bullshit, it probably is. If you are not looking forward to something, and are just giving him a chance because of some obligation you feel you have, don't. Those two hours deserve to go to someone who won't credit-card your ass.
P.S. You're probably wondering what this guy looks like. He was not bad-looking. Ladies, beware:
First, the back story. I met A. two months ago in an elevator in LA. He noticed me and said, 'You are very beautiful, do you have a boyfriend?' in a sexy French accent. I was flattered and intrigued, so we chatted for a few minutes in the lobby before I had to catch a flight. I found out that A. had a fascinating life -- he dealt diamonds, traveled the world, had homes in Brussels, Rio, and Belgrade, and was loaded. Hey, doesn't hurt. So I gave him my number thinking, thanks for the ego boost, I'll never see you again! and flew home.
So A. ended up calling me. And calling me. And texting me. And telling me to fly out to Miami to meet him. And then to quit my job and travel with him. And referring to me as his future wife and the mother of his French-speaking rug rats. Ring-aling-aling...
It sounded completely glamorous, I admit. And fun to imagine. Just think, this blog could be called, Adventures of a Rich Dude's Girlfriend. He would pay my way to travel to every country, then while he was out selling diamonds I could shop and explore and drink espresso and eat biscotti. What a life! So I ignored those ring-alings....
I noticed little things along the way. He was a businessman. Meaning, he wasn't used to hearing no. No meant maybe to him. I would say something, and it would go in one ear and out the other. Plus, there was too much fantasy romance crap, and not enough real life. Then came the sex talk -- the lingerie references -- the bedroom allusions -- and the question, "You're not a Puritan are you?" (At the time, I laughed and answered HUH? NO! But now I look back and think that in his English-as-a-second-language deficiency, he meant prude, not the 17th century bonnet-wearing sect of Christianity. Which, as a matter of fact, I am. A prude, not a Puritan. Bonnets don't look good on me.)
But, in the spirit of equal opportunity dating, I told him we could meet. Not me coming to Miami or LA to meet him -- and possibly get murdered or raped -- and if that strikes you as a possibility that is a MAJOR red flag that SHOULD NOT BE IGNORED -- but him coming to AZ, on my turf.
So even after too many warning bells to count, I let him come. More out of curiosity than anything else. I saw him on Saturday -- this is after I already bitched him out for being inappropriate and self-absorbed. And he ended up being both -- reminding me that first impressions are usually right on.
It was two hours of my life that bordered on molestation. The way he looked at me was the way a caged animal looks at a slab of meat -- eyes glazed over, lips quivering, salivation glands working overtime...
Here's the summary:
- He was 30 minutes late
- First thing he does -- come straight up and try to kiss me on the lips -- ended up with a slobbery smack on my cheek
- Actually says, "Your breasts are smaller." (Note: I was not wearing a bra this time, I was before. And why are you looking, you nasty freak?)
- In the middle of our meal, stood up and ambushed me with a kiss -- in front of the entire restaurant, and so that I couldn't get away! -- and not a polite kiss, a raunchy gross get-a-room I'm afraid you are going to eat me alive kiss- Grabbed my ass multiple times -- so much that I was afraid to turn my back to him in case he'd get the urge to credit-card me
- Tried to get me to come back to his hotel room
- Plus, he was flashing around a wad of $100 bills and was a jerk to the waiter and every salesperson we saw, more bad qualities
The only way I could escape was say, I gotta go back and change before tonight. I'll meet you in xx hours. And -- I got the HELL out of there!!
Bottom line -- trust your instincts women. If it sounds like bullshit, it probably is. If you are not looking forward to something, and are just giving him a chance because of some obligation you feel you have, don't. Those two hours deserve to go to someone who won't credit-card your ass.
P.S. You're probably wondering what this guy looks like. He was not bad-looking. Ladies, beware: 