After reading a Huffington Post article written from a male perspective about the advantages of asking a woman on a ‘date’, instead of the vague, ‘let’s go for coffee’, I knew I had to share my latest man-tale with you.
If you are not a close personal friend of mine, trust me when I tell you never to take a good guy for granted, especially as you get older.
Like good women, good men become tired of dealing with games and players and craziness.
As 2013 rolled into 2014, I was somewhere downtown grooving my new little silver studded flats into some grimy linoleum. Thanks to a designated driver, a favourite band, my best man-pal, lots of wine, and a little help from my pal Pablo, the evening was fun, relaxing and happy.
When I settle in at a bar, I have bat-like radar when it comes to bad boys. ‘With such keen radar I have been introduced to pilots, rugby players, writers and all sorts of lovely men. Before I’d even taken off my coat or ordered my first drink, a little hottie with a tattooed forearm caught my eye.
“Bad news,” is not what my inner voice said. Nope. Not even after all of these years of experience. What my inner voice jubilantly rattled off like a school girl’s song was, “Ding dong, bring it on!”
As luck would have it ladies, Mr.Badass Tattoo Boy swung me around the dance floor a few times, told me a little bit about himself, and took my number. Nice…
Long story short, not only have I been around the block a few times, I helped design the neighbourhood. After a few text messages, sexy tattoo man basically revealed himself as a classic male-gold-digger;
It’s me, your new dance partner – I hope you got home safely. Can’t wait to see you again xo……I have a really great job, but was just laid off. I may have to look out west for work, unless I have something to stick around here for…. You seem like such a nice woman….I had to move out of my apartment and have nowhere to live…..
Ok, first of all, homelessness is not sexy. It’s sad, and if you think this sugar-momma is going to tuck your boots under her bed while you sit on your cute, tight, buns all day while she’s at work, you’re wrong. Although I do keep my home rather warm, perhaps I could get him to do a little housework sans shirt….just a thought. It is cold outside after all.
For gentlemen confused by my abrupt turn to glaciel-ice-bitch, please refer to my previous post for amorous menfolk.
I figured the guy was a player of the worst kind, and cut him loose. He ranks right up there with the guy who asked me to pay for dinner, and then a bit of a cash advance, “just until payday”. Seriously. What the hell?!
However….all was not lost. Just the day before I had been very gallantly escorted to my vehicle and asked to dinner. When I said, “Sure, I’ll go for a drink with you,” he said, “No. Not a drink. I want to take you out for dinner.”
Now gentlemen, that’s how you ask a lady out. On a date. You do not ask, Wanna do something? Wanna hang out? Wanna go for coffee? Wanna….ah…let me think potential man-cake…no. No I don’t ‘wanna’ anything. I would however, be delighted to be picked up at 7:30 after having been asked to accompany you to dinner at the restaurant of your choosing.
Being vague with, ‘do you wanna’s’, is nothing more than a layer of emotional armor that women of a certain age really just aren’t willing to wonder about. We know what we want and what we don’t. We don’t want indecisive men who are lukewarm about our luscious charms.
Another man who can’t commit? How very refreshing (sarcasm font). Another man who has no direction, but a good eye for a hard-working woman? No thank you sir. A date? Sure, why not? See you at 7:30.