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I went ahead and met a guy in real life. We'd been jokey-flirting a bit, though I made
it clear that I was just funning with him and wasn't looking to get physical -
all I want from this dating malarky is an excuse to put on a nice dress, enjoy
male companionship, then go home alone.
He said he was fine with that - and furthermore, he was in his late
40's, and into rock'n'roll dancing.
I was all "Yay! Me too! Let's go dancing!"
I'm in my late 30s, but the age gap didn't bother me a jot -
it was only a date, I'm not looking for a boyfriend. But the night we were meant to go dancing, he
called (I'd given him my number so we could talk on the phone beforehand etc)
and said that the dancing had been cancelled - would I like to go for a drink
instead? Well, why the hell not, eh?
:) Better than being home alone! I was feeling fairly trusting towards him -
we'd spoken on the phone, and I had added him on SNS site, and could see he had
family and friends, etc. Fairly normal
guy, had a bit of a silver fox thing going on.
So.. I arrived at the pub and spotted him straight
away. He looked enough like his picture
that I could recognise him, but... it was 15 years out of date. That man was late-50s if he was a day, and
his silver fox hair had gone sideways frizzy in the intervening years. Also, he'd dyed it jet-black, so he looked
like a toilet brush that'd been stuffed in a tin of shoe polish. Okay, I thought. So, he knocked a few years
off, and was too embarrassed to say he's too old for the moves in the
dancing. We can still hang out, get an
uncle-figure kind of thing going on, maybe?
Well, maybe not, unless your uncle's on some kind of
register. He was all handsy, trying to
stroke my damn arm all the time. And... worse than that, ever... he kept
getting all mouthsy! EWWWWW! Three
bloody times I fell for the old leaning-in-conspiratorially,
I've-got-some-juicy-gossip trick. Then he'd plant a slobber on my cheek. 
First time, I pulled back sharply and glared a bit. He seemed to back off, so I relaxed, figured that the message was received. But he did it again. He apologised quite profusely, cos I told him "Ummm, NO, actually" and pointedly kept my bag up as barrier between us. That made conversation a little awkward... there are only so many ways a man can mumble "Nice bag, ummm... is it designer? My daughter has one like that ummm...bought it in John Lewis... ummm.." so I suggested a game of pool. I figured it was win-win - if it was a genuine misunderstanding of intent... maybe the glare had been too subtle?... then we could chat about the game and re-establish boundaries. And if he was still going to try to be sleazy, I'd have a pool cue to hand. Again, it seemed to go well. He was polite, friendly, respectful... right up until the very moment I let my guard down, then he pulled THE VERY SAME DICK MOVE AGAIN. :asshat:
I felt awful....sick and shaky... kinda scared, too. Oddly enough... I really, REALLY didn't want to make a scene. That's not like me at all - I'm usually quick to become a snarling ball of spikes and sharp edges when I feel threatened. So instead of beating him with a pool cue, I made my (fairly poor) excuses and pegged it... less than an hour and a quarter after arriving!
In retrospect, I should've sent him a firm "Fuck off" text the minute I
was out of the car park, but unfortunately, it seems I have a bit of a
weakness when it comes to Grandads. I can't hurt them. 
They're old. So, when he texted me a few days later... instead of
"Take a hike, mister" I... kinda... told him... that me and my
ex-husband (Bear) were getting back together, and had agreed NEVER to
speak to people we dated while we were apart. 
And once he'd wished me well and told me what a lovely girl I was
(yeah, I know, mate... shame about you, though!)... I cheerfully blocked
him on Facebook, and on my phone. And that oughta have been the end of
that! 
But, dumbass that I am, I completely forgot to block him on the dating site!
So, within a day or two of my "I can never speak to you again", Dear
John text... he's messaging me again, dripping with concern at my
domestic situation! 
I was so thrown... I can't believe I did this, but I absolutely panicked. And sent him a stern, gruff response.
"Dude, this is the husband. She gave me her logins. Back off, yeah?"
That'll show him, I thought. He'll apologise and back off, like a man.
But, turns out I don't know a damn THING about how men interact, 'cos he immediately called "the husband" out for a fight
"This is a dating site" he wrote. "so ill meet u anytime, anyplace. Im a confidint ex-para* and this is what I look like"
Then he sent a picture of himself about taken about 10 years ago, paddling in the sea in his grandad-pants.
Dunno if "the husband" was supposed to be scared, but I reckoned at that point that *I* could take him, if it did come to fisticuffs. But that wasn't the issue. The issue was, I was supposed to be a young(ish), fit(ish) chap that could handle himself in a brawl and I was being challenged to a fight by Angry Ghandi. I had no idea what to do in this situation, so I did what I ALWAYS do when I'm at my wits end. I messaged my bestie-Bear.
Me <typing furiously>: I have fucked up. I have EPICALLY fucked up and I don't know what to do
He: What's wrong?
Me: BogBrush Man wants to fight me cos he thinks I'm you - WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?!
He: What the fuck is a BogBrush Man?!
<pause while I recall that I hadn't told Bear about my disaster date yet, and pondered how to condense the situation into as few words as possible>
He: Hang on, I'm phoning
A short conversation later - Bear, cool as a cucumber... "Does he know where you live? Does he know who I am? Well, what DOES he know? Okay, um... <trying not to laugh like a loon>... can't you just block him, or something?"
It was like a gasp of air after holding your breath underwater. Block button! Beautiful, beautiful block button!
Right there and then, I blocked BBMan's wrinkly ass. Sweet relief... I
like to imagine that he strutted away in triumph, thinking "the
husband" got scared of his manly sandals or something, and I also like
to think that I'll never see his face again. Plenty of fish, or so I'm
told.
That wasn't a fish though - that was a goddamn slimy octopus.
First time, I pulled back sharply and glared a bit. He seemed to back off, so I relaxed, figured that the message was received. But he did it again. He apologised quite profusely, cos I told him "Ummm, NO, actually" and pointedly kept my bag up as barrier between us. That made conversation a little awkward... there are only so many ways a man can mumble "Nice bag, ummm... is it designer? My daughter has one like that ummm...bought it in John Lewis... ummm.." so I suggested a game of pool. I figured it was win-win - if it was a genuine misunderstanding of intent... maybe the glare had been too subtle?... then we could chat about the game and re-establish boundaries. And if he was still going to try to be sleazy, I'd have a pool cue to hand. Again, it seemed to go well. He was polite, friendly, respectful... right up until the very moment I let my guard down, then he pulled THE VERY SAME DICK MOVE AGAIN. :asshat:
I felt awful....sick and shaky... kinda scared, too. Oddly enough... I really, REALLY didn't want to make a scene. That's not like me at all - I'm usually quick to become a snarling ball of spikes and sharp edges when I feel threatened. So instead of beating him with a pool cue, I made my (fairly poor) excuses and pegged it... less than an hour and a quarter after arriving!
In retrospect, I should've sent him a firm "Fuck off" text the minute I
was out of the car park, but unfortunately, it seems I have a bit of a
weakness when it comes to Grandads. I can't hurt them.
They're old. So, when he texted me a few days later... instead of
"Take a hike, mister" I... kinda... told him... that me and my
ex-husband (Bear) were getting back together, and had agreed NEVER to
speak to people we dated while we were apart.
And once he'd wished me well and told me what a lovely girl I was
(yeah, I know, mate... shame about you, though!)... I cheerfully blocked
him on Facebook, and on my phone. And that oughta have been the end of
that! But, dumbass that I am, I completely forgot to block him on the dating site!
So, within a day or two of my "I can never speak to you again", Dear
John text... he's messaging me again, dripping with concern at my
domestic situation! I was so thrown... I can't believe I did this, but I absolutely panicked. And sent him a stern, gruff response.
"Dude, this is the husband. She gave me her logins. Back off, yeah?"
That'll show him, I thought. He'll apologise and back off, like a man.
But, turns out I don't know a damn THING about how men interact, 'cos he immediately called "the husband" out for a fight
"This is a dating site" he wrote. "so ill meet u anytime, anyplace. Im a confidint ex-para* and this is what I look like"
Then he sent a picture of himself about taken about 10 years ago, paddling in the sea in his grandad-pants.
Dunno if "the husband" was supposed to be scared, but I reckoned at that point that *I* could take him, if it did come to fisticuffs. But that wasn't the issue. The issue was, I was supposed to be a young(ish), fit(ish) chap that could handle himself in a brawl and I was being challenged to a fight by Angry Ghandi. I had no idea what to do in this situation, so I did what I ALWAYS do when I'm at my wits end. I messaged my bestie-Bear.
Me <typing furiously>: I have fucked up. I have EPICALLY fucked up and I don't know what to do
He: What's wrong?
Me: BogBrush Man wants to fight me cos he thinks I'm you - WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?!
He: What the fuck is a BogBrush Man?!
<pause while I recall that I hadn't told Bear about my disaster date yet, and pondered how to condense the situation into as few words as possible>
He: Hang on, I'm phoning
A short conversation later - Bear, cool as a cucumber... "Does he know where you live? Does he know who I am? Well, what DOES he know? Okay, um... <trying not to laugh like a loon>... can't you just block him, or something?"
It was like a gasp of air after holding your breath underwater. Block button! Beautiful, beautiful block button!
Right there and then, I blocked BBMan's wrinkly ass. Sweet relief... I
like to imagine that he strutted away in triumph, thinking "the
husband" got scared of his manly sandals or something, and I also like
to think that I'll never see his face again. Plenty of fish, or so I'm
told. That wasn't a fish though - that was a goddamn slimy octopus.
Happy fishing!
* For those who don't know, ex-para = ex-soldier who jumps
out of planes and stuff. I didn't know
they had them in the Napoleonic Wars, though
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