I have a thing for men in their thirties. Not sure why. But I repeatedly choose older men (30 is six years older, and that’s the low end). There’s something wrong with that. Men in their thirties should, by all right, be married or in a relationship. I think I’m skewing toward dysfunction by picking single men in that age group. But I keep doing it.

Anyway. This is an OK Cupid story. I got a message from this guy who actually looked really attractive and seemed smart. We texted a little bit about wine and cheese nights, and then decided to meet up for drinks. And, in person, he was actually smart and attractive! He was the first (maybe only) OK Cupid date I went on that I actually was attracted to, PLUS we got on swimmingly. He paid way too much money for a bottle of wine and we just chatted and drank it. When we were finished, he offered me a ride home, which I accepted, and then he asked to come inside.

As we have already established, I’m stupid about letting men into my apartment. But here was a nice, attractive one whom I really wanted to make out with. So I let him come inside, although I told him explicitly that I was not going to sleep with him, because I really was not looking for casual sex. He said ok.

We got inside and started making out and he kept moving my hand to touch his junk. I moved it away twice, and then explicitly said that I wasn’t going to have sex with him. Again.

Shortly after that, he left. He left in such a hurry that he forgot the scarf he had just gotten for Christmas. I realized the next day that his scarf was sitting on my table and texted him. I said something flirty along the lines of, “it’s ok, I’ll hold it as collateral for our next date.” He texted back that he actually would really rather pick it up immediately. It was a really important scarf…

I’m not stupid. I know when someone is telling me there will be no next date. But I wanted him to say so. So I asked, “Are you not interested in going out again? If not, that’s fine, but just say so.” He didn’t respond for half an hour, but I kept seeing the little “person is typing” dots on my iPhone. Finally, he told me that he had had a good time, but didn’t think he wanted to go out again.

Ok. You know this sort of thing immediately. I know we all want to get laid, but it strikes me as such a dick move to try to sleep with a girl who 1) already told you she didn’t want to have sex (that part is the duh), and 2) you know you never want to see again. He was a grown ass man, not a college freshman. I had made it clear I was not interested in casual sex. But he still pushed for it, knowing that he wanted nothing else. Ugh.

I was very nice and civil and told him that I was disappointed, but it was ok, and I would hold onto his scarf for him until he could get it.

This was the end of December. By the end of January, I still had his stupid scarf on my table. I probably should have just tossed it, but it was a nice scarf, and I felt bad. I finally texted him (for the millionth time) to come get it and he did.

He showed up at my back gate. He was still adorable. We smiled and said hi. He clearly thought it was really awkward. I thought it was fine, except he was being really awkward.

“You know, we can still be friends,” he said, as if he knew I was heartbroken, and felt guilty for only offering the consolation prize.

That was the first time I got seriously irritated.

“Listen, I’m really fine with this,” I said. “There are no hard feelings. I’m really ok.”

“Ok,” he said, still sheepish.

We waved goodbye, and haven’t been in touch since.

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