I had just moved into my neighborhood. Didn't know a soul. In the mornings I would be at work. At night, I'd come home. Sit in bed and chat on the puter.
I confess to being a geek. Online chat is a lot better than spending all evening with an idiot, worrying if he'll try to kiss you. Besides, I was getting tired of the men my age. So childish. I wanted someone more level-headed. And so the search had been going on frantically for five years, to no avail.
I had broken up with my ex. That's how he got to be my ex, right? Well, the breaking up had involved a lot of growing up too. I learnt, men like diversity. They like butts, boobs and ass. And they didn't like prudes.
I wasn't ready to be any man's slut. Maybe someone's. But not anyone's.
Though I desired to be a sexual goddess to one man, I doubted if he existed, and I had no desire to tell any man I that had these desires. When the right man came along he would know. Right?
So, there I was. The laughing-stock of all my friends who couldn't understand why I was waiting for the "right man" at my age. Not making an effort to date really. Retreating fast, if the man was anything other than "sex-worthy".
And then, something funny happened. I was online. Bored shitless. Eating corn chips and salsa. Flipping the goddamn channels. And then there was an instant message.
He was 52. Well, I wasn't surprised. I was avoiding the 30s and 40s rooms. Too many bots there, not to mention the immature men. I was not overly excited by them, nor was I expecting anything interesting, other than, perhaps, chat. The 50s rooms were a far improved version of the meat market. Far fewer "ASL Smart Alecks", trying to ask for your cam or requesting a pic, in the very second line.
Roe, this guy, was sweet, however. Not that I didn't meet sweet men. I met plenty. But somehow he felt sweeter. And less smart-alecky. And he certainly didn't push anything on me.
We talked a few days. About nothing really. What we liked to do. Small shit. But it was his laid-back nature that really got me thinking.
In any case, Valentine's day came and went. I got flowers from my ex. And I never got them while we were a couple. Wasn't sure why. Maybe he was trying to get me back. Maybe he was feeling bad for dumping me in the middle of our 3rd year of marriage. Maybe he wanted to tell me we could be friends...even though he was banging every woman in town.
The roses were pretty. I re-arranged the bouquet. Threw out the leaves. It looked better without all the date-palm leaves. And the note.
What can I say? I like simplicity.