Dance of Attraction…what’s missing?

Recently, I’ve been experimenting with the idea of civvie dating. In a previous POST, I mentioned that I’d started to try out dating apart from the escorting side of my life. It didn’t really start well, but I’m nothing if not persistent…so I’ve given it another go. Occasionally, I meet men who express interest, and after a conversation or two, I decide whether I want to continue. Unfortunately, the answer is often times “no”. I don’t think I’m being overly picky (much), it just seems that something isn’t there. I’ve tried to figure out what’s missing, but could never really put my finger on it…until now.

Remember “back in the day”…? Remember the times when men didn’t try to start a conversation with “Say….say ma!” from across the street, but would prefer to politely take notice of you in a public setting, be social, and come over to introduce himself and pay a lady a compliment? (Side bar: I blame the idiot women who have lowered their standards & entertain that BS for the reason the rest of us have to put up with it.) He might smile, take her hand, and offer to help her into a cab on her way home, or send a drink over to her table with a smile and a wave? Times have changed, and we don’t all live in an episode of “Mad Men”. I get that. But when did the dance of attraction become obsolete? When did quiet reserve and gentlemanly gestures become unnecessary ingredients for romance recipes?

I met a gentlemen in a cigar bar recently, though he wasn’t someone I would have chosen out of the crowd. He was a nice guy. When we met, he’d been sitting at the bar with a friend of his, and I noticed them as I sat at the corner of the bar to wait for my friend to arrive. One of the two men immediately started talking to me (we’ll call him Jibber-Jabber), and before long, the three of us were engaged in a little small talk. Jibber-Jabber told me all about himself and how he was recently single and…I swear he said this… “ready to mingle”. I suppressed a laugh and waved to my friend who had just come in the door. She took a seat near me, ordered a glass of wine, and gave me the standard “And who do we have here?” look. I raised an eyebrow to let her know that her interest was premature, and excused myself in favor of the ladies’ room.

When I returned, Jibber-Jabber had gone out to his truck for a minute to take a work call, or so the friend (who we’ll call the Silent type) told me. Silent ordered me another drink and apologized for his friend being so lame. He sat quietly for a while and I watch him, sure of himself without needing notice. I asked him what he did for a living. He looked up at me with electric green eyes and said he was a landscape architect. That was it. He closed his mouth and went back to his drink. Silent… indeed.

Not long after, Jibber-Jabber came back and asked if either myself or my friend would like to dance. I refused, she accepted, and away they went. Silent occasionally looked my way, smiled that “I see you smile”, and returned to his drink. Another gentleman came over, asked me to dance, and this time I went. I looked over at Silent and Jibber-Jabber, who were both intently watching me dance with new guy (we were the only two on the floor after all). Jibber-jabber seemed really interested and wasn’t bad-looking at all. But there was something about Silent that made me want to know more. After the song ended, I thanked my partner, took his offered business card, and headed back to my seat.

As Silent stood to pull out my chair, Jibber-Jabber said they were headed to a friend’s set uptown and would we like to join him? He immediately sensed my apprehension and launched into a very animated description of the place and the music there, becoming increasingly more loud as he talked on. I declined, saying I felt a headache coming on, and explained that I was headed home soon. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. All that talking Jibber-Jabber was doing was certain to cause my head to pound soon. Before leaving, Jibber immediately grabbed my phone from the table, keyed his number in and pressed “call”. The phone in his pocket screeched some alarmingly annoying song and he looked down at me and said “There, now we can meet up later!” Ugh. What the hell?!?! “Let’s leave these ladies to their evening, Jibber”, Silent said. He guided Jibber-Jabber toward the door and said it had been a pleasure.

As I lowered myself into my seat again, the waiter came over to our small table and set down two fresh cocktails and a business card. I looked up in surprise and before I could ask, he said they had been ordered by Silent. My friend and I sipped our drinks and plotted what kind of excuse I would give Jibber when he called. Soon after, we headed home. I stopped at a gas station on my way home, and who should I see pull up next to me? Why Silent, of course. He was alone (thank G_d), and suavely stepped out of his truck, strolled over to the side of my car, slid his debit card into my gas pump and proceeded to pump gas into my silver-grey sedan. I just stood there watching him in disbelief. He finally looked over at me and said, “What? I’m not following you miss. I live just around the corner. Besides, a lady shouldn’t have to pump her own gas.” He replaced my gas cap, opened my car door and said “I hope you have a great evening, ma’am”, winked and walked into the store. Who does that? A man who knows what he wants and doesn’t need validation. That’s who.

I sat in my car seat frozen for a moment. I had two choices, but couldn’t seem to move. One: I could make my way into the store, wait for Silent to get up to the counter, and toss a box of condoms in with his purchase to make my intentions known. OR Two: I could continue on my way home and leave this man to his business. I wondered…had he known the effect his “silent type” act? Was it an act at all, or was this just who he was? Either way…it was doing a number on my panties.

Because I’m used to being the chasee, and not the chaser, I stayed in the car. Just as Silent was exiting the convenience store, I was pulling out of the parking lot. I saw his head follow my tail lights to the intersection and stop for the light. Before the light changed, he’d pulled up behind me and waited. I glanced in my side mirror and saw his head tilt slightly out of his window. Well…if there ever was a time…it wouldn’t look much different from this. I winked at him and turned on my blinker before taking off. My towne house was a block away. As I pulled through my condo gate, I watched his black truck slither in behind me. He parked next to me, stepped out of his truck and leaned against it. I let myself in my front door and stood there waiting for him to decide whether he was coming in. It took less than three minutes for me to pour a drink, slide out of my dress, and climb the stairs. Having learned to keep up, Silent was right behind me. We spent the night sharing ice water and exchanging expletives in between grabbing for fistfuls of hair or bed sheets.

What’s the moral of the story, you ask? Simple. A peacock with the feathers on display isn’t always the one to get the mate. It’s not always about what you show off…sometimes, its more about the subtle dance of attraction between two people. A woman doesn’t always need to see a man with his chest pushed out, his volume at a low roar, or his self-proclaimed assets on display. Often, the best way to attract is not to try. You just never know what you might get. This may have been a total fluke. I realize I won’t always win, but I, for one, think it was a damn good start. After all, it turned out that he made killer french toast! ;p