Mr. Fox reached out to me on Plenty of Fish. He made a clever reference to my job in relation to his, and it was easy for me to respond.
His profile showed a very handsome, very tall (6’4″) 49 year old long-divorced professional. He has a teenage child, a love of craft beer, and enjoys exploring restaurants. In a notable departure from my latest boyfriends, he has a full head of hair.
You know the next part: witty and interesting messaging back and forth on the dating site, he asked to move to text, and it continued at a reasonable pace and was red flag free (Madeline, it is possible). I was quite excited about meeting this one.
At first when he asked when he could see me, I said it would be at least a week. I had my son Liam for the week, my work was heating up, and my usual Friday night free was taken up with a major sporting event I was attending with Liam. He was also in the dating pipeline behind my Saturday night date and I wanted to see how that went. But I was free the following Sunday and we put an evening date in our calendars.
He mentioned he’d dated three Ann’s since his divorce, saying “they have become like release Ann, Ann 2.0, Ann 2.1 (more of a patch). Hopefully there is an Ann deluxe.”
My response? “I am definitely Ann 3.0 but depends how much customization you require to see whether the release is the right match with your business requirements”.
I slay me.
It’s hard for me to fully explain when flirty and sexy an interested is good, versus when it’s creepy or needy. One of the keys is definitely for me to feel that it’s about me – and so context is important.
We talked about confidence, and Mr. Fox said “people ask why confidence is so important to me. The air is sexy. Confident people are usually intelligent. And confidence carries into the bedroom.”
We flirted about my footwear and liking heels as well as boots. Somehow, and it wasn’t in a creepy way, we got onto the topic of the importance of a good sex life, and he wrote “there is a difference between making love, which is slow, passionate and intimate, and well…fucking, which is more raw and animalistic”. I took a few minutes to respond to a subsequent text message and he worried he revealed to much.
If he only knew…
When he said things like “you deserve someone who appreciates what you bring to the table”, it was in the context of us texting about the balance between being confident and being humble.
We made each other laugh. He said “for the record, I have a tendency to swear.” My response? “No fucking way. I’m horrified.”
We discovered we each had OK Cupid profiles so we checked our match %. It is 80%, which is decent.
As my weekend progressed and the rest of the men in the pipeline fell away for one reason or another, and as our conversations continued, I found myself trying to find a way to see him sooner. Monday morning he sent me a good morning text and I asked him if he was free to meet for a coffee during the day that week. We quickly established we were both free that morning (he works between my house and my office) so we agreed to meet at 9:30am and I would go into work late.
I was excited to meet him. He had apologized in advance for his casual clothing. I didn’t care. He was more handsome in person. He greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.
We mocked each other’s choice of complicated Starbucks coffees (Grande No Foam 130 degree Latte, in case anyone wants to send me a coffee). Instead of sitting across from each other, he arranged the chairs so we were side by side. The quintessential gentleman, he pulled the table out until I was seated. The conversation was just fine – not effortless, but not filled with awkward pauses. I could tell he was a little nervous.
We talked until we absolutely had to go. I wanted to kiss him and asked him how he felt about public displays of affection. He gave me a tentative kiss. Then another. My stomach did little flip flops and I really wanted to grab him and give him a hard passionate kiss. I could tell he wanted the same.
He insisted he’d walk me to where I had to pick up transit to get to work. He opened every door for me on the way. He grabbed my hand and held it as we walked. Then, in the station, surrounded by a sea of people rushing here and there, he kissed me again. And again. And again.
We had to break apart and he watched me go until I was out of sight. I couldn’t stop smiling. And I smelled like his cologne which was even better…a memory of him that got into the fabric of my dress and helped me revisit that kiss for the rest of the day.
The best things he said afterwards:
“For the record I was 100% checking you out as you walked away.”
“Oh and thanks for being a great kisser. I am sure they get much…hmmm…more passionate (for lack of a better word) as well.”
I was eager and interested in seeing him again.