Part V in which the evening ends and we all become dearly departed from one another's lives
Apparently, there was some set of rules in place that would govern the behavior of all in the aftermath of this group dinner date. It was fairly simple. Each person would receive a phone call telling them that either someone or no one was interested in seeing them again. Sounds cold-blooded. It was, but it was also a way to move beyond.
By the time my phone call arrived, about a week later, I'd figured out what had happened. All three of us men were clearly interested in only Bonnie. Susan and Marsha, though very nice people and fairly good company, inflicted no sparks. Bonnie was clearly the best looking of the 3 women and given the conversation was less than stimulating, it was all we had to go on. After all, we were men. We came into the evening with all the sex-role conditioning that growing up in the 1950s had to offer. Not that we hadn't evolved. In fact, Marvin and I, given our progressive politics were clearly impacted by first wave feminism and conscious of the social change that continued to impact male-female relationships as we grew from naive teenagers to centered, sensitive, open-minded men.
Sure enough the phone call I got the phone call and the message went down in less than a minute. I might have laughed, or smirked, but the emptiness I felt soon overwhelmed me. It felt like I came close in a job interview but my services were not wanted. It took all of one day for me to recover. When I realized that none of these people, including my friend Martin, really knew me, I turned the page vowing never to answer, hell, never to look at personal ads again.
Maybe this entire episode was more complicated than I thought. Perhaps Bonnie would have gone out with all three of us men, but being the only one any of us was interested in had serious consequences for friendships with the two other women. Maybe she was saddened that she could not pursue another date with any of us. Could be.
In the end, I also questioned the suspenders. I don't think I ever wore them again. Why would I?
Postscript:
In the months and years that followed, I enjoyed a number of relationships with intelligent, beautiful, women. Women that loved the music I did and who worked in the helping professions or were creative artists of all sorts. Ultimately, I married and removed myself from the wheel of fortune that is dating. As the technology has encroached on the dating game, I can't help but wonder what kind of person I'd meet if I left the algorithms in charge. Would she be anything like any of the 3 friends who sat with me on that eerily memorable evening.
Apparently, there was some set of rules in place that would govern the behavior of all in the aftermath of this group dinner date. It was fairly simple. Each person would receive a phone call telling them that either someone or no one was interested in seeing them again. Sounds cold-blooded. It was, but it was also a way to move beyond.
By the time my phone call arrived, about a week later, I'd figured out what had happened. All three of us men were clearly interested in only Bonnie. Susan and Marsha, though very nice people and fairly good company, inflicted no sparks. Bonnie was clearly the best looking of the 3 women and given the conversation was less than stimulating, it was all we had to go on. After all, we were men. We came into the evening with all the sex-role conditioning that growing up in the 1950s had to offer. Not that we hadn't evolved. In fact, Marvin and I, given our progressive politics were clearly impacted by first wave feminism and conscious of the social change that continued to impact male-female relationships as we grew from naive teenagers to centered, sensitive, open-minded men.
Sure enough the phone call I got the phone call and the message went down in less than a minute. I might have laughed, or smirked, but the emptiness I felt soon overwhelmed me. It felt like I came close in a job interview but my services were not wanted. It took all of one day for me to recover. When I realized that none of these people, including my friend Martin, really knew me, I turned the page vowing never to answer, hell, never to look at personal ads again.
Maybe this entire episode was more complicated than I thought. Perhaps Bonnie would have gone out with all three of us men, but being the only one any of us was interested in had serious consequences for friendships with the two other women. Maybe she was saddened that she could not pursue another date with any of us. Could be.
In the end, I also questioned the suspenders. I don't think I ever wore them again. Why would I?
Postscript:
In the months and years that followed, I enjoyed a number of relationships with intelligent, beautiful, women. Women that loved the music I did and who worked in the helping professions or were creative artists of all sorts. Ultimately, I married and removed myself from the wheel of fortune that is dating. As the technology has encroached on the dating game, I can't help but wonder what kind of person I'd meet if I left the algorithms in charge. Would she be anything like any of the 3 friends who sat with me on that eerily memorable evening.
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