Dating at any age, but for sure at my age, requires learning to read cues and step around land mines.
I remember the smooth talker who worked in the cannabis industry ("I don't partake," he told me. "Sure," I thought). He agreed to meet for our first date at that mountaintop resort I like with the valet parking, but the night we were there, the wind decided to join the party.
What started as a warm, sunny afternoon dropped the temps about 20 degrees as the sun began to set. The place is full service, so our waiter immediately brought a cozy throw for us as we sat side-by-side on an outdoor sofa, then turned slightly to face one another.
He told me how proud he was of both his kids, college students and star athletes, asked about my family, shared his hobbies and paid attention when I talked about mine, then paid the bill without waiting to see if I was going to take it, a common ploy among men who are, let's just say, thrifty.
We had a comfortable, easy time filled with laughter coupled with an intelligent back-and-forth about politics, writing and single life.
His text afterwards thanked me for the date, said he'd call when he returned from a trip and then added, "You're a high quality individual!"
"Well, you won't hear from him again," my bestie Jack said when I told him about the date.
"Why the heck not?? I'm a high quality individual!"
Kiss. Of. Death.
"Trust me," Jack lamented, "I may be gay, but I know that's not a line you use if you're hot for somebody. He just let you down easy."
Turns out, Jack was almost right. The guy disappeared and re-surfaced with a text about five months later asking me to dinner. In the months since I last saw him, I put my FBI hat on and did a bit more digging into this man's life to find out that he neglected to mention he had three kids--a 14-year-old daughter as well as the two 20-somethings.
I knew he wasn't long-term material for me, but hey, a night out for dinner sounded good.
As we pulled up stools at the restaurant's bar, I asked good-naturedly where he'd been since our last date. He fessed up that he'd met a much younger woman and became smitten; they even talked about starting a family together.
I couldn't resist.
"Oh, so your three kids, including the one who still lives at home, aren't enough for you?"
He looked puzzled, but recovered nicely and said he considered another child because he was in lust with this younger woman, and when that wore off, he realized he needed to date closer to his own age.
"You really look beautiful in yellow," he said, deftly steering the convo another way, as he admired my outfit and ran his fingers along my forearm.
I'll give the guy this: He listened enough when we first met to know that I wasn't interested in dating men who still had kids at home. Yes, I love kids and I've raised mine and two bonus kids during my lengthy marriage, but I'm a free bird now who's only interested in back-to-school nights--with my grandkids. So he kept his youngest a secret, I guess, until he decided if we had a future.
Or, as the rom-com's title says, "He's Just Not That Into you." Maybe I was too high quality for him?
Another guy I had a date with that year employed a different strategy--we had lunch and drinks and as the date was winding down, he asked to keep it going. "Let's see a movie tonight," he said. I declined since I had other plans, but he persisted saying he wanted to know me better. "I just want whatever makes you happy," he told me.
His offer to make me happy kept buzzing in my head after we parted, and I finally hit upon why that phrase felt like putting on a pair of jeans two sizes too small.
It felt pushy or desperate, and maybe both.
I know my past sure looked "happy" with its forever dream house, postcard-worthy vacations and hand-holding walks with my ex. But the day it ended, and I looked behind the scenes of my marriage, I saw the little red flags of doubt, the twist I felt in my gut when he did or said something that didn't fit the puzzle.
As we say in Kansas, sometimes life's like the Wizard blowing smoke up Dorothy's blue and white gingham skirt. When she asks him a question in the Land of Oz, she discovers the Wizard doesn't have all the answers.
So when my date says, "I just want whatever makes you happy?" I smile and say the thing I wish I'd been able to say my whole life: "That's not your job. It's mine."