There probably aren’t any good guys left

02/01/2009

I love receiving fan mail. Don’t we all? Except I don’t receive many long, detailed emails; only a few. So his email impressed me. And I read it again. When I decided to respond to it, I saw he wants to chat to me; we are both Gmail users.

See, I’m a Bad Person™. You already know that. But I do sometimes wish to meet my Knight in Shining Armour. Just sometimes. But I know that this is ‘real life’, so I carry no expectations.

For a while I had this fantasy: a sweet, intelligent (single) guy reads this blog and somehow, falls in love with me. I think they call this a ‘pipe dream’ or ‘shameful fantasy’. But it was nice. I’d curl up in bed and I’d dream dreams of this young man. He’d be charming, successful, intelligent and be nothing like Victor, Toby, Nick or Gareth. He’d be like the Jozi boytjie, actually. He’d have only good qualities. Or only one flaw.

He’d contact me through the tarah sweeney at gmail dot com address and we’d email each other constantly. We’d fall in love over email. We’d meet, and he’d be as charming IRL as over Gchat.

Something like this happened. Somehow someone found my blog, even though it wasn’t a simple ‘stumble upon’; this was different. He found my blog through a different channel: I posted an ad on Gumtree and used the tarah sweeney at gmail dot com addy. That ad. hmmm. I promise I was bored when I posted the ad on Gumtree. I can’t tell you the title; you might remember it from browsing the ‘Casual Section’. Hell, what if you responded to it?

I got many replies. From married men. From singles. From men who only wanted to see what I look like. From men who wanked themselves silly over the possibility of meeting me.

The ad had nothing to do with Uri’s suggestion. I promise that, too. What he suggested I shall not say.

Someone responded. He sounded nice. And somehow, I responded to the ad he placed on the Gummy Tree, too. And I mentioned this in my email to him. He is involved in a long-term relationship, coloured, a young professional who likes the good things: whisk(ey), wine and pretty girls. I was interested, but not much: his relationship status bothered me. For a change, I didn’t want to be the other woman. So I never responded. He persisted, though. But then he gave up. Or so it seemed.

He sent me an email, claiming to love my blog. But he used a different email addy and a different identity. Of course I felt flattered. I’m a wanna-be writer so it’s only natural that I’d feel proud. We spent two or three hours chatting over Gchat and he somehow convinced me to meet him for coffee. Everything was perfect: I was wearing a snazzy outfit; I felt confident; I didn’t feel threatened. We had a great evening, and then I saw him again.

And something felt different. He was vague about how he had ‘stumbled upon’ my blog. He doesn’t blog at all and this confused me. How many coloured guys read blogs? Hey, I’m just being curious, OK? I also noticed that we didn’t have much to talk about. It disappointed me. There we were at a wonderful restaurant with nothing to talk about.

So I sent him an sms. I told him I know he posted that ad on Gumtree. He obviously claimed innocence. And acted hurt that I did not believe him. And we didn’t speak for a while until he emailed me again — or did he send me an sms? — to ask whether I’d like to have a coffee with him. I felt bad about my prior outburst so I offered to buy him coffee. Which I did.

And then he told me that he did actually place that ad on Gumtree. Reader, I cried. I wasn’t a pretty sight at La Playa that day. And the damn toilets are so far away, too.

I couldn’t handle the idea that he’s involved with someone. After Uri I promised myself I won’t ever get involved with a man who is not available. I am amoral but I’d like to think I am improving slightly. Being an atheist does not give me the liberty to hurt other people. I hate being lied to. It’s bad enough that my sister Elizabeth lied to me about the iPod; I don’t also want to be lied to by someone who claims he’s interested in me. I am rather naive [this year].

I’ll admit that we have been emailing each other a bit since that day. Not recently, though. But somehow our plans always get cancelled. Perhaps it’s better like that.

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