Dating Playfully

Once upon a time I dated a guy. When I met him in a coffee shop, he flirted with me masterfully. He was subtle and friendly, asking me about the book I was reading. We exchanged numbers and he called me the next day.

The relationship didn’t last for a variety of reasons. When we went on dates during the day, we’d laugh a lot and have a great deal of fun.

But then came the night time phone calls.

The first time he called late in the evening he seemed suicidal. I was concerned and spent over an hour talking to him. But after multiple such calls, I told him he needed to find a therapist, and I could not act as a proxy for one. We broke up shortly after that.

However, there were good things about the relationship.

He was intelligent and well read. We could talk about anything, from music to art to books to physics and philosophy. He knew a little bit about everything, which helped him make friends with anyone. He was also handsome, which, along with his personality, made him charming.

That made it fun to go out with him because we alwas got excellent service.

One trait I really enjoyed was his playfulness.

Sometimes he played silly jokes on me which I didn’t always appreciate, but then I could play a silly joke on him, and he took it pretty well.

We also played little games with each other.

One time I asked him what animals we’d be if we were animals.

I told him he would be a squirrel because he was cute, hyper and smart but not cautious. Plus I had fed squirrels out of my hand when I visited Montreal, and they were really soft.

He told me he thought I’d be a red panda.

Of course, at the time, I didn’t know what that was but he assured me it was very cute.

When I looked it up, I was very flattered.

Another thing in his favor — he made an effort to get to know my friends. When we were invited to a potluck, he made a tasty side dish for us to take and mingled with everyone. My friends really liked him.

But my mother didn’t. That should have warned me. She only met him once, when she and Dad visited, but that was enough for her to dislike him.

It took me a little longer to figure it out.

Which leads to a piece of advice that no one seems to follow — if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.

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The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer

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