I met him along my travels; almost 6 feet tall and what they call dashing. I’d heard the word before but had never really associated it with a living man as I did with him. He was a couple of years younger and had a smile that would cause a pride of lionesses to swoon – I know, if he lived in a game park, cubs would stare as their mothers drooled over that young lion, never mind that he had no mane. His hair was cut short, his body athletic and so proportionate one would think the Maker took to a whole mathematical set when creating him.
As our paths crossed almost on a daily basis, we indulged in small-talk – you know the kind of questions and answers you exchange with strangers. Needless to say, there was electricity threading our brief encounters and conversations; there was that unspoken attraction that bubbles up to people who are drawn to each other and leaves them yearning and wondering about the possibility of things.
As days went by, he went beyond what I would call the F.A.Q stage and began waxing lyrical. He told me how beautiful I was, showed me small gestures and acts from which great meaning could have been derived. This is so girly of me to say, but he was sweet. Before I knew it, things had revolved around a turnstile 1,000 times, and as we spent a lot of semi-platonic time together, he went beyond small acts and gestures and began using heavy words.
No no no, I don’t mean words like pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis or supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I mean that his conversations began looking to the future and it was barely a month since we’d met; he talked of commitment and even tried to add his surname to names to see how they would sound. I was drawn to him. Nevertheless, there was a ‘but’ somewhere. I just needed to put my finger on it.
So I applied my litmus test (don’t ask me what kind of test ;)) and the short of the story is that Mr. Suave’s aims were very short term. His talk was long range, but his intentions weren’t. I have to say that at some point, the amount of b.s. that a woman is able to put up with can be directly proportionate to how hot a man is (appeal is relative), and certainly this was the case but it didn’t last that long.
Before your mind starts doing a ‘Usain Bolt’, I only called him this because it reminded me of Mr. Big in the Sex and the City series. This is not to say that the two Mr. Big’s are similar, but I just thought they bring the same warmth to a woman’s heart, if only for a moment. And they’re both older men, one a fictional character though ;).
I met Mr. Big after I’d met Mr. Suave. We’d both travelled to the same destination for different purposes and happened to be staying at the same location. Our paths crossed as we regularly served plates of food, made cups of tea and enjoyed the cool waters of the evening. He was not dashing or elegant but he had one cracking smile. He had a tattoo on the back of his shoulder that gave him a hedonistic appeal as he swam in the ocean.
After sharing tables a few times, getting over the F.A.Q stage, I think he was taken by me; he was not a slim man but it seemed like I had swept him off his feet without even trying to (maybe I have a cracking smile too ;)). He said he was married but obviously, since rings are not put around mouths or other parts of the anatomy – just the fingers, he was not to be stopped in his pursuit of charm.
The long and short of it is that he offered me a life on the side – he would not mind to spend time with an intelligent, beautiful woman like me, he wouldn’t tell if I didn’t tell. He was not afraid of commitment, he takes care of his own and if that is what it resulted to, then he would own up to his responsibilities – on the side.
He told me that I should be looking for a companion in life, not a husband; that whilst marriage has its merits, its demerits were much more; that most men do not make good husbands (they may make good fathers, but not good husbands).
Mr. Big has eaten life with a big soon; he’d almost come full circle and knew his way around a woman’s dreams; he wanted to stoke the fires of those dreams until they got him his desires. His talk was what I would call medium range but with a lot of underlying tones of short term gains. As much as I enjoyed the company, I was glad when my stay was over and that we’d most likely never be in touch.
When I look back, I am always struck by how well these men told me what I most wanted to hear just for their own ambition, but somehow, thanks to heavenly grace and the little wisdom life has bestowed on me, I never fell for the words. Yes, I was enchanted, flattered, attracted but Mr. Big and his ring were a boundary I wouldn’t dream of crossing, and Mr. Suave, his physique and charm were just another passing cloud that would have rained on my parade had I not read the signs.
It is certainly better to be bruised by life than to have your heart broken. I’m glad mine wasn’t.