a Marxist form of dating

There wasn’t a plan to the whole dating thing.  It probably started out as a bit of fun, significant confidence booster, and an experiment for exploring boundaries.  Over the last few months I’ve begun to form friendships with perfectly decent blokes, some I liked better than others and so those lesser ones fell by the wayside.

How can I account for enjoying very much the company of two men but not others?  The two in question are not even that seriously committed to me.  One a commitment-phobe with a string of new dates every week and the other already married, and committed, with a family of his own.  Recently, I was being chatted up by a very attentive, gentlemanly sort of guy.  But there was something a little over-eager about him and I found myself comparing how less excited I was by his text messages to ones from the other two.

The senses are still a mysterious thing to me.  The other evening I went out with this new man – a tall, blue-eyed, slightly younger than me, reasonably good-looking man with wavy, salt and pepper hair who had been abandoned after a twenty year marriage and who was tentatively getting back on the dating cycle.  We’d had a couple of dates before and I’d been able to empathise with his past.  He behaved impeccably and we had another completely successful date – a film of my choosing, a meal, followed by walking the dog.  He was also incredibly solicitous in bed and dutifully put on the condoms when I insisted.  And yet, …. and yet despite all the kisses and caresses lavished on my body, the arousal I felt, the orgasms which we enjoyed, the cuddled sleep, the protected sex in the morning, I longed for some time to be alone – to drink my coffee and listen to the Today programme, to check my emails and messages and play another word game.  And so I told him a lie – that I had a very early start and he had to leave by half past seven, … which he did.

I would hate to think that I could write a date off because our politics differed – it is true that he leans very much more to the right.  I am not even that interested in politics and he is a decent man at heart.  He texted me to ask where we stood and I wondered briefly whether I was less than interested due to some (Groucho) Marxist principle – I didn’t want to belong to any club that would have me as a member.  If the man wanted me, I didn’t want him …

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