I suppose it is about time to tell the story of Monkey Sex Man. I met him the very evening my divorce decree was signed by the judge a year and a half ago. I’d just signed up on one of those online dating sites that I was investigating out of curiosity. He contacted me initially and I checked out his profile. He listed his ideal first date as, “wild rampant monkey sex then we order out for Chinese and get to know each other”. I thought this was humorous so I agreed to meet him for drinks at a local little pub. What I didn’t know was that he wasn’t kidding about his ideal first date. I quickly learned this was a relationship best kept at a very safe distance. We ended up talking over the phone a few times, but each time we did, he made these broad generalizations about people and types of people as he saw them. These sweeping generalizations were seemingly based on very limited data. For example, he dated one woman from the same town I live in and now his opinion about women from my town is that they are all shallow, stupid, inconsiderate and materialistic. That’s just one of many such examples of the way Monkey Sex Man approached and categorized life. After about three or four phone conversations, with the last one ending last year about Valentine’s Day with him being so upset with the fact that I just wasn’t going to go out with him when he called me up with very little notice, he hung up on me and then blocked me from contacting him. I didn’t hear from him for a year.
About a month ago or so, I put up my profile at an online dating site. I added some of my more recent pictures. Two days later, I was contacted by Monkey Sex Man. He commented positively on my pictures saying I looked soft, feminine and sexy. I kept waiting for the caustic insult that usually followed statements like this (sarcastic humor he called it). There was nothing negative. I thanked him and that was it. He responded with some conversation. I responded back but not in an encouraging way. Somehow, we ended up meeting at a fairly popular place on a weeknight for cocktails. Well, it really wasn’t somehow. I was going to be over in his area anyway. I had 45 minutes to burn between appointments (do not read dates!) and I didn’t feel like going into a pub by myself. Besides, I was curious and needed a blog post. We talked, I stayed an hour and left.
He called me the following Sunday as he was barbecuing and invited me to come over for barbecue. My how some people just don’t change. He knows I’m driving the Titanic here with my single motherdom of dependent children and everyone knows the Titanic just doesn’t turn on a dime. Besides, knowing what he was about, I wasn’t going anywhere near his house. I politely declined and I thought that’d be the end of it.
He called me again last Saturday. There was a big parade in my town and he was in town for it. So, he stops in at a bar, uses their phone, calls me up to tell me he’s in town and was wondering if I was out at the parade. I wasn’t. He called later from the grocery store said he was sorry he missed me. Later that evening he called me up again an that time we ended up talking.
He told me how the stress of the parade, and how stupidly designed the on and off ramps in the community were. Everything about that experience was awful and he tried to go into it with an open mind. Then he told me that while he was at the parade he stopped at one of the free blood pressure check stations they had and the nurse told him his blood pressure was “dangerously high”. Ya think?!!!! He was seriously orbiting out of the galaxy just telling me about it.
Somehow, we got onto the topic of game playing and whether women should call men. He asked me if I was one of those who always expected the guy to make the first move. Loaded question and I was so not going to go into my whole “When A Man Is Really Into A Woman” philosophy. I answered his question with a “that depends upon the context” sort of answer. This sent his heart rate and his emotional state right around the twist.
“I can’t believe this,” he fumed. (Seriously, why should he be fuming? I mean, that’s even more drama than I could muster on a good day.) “I’ve got to go. My heart rate is dangerously high!” And he hung up.
And that’s pretty much all there is to the Monkey Sex Man story.