Massage, anyone?

There's this married guy who's so hot for me he actually showed up at my yoga class. O, I punished him for that. We are talking a dearth situation, and that applies moreso to the women than the men, unless it's the rare guy looking for an age appropriate female. Yes, the rest of the world still hates Charles for dumping that dimwit Di in favor of the haggard Camilla, but I ADORE him for it. I have a picture of them hanging in my office. My friend says she always wants marriages to work out. Other than Charles and Camilla, not me. It probably started with my own parents--please, put us all out of our misery!--but I tend to be very quick to think, oh, get the hell out of that. Which makes it even odder that, even considering everything that's happened, I still don't want to divorce my husband. But it will be soon now.

Back to the married dude. Despite the paucity of choice, I'm not going there. He sends me a text, something about dinner and shisha. OK, sure, I text back. Not because I've changed my mind in the span of one sentence, but because I'm thinking this is a good experiment to see how to play this dating game again, watch how differently I respond to a man I'm not attracted to, observe the inversely proprtionate relationship between that and his "need" to have me. Why not. How about Wed night?

He texts back to tell me he thinks he may have plans. Sounds good, but he'll have to check. OK, whatever. Maybe he's thinking, as all men do, yikes, she's into me, better watch that. Even if he's thinking, I can't do that to my wife, there's still that sickening assumption that I'm there for him in that part of the bargain. But again, whatever.

Then he writes to ask if I mean to torture him with this yoga business, which could only have been a pretense for the idea of massage, which he then introduced. Something about it being OK if I gave a good massage.

What?

Are you fucking kidding me?

You're fucking kidding me.

I texted back, "Let me disabuse you right now of the notion of myself as a giver of massage." Yes, those were the real words in the text.

Hi, it's called Thai Lady, numty, and while you're there, pick me up a gift certificate.

Perhaps this was his attempt to segue into moving our text relationship to something naughty, but come on! Again, it would help if I found him in the slightest attractive. I could do dirty texting without follow up. I think. (Note to self: Recall that previous dirty texting had disappointing follow up.) It's hard to imagine a lack of correlation between a man's come on and his coming, in this case, our dude is expressing a real desire to be serviced. No thanks.

The next day he texts to tell me he is in fact busy Wed. That's it. Nothing else. So much for my grand powers of observation. His need may have stopped burning but I bet his muscles haven't.