The Spider and The Fly

The planning of this date had all of the positive hallmarks – intelligent, lengthy emails and decent texts, no attempt to sext or have phone sex before we’ve even met. You know - all the tip top things. The guy was articulate, educated, and had a good career as an engineer for one of Austin’s many tech firms.  He was also cute.  Cute in the way of a tall, fit physique and an ethnicity I couldn’t quite identify – maybe some combination of eastern European and Mediterranean, I thought.

The date itself had a number of hallmarks that cause the brain to quietly scream “CAUTION!!!”.

After having messaged in depth about a range of topics, he asked me to have dinner with him.  I excitedly agreed and we made plans to meet at a popular local Austin iconic restaurant one weekday evening for a moderately late dinner.  I spent time to primp and look cute in one of my favorite little dresses and headed that way.

He had texted when I was nearly there to say that he had already arrived.  When I got there, I looked for him, but I couldn’t find him.  I texted back.  He said he was waiting inside with the blue collared shirt.  I told him I was by the hostess station.  I looked around again and walking toward me was a short, slender guy in a blue collared shirt.  I didn’t recognize him, but he was walking directly toward me.  I looked again.  The lighting was dim and paired together with his dark brown skin and black hair it made it hard to discern his features.  I would shortly learn that he was South American.  As I squinted I realized that, yes, this man had the same face shape and haircut as the man I was supposed to meet.  It was him, but he didn’t seem to match his pictures.  I tried to place exactly what was different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  This was red flag number one. 

I greeted him, still trying to figure out why this didn’t seem right.  All I could zero in on was that he was smaller than me, and I don’t find men who are clearly smaller than me attractive – my hands were at least as big as his, and I have small hands.  Maybe that’s unfair, but attraction isn’t necessarily PC.  I prefer being the smaller person in the pair.

Anyway, as I was digesting this I was silent.  He asked for a table.  I thought about leaving, then I decided ‘No, I waited to eat all evening.  Something’s off, but this is a perfectly public place and I’m hungry.’  Besides, I thought, maybe the conversation would at least be good - the messages had been.

The hostess seats us and we order drinks.  We start chatting lightly about work and the types of projects that we have on our plates.  We order dinner.  After a few more minutes, he pauses and then says, “You maintain eye contact.  That’s rare for a woman.”  I’ve been taught since childhood to look the person I’m talking with in the eye, and something in the way he says it suggests that he doesn’t like it.  This was red flag number two. 

Red Flag number three?  The fact that I didn’t feel at ease with what I perceived from those eyes I had contact with.  By the time dinner was served I knew not only would there not be a second date, but this one was on borrowed time.

At some point during the conversation over dinner he asks me whether I’m scary.  Then a few minutes later he asks whether I scare easily.  I am uncomfortable, but try to mask it.  I ask, “Why, are you scary?”

“Maybe you’ll find out.”  He replies. 

‘Maybe I won’t’, I think.  At this point I’m already starting to think about how to get out of this date gracefully. 

“What seems scary to the spider seems normal to the fly.” He says calmly, mis-quoting Charles Addams famous line, “Normal is an illusion.  What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.”  I follow his meaning, and I have no intention of being the fly to his spider.  And here we have red flag number four.

I’m creeped out.  I’m actively thinking about how to end this date.  He finishes eating first and I take another bite or two and then fold my silverware over my plate.  He offers dessert.  I say “no thank you” and tell him that I’m kind of tired after my long day. 

He takes care of the check and we walk out into the parking lot.  I didn’t intend for him to walk me to my car, but he happens to be parked two spots down from me.  I have no intention of kissing him, but something about this date suggests to me that it’s better to let him believe he has the upper hand.  I give him a big hug and tell him thank you and goodnight.  He says good night and I walk to my car before anything else can happen. 

I start my car and then leave as quickly as I can, watching to make sure he doesn’t follow me.  ‘Phew’, I think.  He texts me after I’m home to say he’d had a nice time and would like to see me again.  I tell him thank you for the dinner and conversation.  He makes an attempt at risqué banter – something about my night clothes.  I don’t take the bait and then he apologizes, assuming he’s crossed a boundary.  I let that assumption hang in the space between us.  If it gives him reason to believe that’s what put me off, then that’s just as well.

I lay in bed thankful for his assumption of my offense and happy to dodge what seemed like a very creepy bullet.

The next morning, he sends me a text apologizing for being out of line and I reply that it was too forward for me – it’s as graceful a way as any to end my interactions with him.  I pull out my computer to re-read his description and look at this pictures.  He claimed to be taller than he was, but more important than that – his pictures were doctored.  He looked lighter skinned, his hair was light brown instead of black, he was more thickly built.  The pictures looked like him, but were not him or were severely filtered.  Our entire meeting was based on a deception.

Next time: walk out at red flag number one.