Although I don't float well, I'm the Michael Phelps of the dating pool. Fine, the Mark Spitz then. I know how to avoid the mischievous little pricks.
For example, I had a woman grill me last weekend. Every question she asked me began with "What's wrong with you ...," although she didn't speak the words. She tried to make me the patient so she could play doctor and fix me.
"[What's wrong with you?] Don't you want to have a girlfriend?"
"I don't need a girlfriend."
"But, [what's wrong with you], don't you want one?"
"If someone comes along in a situation where we can enhance each other's lives, I'll consider it."
"You'd 'consider' it? [What's wrong with you?]"
"[What's wrong with you?] Wouldn't you like a partner to have sex with regularly?"
"Yes, but I don't need one ... yet."
"If my dry spell extends into the warmer months, I'll have to make some sacrifices."
"[What's wrong with you?] You mean you'll go visit a prostitute?"
"I can find amateur ladies who need lovin'. There's an entire neighborhood of sex-starved, neglected wives less than five miles from here."
"[What's wrong with you?] You'd sleep with a married woman?"
"Not my first choice."
"That's awful. [What's wrong with you?] Don't you have any morals?"
"Fewer every year. I think I'm growing out of them."
She was badgering me, trying to create the bad boy she could tame. Not happening.
There's another type of woman, with similar tactics. Yet, I suspect these women are unaware of what they're doing. I'm referring to the motherly type. When they find a man they like, they look for neediness they can address. If the man is secure, the motherly woman feels worthless. Ironically, needy men will eventually drive her crazy, she'll swear off them, and wind up right back with another needy Ned.
"I like to cook. You should let me make you dinner."
"That's very nice of you. I also like to cook. I'll have you over."
"Um. OK, I'll make us dinner at your house."
"No, silly. I'm the host. I'll make you dinner."
"Well, I'll bring wine and bake a lovely dessert. What's your favorite?"
"I have a full rack and frozen cookie dough. You'll be my guest and your company is all I need."
"I'll bring cat toys for Syd and Symon."
"I already live in a cat house. They're fine. Just come wearing a smile."
"You probably enjoy doing laundry and ironing too."
"As a matter of fact, I do."
At this point the motherly lass finds excuses to back out. She needs to be needed. I want to want. How do these life puzzle pieces ever fit together?