Ask the Middle-Aged Lesbian: MAL Meets MAL

Dear Middle-Aged Lesbian,

I know this sounds cracked. Well, I should have known better, right? Here’s my sad tale: I had an ad up for Internet dating and so I responded to her when she wrote. Her story was she was footloose and fancy-free, almost, with a son she shared custody of who was in high school. Her ex-husband and she co-parented just fine. She lived about 40 miles away and though she’d love to invite me over, it would probably be better to travel to my location, as it had better restaurants.

So, we went out for dinner. As part of dinner conversation, I asked her when the last time she had been with a man was, and she firmly stated that it was well over 3 years ago.

The horn-dog in me overcame my usually cautious nature in such matters, and we slept together about 20 minutes after we finished our dinner full of double-entendres and footsie under the table. It was a night to remember, to be sure. And, had she not left her watch at my place, things might have been totally different. I always seem to have trouble with the one-night stand.

So, along we go. I did notice that somehow I never went to her place. And, oddly, she told me this story about needing to move in with her ex-husband for a while to save expenses. And, I only had her cell phone number.

One day, after a dawning of, “What the fuck?” and probing beyond the superficial, she told me that she had always lived with her ex-husband, that she really meant she hadn’t been with a man not 3 years ago ago…oh, no….not 13 months ago…no, no, but 3 months ago (not her ex-husband), and oh, gosh, did she mention she was not out anywhere—in fact, was not a lesbian at all, but decidedly bi-sexual. But, she would be coming out—she was getting there, really. She produced divorce papers and indeed she was divorced for 10 years and seemed to be waiting for her much older husband to drink himself to death to get all he had. Still, she was some pretty hot stuff.

I continued to see her. One weekend, I’d had it. She once again spent a long stretch unavailable by cell because she was home and couldn’t take the call. I packed up her crap and left her a message. I was bringing her stuff to her house. I was through. It was driving rain. Miraculously, she had gotten the message and left me 25 voice mails while I drove. Amazing how attentive she could be after all. I wouldn’t pick up. That would teach her.

I arrived in front of her house. I called her again. I said, she can either come out and get it or I’d put it in the back of her truck in the driveway. She whined and cried that she couldn’t come out and threaten her situation. I left the stuff in the truck bed.

She called me a month later and wanted to take me to dinner. She missed me. She missed how I made her feel.

I let her take me to a very expensive restaurant and told her, for all to hear, I wasn’t going to fuck her in exchange for dinner, but what a great dinner. She threw her purse at me. We rode back in silence, she slammed the door and off she went.

MAL, should I have written a thank you for the dinner anyway?

Signed,
Much Smarter Now (aka MAL)

Dear MSN,

Thank goodness you are much smarter now. It took you, what, eight years? I saw you driving through that town today—your face in the rear view was a dead giveaway. Now, since I was there and I remember this all very clearly, all I can say is that there is a reason you are now in a place to have an advice column. You’ve made every stupid move there is to make in the existence of dating as we know it. Good thing you finally let your brain participate in your relationships. Dumb ass.

Self Love to You, MAL