Assumptions

The other day I was remembering a guy in Arlington, Virginia, whom I dated about a thousand years ago. Well, really, it was in 1990, I believe. I was living in Arlington at the time, in the condo Tyler and I bought after the original split with John. (Yes, that is how I remember things — based on men and houses and Tyler's education.)

This guy was the best friend of the lawyer/author I was working for at the time. My boss neglected to mention, when he set me up with the guy, that he measured only about 5'4" or 5'5". In fact, it turned out that the husband of one of my best friends was bar mitzvah'd with this guy in Philadelphia. When my friend told her husband, who was about 5'6", that I was going out with this guy, my friend's husband said, "Wow, he's short." When a guy who's 5'6" says somebody is short, you know you've got a problem. Especially if you're 5'8"!

But I digress. This guy was sorta interesting and I was hard up at the time. Okay, so I'm basically always hard up, but we'll let that one go. He was a ham radio operator (as was my brother and husband #2 and EEFFH and the Kayaker — wait, do I see a pattern? are there too many hams in the world?). He was an attorney with the FCC. He was nice-looking and funny.

But he was also rather quirky. He owned two cars: a classic Mercedes and a Datsun. The Mercedes slept on the curb in front of his house, always covered with a custom cover. I don't believe I ever got to ride in the Mercedes. We went everywhere in the Datsun or in my car. And he was obsessed about not eating fat. He loved pizza, but when the pizza arrived at the table, he'd pick up paper napkins and sop up all the fat pooling on the surface. Really.

So the point of my story is assumptions and expectations. Once I started sleeping with him (okay, I told you I was hard up), he would assume every date would end with that activity. He never came to my apartment without bringing his contact lens case. I was very put off by that. Maybe he was a boy scout - always prepared. I don't know.

And that leads me to the second example of assumptions. This is much more recent — within the past six months. This guy fell asleep in my bed and stayed there all night. Guys! Really! We expect you to get up and go home — that's what guys do. I hardly slept at all that night, because I kept expecting him to get up and dash out the door.

Maybe he was afraid that his motorcycle would wake my neighbors. Maybe he liked my bed better than his own.

The moral of the story: Guys, the first couple of times you are pondering staying over, how about asking if we mind. A simple "may I stay" or "do you mind if I fall asleep" would be so much nicer than leaving us lying there, waiting for you to leap up and make for the door.
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And just to let you know I've been working since my last post, I've published the first two pages of the site for my friends in Washington.