I never dreamed that dating an older gentleman would turn into a disaster. As an adult, you figure even if something doesn’t work out, your reaction doesn’t say “You killed my pet,” or “I don’t know that I can go on without you.” Mr. Pouty Pants was just this side of losing it.
Terry was a local guy I met on an interracial dating site. The Web site works just like any of the other dating sites. The main difference is you have men and women who are looking to date outside of their ethnic background.
Terry was nice. He had manners, could hold a conversation, was funny and thought I was a queen. What’s not great about that? We did a lot of chatting online before meeting face-to-face, which helped me decide if I wanted to actually meet him.
We went out twice. The first time we went out, we met at Biggby Coffee. I should have gotten a clue when, during that meeting, he said something about dates being split 50-50. I thought it strange and then moved on. I had paid for our drinks that evening.
The following Friday, we went to dinner at Houlihan’s. It was during that date that I got a lot of food for thought. I found out that Terry was actually 16 years older than me. I thought he was 10 years older because of the age listed on his profile. Then, there were things that I discovered about his family and their feelings on interracial dating. Let’s just say they weren’t fans. When you are in a serious relationship with someone, you inherit the family too, so keep that in mind.
There were a few other things that I had to consider after that evening. I really felt like this was not going to work long-term. Yeah, it would be fun for a while. Terry was ready for us to be exclusive and would have done anything I wanted.
Here is where the pouting comes in. When I called him to say that I didn’t see this working out, I was suddenly talking to Eeyore. I had put this off because I didn’t want it to be messy. It was. I even prayed that God would just handle it for me. He didn’t.
Now, I apparently owe Mr. Pouty Pants $20 for dinner.