Dating Diary #4

Lawyers and Doctors on the landline

September 15, 2022

Dear Diary,

A lot has transpired since we spoke last. I mentioned Andrew (Andy) and Doc in my last entry so I can give you the goods on those interactions today. I’ve read that dating men in certain professions is ill-advised. I can’t speak from experience, but I’ve been told firefighters aren’t the most loyal of creatures. Perhaps it’s the life or death situations they find themselves in on the regular—adrenaline junkies, maybe? I don’t know, but I’ll certainly report back should my firefighter dating status change. I’ve also heard dating pilots is a giant no-no. Legend has it they like to keep a gal in every port. Again, I don’t know if this is true, as I have no clinical data to report back on. Attorneys and doctors, specifically surgeons, are also **allegedly** red flags. On these two professions I do have some first-hand experience to report on.

Let’s start with Andy; he’s a lawyer, patent law, to be specific. We matched on Bumble. He’s 54 years old, divorced for several years, and co-parents a child with his ex. The on-app conversations started off as most do, with me pulling information and asking broad, open-ended questions. Unlike other matches, Andy did a great job chatting once I got the ball rolling for us. He’s incredibly intelligent. Initially, I couldn’t quite figure out if his use of big words was deliberately pretentious or if that was just his speed. Either way, it was fun, and we decided to have a phone conversation. Andy has a landline; when did you last speak with someone on a landline? It’s been a minute, no? The conversation on the phone was a little more work than texting, and my knack for asking open-ended questions was put to the test by what I can only assume was Andy’s shy demeanor. Perhaps a touch socially awkward, but seriously, aren’t we all socially awkward from time to time? Online dating is like manna when it comes to creating socially awkward situations. I figured it best to direct the conversation towards something Andy seems very passionate about, his work. So that’s what I did, and I sat for a good thirty minutes listening to case after case of his patent law work. I wouldn’t exactly call it riveting, but Andy clearly enjoyed telling me all about it. So, I listened and tried to chime in with questions here and there. I am not a lawyer, I don’t even play one on tv. At the end of the call, we arranged to meet the following weekend for coffee. Great. Two days later, Andy called again, this time to cancel our date and end our connection. So, kudos to this grown man for not standing me up or ghosting because lord knows men of his big age who haven’t mastered a skincare routine have definitely mastered the art of the ghost. His reasoning made me chuckle. Apparently, he spent a considerable amount of time rehashing our phone conversation, and he felt quite strongly my inability to talk to him about his work on his level would hinder any potential relationship we could have. In fact, he went on to tell me he divorced his ex-wife because her lawyerly skills were not as strong and robust as his, and he felt she couldn’t keep up with him in their nightly discussions about work. He even shared her LSAT score disparagingly. It’s safe to say his pretentious word choice was not a bug; it was deliberate. I’m left to wonder if Andy is looking for a romantic partner or a business partner with whom to open a law firm. Either way, I do appreciate his open honesty about his needs in a relationship right off the bat. That part is refreshing. While I don’t know how he will find that on Bumble, I wish him well. I think he’s a genuinely kind man; he didn’t have to call or give me any sort of closure. I respect that. And I respect a man who knows what he wants and doesn’t drag things out, making the dating process harder than it already is. Basically, Andy told me I was too dumb for him, but he did it politely and with a couple of SAT words that made me agree somewhat with the veracity of his implication. Old Donna would’ve been offended by that. Old Donna was such a people pleaser she would’ve looked for online courses to learn all about patent law to keep up, even if doing so made her miserable. Old Donna is dead and buried; Andy tossed some dirt on it. That’s okay, I still have Doc on the roster.

Doc is not just a doctor, he is a surgeon. You know how we say things like “Well, it’s not rocket science” or “It’s not like I’m curing cancer” when we screw something up? Well, Doc is basically curing cancer most days. Buckle in Dearest Diary because Doc’s story is a doozy. Doc (56) and I matched on Hinge; his profile had very handsome, flattering pictures and thoughtful prompt answers. I’m realizing good pictures for the 50+ crowd are a rarity. He commented on a photo of mine taken in Italy. I commented on a photo of him sitting outside a coffee shop, reading a book, looking decidedly grumpy and put out. Not a staged sort of photo, one that captured him truly bothered by whomever pulled him from his book to take his picture. I learned his adult daughter took that picture, so he’d have some good ones for his dating profile. Of course, someone not 50+ was in charge of his profile photos! That explains it! Doc and I chatted sporadically inside the app for about six weeks. Every time I thought he’d ghosted our situation, and I was ready to unmatch and move on, he’d pop back in with a clever pun or story. Doc asked to take our conversation to a phone call. Another man with a landline. Who are these old souls I’m matching with? Two men with landlines back to back. We jumped on a call and ended up chatting for an hour. Doc is remarkably easy to talk to and seemed genuinely interested in my life, thoughts, and dreams. Probably the best conversation I’ve had with a man since I joined the apps. A girl could get used to that. Towards the end of our chat, Doc explained he was going out of town to spend time with his two adult children, but upon his return, he’d like to meet for coffee. Fantastic! The date was set, and I was very curious and excited. At 56, he's the oldest man I’ve ever dated. Ex was fourteen months younger than me. I’d never dated an older man, even if four years isn’t some scandalous age gap. Math is math, he's an older man, no? Oh, sweet summer child, yes, he is.

When I arrived for our coffee date, I easily found him waiting by the coffee shop door. He looked exactly like his pictures: tanned skin, fit, a headful of salt and pepper hair, a furrowed brow, very nice jeans, a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled just so, and a warm smile. I was quite pleased. This online dating thing is finally taking a solid good turn. Let’s go get that coffee, sir. This almost feels too good to be true.

Coffee was secured, and we found a table a little out of the way in this bustling establishment. Doc even pulled my chair out for me. Score one for the older man with good manners. After about twenty minutes of lively conversation and witty banter—some of my best work if I’m being honest, Doc’s brow furrowed more than its usual furrow. He told me he was really enjoying our conversation and hoped what he was about to tell me wouldn’t make me run for the hills. Great. Just fucking great. My overactive imagination ran with that, and I came up with no less than fifty worst-case scenarios in the amount of time it took him to set his coffee cup down and look into my eyes. Is he married? Does he run a cult? Is he a serial killer? An angel of death in the OR? Is he part of a MLM scheme using his good looks to sell me something? Does he hate cats? Children? Red wine? Does he kick puppies for sport? What could it be, man? What could it be? Please don’t ruin this good time for me, Doc, don’t be a creep; you’re too handsome to be a creep. Spit it out already!

Nope, none of those things. Something, after meeting him face to face, I did not see coming. Doc is not 56, but he surely is 66 years old, and he very soon to be 67. This man either has some special skincare routine only available at speakeasy-style hydration bars or an incredibly good gene pool. The man did not look that old, not even close. What else is he lying about? Shit, did I just say that out loud to him?

Yes, yes, I did. I was fully expecting him to tell the old standby excuse; he made a mistake setting up his account and can’t change his age. Dearest Diary, and anyone else who might read this—if a man tells you this about his profile age, he’s either stupid or lying because changing your age on a dating profile is as easy as logging in, going to settings, and typing in accurate data. I digress. No, Doc did not say he made a mistake with his age; he said he purposely set it as ten years younger because he only dates younger women. According to him, he lives a very active lifestyle, and he has discovered that women his age struggle to keep up with him. To his credit, he did have some pretty intense pictures of him doing some of his hobbies, like rock climbing and hiking, which looked like a very rugged terrain. Dear Diary, am I going to overlook his blatant deception? If so, can I also overlook his reasoning that made me feel what I’ve learned is the ick? Am I going to put my red flag concerns aside for a handsome doctor who gave me some of the best conversation I’ve had basically in my entire adult life? Yes, it appears I am because I agreed to join him for dinner later that night. Look, we listen, and we don’t judge.

I’ve never been the younger woman. I’ve never dated an older man. Our age gap is 15 years. What’s that math equation about dating younger? Half your age plus twelve? I’m several years older than the answer to that question. Doc is clearly wealthy, intelligent, empathetic, well traveled, a great conversationalist, and did I mention handsome? Dearest Diary, it’s a brave new world, and I’m grabbing this one by the horns; why not?