This dating tale comes from another Chicago reader.
Artful Artie …A self possessed man with many possessions.
The conversation was excellent, he spoke of art, antiques and culture. The dinner, tasteful, a rather pleasant experience. Since he lived nearby, his invitation to see his extensive collection was enticing. So, naively I said sure. We pulled up to a large home and I was eager to see some of the items he had collected over the years. Treasures so richly described over dinner. He opened the door and a disaster awaited.
The interior was a mismatch of ugly. A cacophony of stuff purchased with no particular aesthetic or plan. It was everywhere and nowhere could I even discern a comfortable spot or perch to rest upon. To my dismay, not only had the home looked a jumble, but my host, my date, was immediately transformed into a self centered used car dealer.
Launching into detail on every purchase, his amazing skills at bargaining or besting someone to acquire this junk. He rambled on about this, that and the prices he paid. He ushered me though each room, top to bottom. As a captive audience, subjected to his litany, I began to wonder if he had already put a price tag on me.
This was my first of a series of dates since reentering the dating game and I had fallen for the oldest line the oldest cliche, “come over and see my etchings!” Fanning exhaustion (and after what seemed like hours listening to him, I truly was exhausted) I asked to go home.
Dropping me off at my door, before exiting his luxurious car (bought at a great bargain price) he grabbed to kiss me in way that felt uncomfortable. Not wishing to end up yet another trophy piled in a corner, I pulled away.
When he asked for another date. Sorry, I yawned, I was too very, very busy.