Walking the Walk & Talking the Talk

There is a very handsome man that I've been talking to. He is very charming & has a very good conversation. I enjoyed speaking to him and found myself looking forward to chatting with him. We seemed to have lots in common and he was very funny. When he asked me over to cook for me, I found it to be a very sweet gesture. I love a man who can cook!

I must admit that there was a little voice in my head that said that I should make him come to me. I dismissed that voice as the voice of skepticism. Optimism was the word of the day, and dam it, he may be Mr. Right. So, I ventured out and followed his pristine directions to his place. When I arrived at the address I was given, it didn't seem like a home, more like a building. I dismissed my reservations since there had been lots of renovations in that area. It could be perfectly fine on the inside.

I called him from my cell phone, and he came outside. He was beaming. Just as handsome, and sweet as always. He helped me out of my car, and showed me inside. Just seeing him, I felt better about the situation. He invited me in & told me to make myself at home. At that moment, it seemed like I was one of those terminator machines that was sizing up my environment at warp speed. My senses were working overtime to process what I was seeing. As my eyes panned the room for some sort of indication as to how this place would be anything like my home, he went into the kitchen.

My eyes saw a filthy concrete floor, beer cans & bottles littered about. His computer system was an ancient mass of filth and his sofa & love seat had no legs on them & were also dirt ridden. He had several empty cups scattered, a huge mirror that had so much dust on it you could not see anything, and his curtains looked as if they hadn't been laundered in 20 years. I asked him if he was in the process of remodeling. He answered that it was a loft. I don't know what that had to do with it, but ok...I followed him to the kitchen & he offered me food of which I immediately refused. On my way to the kitchen, I saw a huge dog dish and noticed clothes scattered all about. As I looked around, he asked me if I wanted the tour, of which I immediately refused again. Just as my nose began to decipher between the horrible food smell & the scent of the two rottweilers he owned, my mind began to plot my exit.

I must digress for a moment and go back to the many conversations I've had with this guy. He was not a man who seemed crazy or bazaar in any way. He spoke with intelligence and had impeccable manners. I had to wonder how a man who gave no indication that he was mentally deficient in any way, could live in such squalor. He invited me over. He knew I was coming, and did nothing to make his home presentable for me.

After I made my exit, I thought about the advice I gave my friend about going out for practice & experience. This is far more than a notion. I kept thinking about the ad campaign for V-8, and how I could have better utilized that 30-45 minutes of my life. After getting over being personally offended that his home wasn't presentable, I got down to the real issue of this man not having a decent living environment for himself. He seemed so sensible, yet lived in such a way that I could not comprehend. In my eyes, it had nothing to do with money, or decor. This was a matter of how one chooses to live their life when nobody is watching. His home was not only acceptable to him, but also fit to entertain others. Don't get me wrong, I've seen worse. I've heard of those people who live a totally normal life on the outside, and won't invite you in because their home is a mess. But this seems different.

My discomfort must have been obvious. When he noticed that I did not want to take my coat off, or sit my purse down he made a remark that I seemed to be "high maintenance". He said that I seemed like a woman who was spoiled & was used to getting what I wanted. I felt the anger rising in me, but stayed focus on the immediate plan which was to get out of there pronto! Otherwise I would have explained to him that the problem was not me being high maintenance or spoiled. The problem was that he presented himself to be a clean cut man with a lot going for himself, yet chose to live in his own filth. The biggest problem was that he invited me to endure his filth for several very valuable minutes of my life, and although brief, was indeed too long for me. Although I tried to be tactful and still give him the benefit of the doubt, he tried to make me feel like my standards were too high so that I would come down to a level where that environment would be acceptable.

If anything he did just the opposite. He made me appreciate how meticulous my household was at home. He made me long for it every second I was there. I even fantasized for a split second about how it was just there waiting for me to come back & enjoy it. See, it doesn't cost anything to be clean. You can live in the worst environment, and still be neat & tidy within it. Your circumstances don't dictate your quality of life. The clutter and filth that he was enthralled in, had nothing to do with the money he made, the building he was housed in, or his intelligence. It is a conscious choice of standards and quality. He is an able bodied man who could easily have a decent living environment. Nothing that a little elbow grease couldn't fix...It came down to talking the talk and walking the walk-even when nobody is looking.

I know that as women, we make a lot of concessions for our men. Oftentimes, if the shoe was on the other foot, we may not be able to get away with a lot of what we let men slide with. He is obviously used to women not saying anything about that mess he lives in, or maybe they sweep in with their magic broom and clean it for him. It does not matter. Many of us come to the table with our careers, our beauty, our manners, and our best recipes only to be met with garbage. That isn't fair. Yes, we all have issues and that is part of the work that goes into the relationship. But there is much to be said about the way that we approach things in life from the beginning. To me, the most work to be done, is on one's self. This issue was so overwhelming to me, that I had no time to show him anything about me. I had no desire to do so. If this was the way he was going to present himself, hell I didn't even have to wash my face or take a shower let alone apply my make-up or spritz on my fragrance. I could have done the least bit possible, but along with that not being the way we (as women) are groomed, it just isn't how I roll. I have a lot to offer, but it isn't just for anybody. It's for someone who appreciates it, and is striving just like I am, for a good life. And for somebody who has a lot to offer in return. So I chalk that "date" up as experience, but still marvel at the gall that it takes to expect so much, and give so little in return.