About four months into dating, he told me I was different from the women he usually went out with. I’m 41, he’s 55, and by then I felt comfortable enough to ask exactly what he meant. He said he usually dated ‘fancy women.’
Naturally, I asked what made a woman fancy. He had a few examples. She’d want designer purses. She’d drive a nice car, put a lot of time into her appearance, and have a big career. I don’t remember what I expected him to say, but I do remember mentally getting to the car and thinking, Well, mine would have a hard time making the cut.
I put 40,000 to 50,000 miles on my car every year commuting. At that rate, I’m mainly interested in whether it starts. I have a good career, too, though I never went to college. Most days my hair and makeup are done. I like to dress well and smell good. I’ve never gotten Botox or fillers. I can also be a complete goof, and I’m happy spending my free time outdoors. Up until that conversation, all of those details fit together just fine in my head.
We’ve been together eight months now. I never told him the conversation bothered me. Most of the time I’m just going about my day. Then I’ll remember how readily he could describe the women he usually dates, and I’ll hear this little voice asking whether he thinks I measure up.
It’s odd that I was willing to ask him to explain “fancy” right then and there. I asked twice, really. The question I’ve carried around for four months is the one I never put to him. Does he like that I’m different from the women he usually dates, or am I the woman he’s happy to be with until someone more his type comes along?
