Recently men I’ve gone out with seem genuinely interested in what I do. So much so that one guy showed up wearing a necklace akin to puka shells on our first date. He proudly pointed to show me that he owned and wore this choker length strand just for me. Although, I admired his attempts at pleasing me, I couldn’t get passed the fact that he was forty-eight and didn’t know that this was distracting me from listening to what could have been stimulating conversation, had I been able to pay attention. Instead, I kept wishing he was David Cassidy and I was back in the ’70s at an age when I didn’t have to worry much about whether there would be chemistry , if he was financially stable, sane, single and straight. But, would have been happy if he just knew how to French Kiss.
Another guy, who a mutual friend thought was “perfect for me” was handsome, tall with green eyes, dressed in a pair of Levis and cashmere sweater, He was charming, witty and wearing a classic vintage Cartier watch. I was high five-ing[ my friend in my head and hoping for a second date until he asked me what I thought of his watch. When I told him, it was perfect, he puffed out his chest and said “my mother bought it for me.” I assumed this MUST mean it was for his graduation from college or grad school, like twenty some-odd years ago. Nope. She had just picked it out for him this past year along with three new sport jackets. He explained, “I am completely inept at dressing myself. My mother has always picked out my clothes.” I no longer wondered why he was divorced but I did wonder if I should part from the friend who introduced us. And then I thought maybe I should date his mother.
My ex-boyfriend/now friend Paolo calls and I start to tell him about this and (after he gets over the shock that I am dating again–after two years of not seeing him) he reminds me, “You didn’t have a problem with my cuff link collection.” “Really?” I ask teasingly. I remember when he showed me his treasure chest of links and I made exception because he was Italian, spoke with a sexy accent, wore custom-made suits and shirts with French cuffs and had more style that any guy I’d ever met “Don’t you remember I said I thought that it might be difficult to date a guy who owns more jewelry than me?” He laughs like he did the first time I said it and we reminisce about how I taught him about the famous Castellani permanent collection of jewelry housed at a museum in Rome, as much a part of his culture as Frescos and the Vatican. I also taught him about different gemstones. He took all in and was eventually able to identify ruby from spinel.
Which brings me back to the present to another American guy I had gone out with several times. Everything was going smoothly until he started rattling off his knowledge of Mother-of-Pearl, high karat gold and the Four C’s. Although I should have been flattered that he was trying to impress me with his knowledge, I felt it was similar to the dating faux pas of telling me a detailed account of all of his past sexual experiences with the women he obviously bought this jewelry for.
“You’re way too hard on me. I thought you’d like that I knew about what you did for a career.” Not so much. I would have preferred if I’d been the one to teach him about opals and baroque pearls.
I know that I am hard to please when it comes to guys. So, when it comes to jewelry I would like them to take subtle hints about it from me– and perhaps not let on about what they purchased for someone else. I would also like them not to wear anything but a watch (hopefully given to them by their mother as an heirloom or when they were too young to buy it for themselves), cuff links, and a wedding band to let me know if they are married (as I strongly stated two blogs back).
Tonight before writing this post, I met a guy who heard that I have a book being published, which is coming out this summer. We talked favorite authors, rare editions and our favorite novels of all time. I was incredibly happy that he was not trying to seduce me with his knowledge of jewelry and that the wedding band he wasn’t wearing really meant that he wasn’t married, rather that it was just “too tight or uncomfortable, so he left it off. ” He took my number and asked if he should wait the appropriate three days to call and I shook my head no.
“Yeah. Stupid rule,” he had a mischievous smile. “How bout tomorrow I give you a ring? –Maybe it’s not one for my finger but it’s definitely one I’ll be hoping for.