Gentleman's Guide to Dating in the #MeToo Era
By Jack King
Jimmy Duarte knew he was becoming a spinster. His wife, Sarah, died nine years earlier under a dead October sky when a meth-head teenager T-boned her car. The teenager was a Chinese citizen and fled the country, and the raw injustice of having his life smashed apart had left him angry and depressed.
It was time to move on, or at least try. He had always been an introvert and had few friends outside work. His recent promotion to Director of Gummies at Carlton Candy Company left him with more free time. He started going to the gym, changed his wardrobe, bought a new car, new apartment. New life, but with the sameness of the burning injustice steaming just below the surface.
The Gentleman’s Guide to Dating in the #MeToo Era was clickbait he found one afternoon, though the article did have a few good points. It made him think, at least. He had never been the kind of misogynistic douche-nozzle the #MeToo movement called out, but he’d been out of the dating scene for more than two decades and was terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing. Harry Boller in Accounting had just been fired for making advances against Tabitha, his secretary.
For Jimmy, it came down to a question he couldn’t answer: How much did he know about his own psychology? What if his flirting techniques were really harassment? So he read and reread the clickbait before making his dating profile, and he ran through thought-exercises in his head to ensure he would be the opposite of Harry Boller.
His first date came from an app. He met Ruth Montgomery at a middle-grade family restaurant in the city.
1. Be Honest
Ruth was already waiting. She had round glasses and a shrewd schoolteacher gaze that made him feel as if he was being judged the moment he walked in. He gave a wave, took off his coat (the black one Sarah gave him their last Christmas together), and sat down.
“Hello,” he said with a smile.
She nodded, wrote something down in a small notebook he hadn’t noticed when he approached the table. The dim lighting and dinner-crowd murmur was distracting.
“Punctuality is not your strong point,” she said.
“We said seven.”
“It’s two after,” she said. “Argumentative too.” She scribbled in her notebook.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I made a bad first impression. Can we start over? I’m Jimmy.” He smiled and held out his hand for a shake.
She took it limply. Her small hand was sweaty. “Polite. That’s rare.” She scribbled.
The waiter came by, recited the dinner specials, asked if they were ready.
He hadn’t had a chance to look over the menu, but Ruth had it opened in front of her. She was a thin and delicate woman with sharp features. She looked far older than her profile picture, not that he minded. He was halfway through his forties as it was; age and metabolism had begun taking a toll on his physique and he knew he bore only a vague resemblance to his own picture.
“I’m ready to order.” She did so, and Jimmy chose something quickly. His eyes fell on the rack of ribs, a favorite he hadn’t had in longer than he could remember.
“Fatty foods,” she said, and wrote in her notebook.
“What is that, if I may ask?”
She wrote again. “I’m tired of wasting my time on men, so I’m keeping a running tally of our date.”
“While we’re on it?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Ah,” he felt as if he was being interviewed. He supposed all dates were interviews. “No, that sounds smart.”
She scribbled in her notebook.
“So, James, what do you do for a living?”
“I manage a division of a candy company.”
“Sweet tooth?”
“Used to,” he said. “I’m at the age where I gain calories just looking at candy.”
“But it’s OK to rot the teeth of children?”
His smile drooped. “Well, no, but…”
“Hmm,” she said, and wrote in her notebook.
They chatted for several more minutes. It felt like an awkward volley of conversation. Ruth was the librarian at the local community college. She had been married twice, had four cats, and did not want children. Jimmy didn’t mind cats. She smiled and made a note.
Dinner came, and Jimmy realized that ribs were not a good choice for a date. There was no easy way to eat them without getting messy.
Ruth wanted to split dessert. Jimmy asked if she’d like an aperitif, which she did not.
After making another note, she stood and said, “Thank you for a… an evening. I’m afraid you have too many negative points for this to work, so I bid you adieu.”
She left before he could respond.
He supposed there was such a thing as being too honest.
2. Be Chivalrous
Anne Wolman in Accounting set him up on his next date. Her friend Marjorie had been recently divorced. Jimmy asked to pick her up—he didn’t want to be reprimanded for arriving two minutes late.
Marjorie still lived in the house she once shared with her previous husband. It was a nice two-story on the south side of town. The kind of tight neighborhood with a strict homeowner’s association. Marjorie had two preteen children, Cooper and Clarissa. Because she was still getting ready when he arrived, Cooper answered the door and sat on the steps while he waited.
“My dad’s boning his secretary,” Cooper said.
“Ah, I, ah…” Jimmy stumbled.
“It means we get more presents for birthdays and stuff.” After a pause, “Are you gonna bone my mom?”
“Excuse me?”
Marjorie descended the stairs while putting an earring in. “Cooper, upstairs now, get ready.” She was an attractive woman who was unable to shed the weight gain from giving birth, but it seemed to suit her well. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Their babysitter cancelled last minute. I’m sorry. Would you mind if my kids joined us?”
“Ah, sure,” he lied.
They climbed into Jimmy’s car, the kids in the back. Cooper had a portable game system that occupied his attention. Clarissa was focused on her phone.
On the way to dinner, Marjorie regaled him with a detailed history of her failed marriage to a dentist with a fondness for his young assistants until she finally had enough and kicked him out. She seemed like the kind of devoted mother Sarah would’ve been.
Throughout the evening he would open the door for her, stand when she stood up, help her into her chair. He was trying to impress her, but he was also trying to be chivalrous—or, at least, whatever the modern interpretation was. He took it to mean manners and respect.
Marjorie talked about her children. Cooper played field hockey. Clarissa was on the debate team, chess team, started the computer club since Greendale Middle School didn’t have one.
Neither child spoke to him. They ordered the most expensive items on the menu.
Three appetizers, four entrees and four desserts later, the kids were growing restless. Marjorie had been grilling Jimmy on his job, his friends, his dead wife, but didn’t notice when Cooper slipped away. Jimmy assumed the boy had to use the bathroom.
Awhile later, the manager appeared at their table with Cooper in tow. The boy was drenched. “Excuse me. Madam, your son has decided to swim in the lobster tank.”
Marjorie laughed at first, then took Cooper’s arm roughly and shouted at him. “What were you thinking! You’re going to be in so much trouble, mister!”
The manager ignored them and turned to Jimmy, “Twenty-four lobsters are dead. I can’t serve them. I’m adding them to your bill.”
“But, I…” The manager stormed off.
All eyes in the restaurant seemed to be on them.
“We’re leaving,” Marjorie said. “Someone needs to be punished.” She pulled her children by the hand. “We’ll be waiting outside.”
The bill came to eight hundred and four dollars.
He should be chivalrous, but not to the point he’s taken advantage of again.
3. Don’t Be Creepy
Denise Clemment was someone he’d met at the gym when they both grabbed the same towel. She was a tall and slender woman in her forties with very long, very dark hair. He gathered the courage to ask her out while she ran on the treadmill one afternoon, apologizing profusely for the interruption and insisting he would leave her alone if the answer was no.
She smiled, kept her pace on the treadmill, and said, “Sure.”
The guide had a lot to say about asking women in the gym out. People go to exercise, not to be bothered. Most of the women in his gym wore makeup and barely put enough effort into their workout to break a sweat. Except for Denise.
He met her at her apartment where he had to be buzzed up. She lived on the fourth floor and overlooked a cemetery at the back of the building. “Creepy, isn’t it?” she said. “Last Halloween, some guy hung himself on that tree. Everybody thought it was a Halloween decoration, so he wasn’t discovered for a few weeks.”
“Huh,” was all Jimmy could think to say.
She was not beautiful but had a handsome quality that he found alluring.
“I made dinner,” she said.
“Oh, I thought we were going out.”
“Why pay for some overpriced slop?” Jimmy was still reeling from the eight-hundred-dollar tab from Marjorie and her children, so he didn’t object.
Dinner was spaghetti with chicken.
“So, tell me about the biggest problem in your job right now,” she said.
Jimmy liked how up-front she was. “One of our latest candies is a Halloween design. Gummy bats with gummy feet so you can stand them up, and they have smiling fanged faces. The problem is, if you bit the wings off, they look like fanged dildos.”
She burst out laughing.
“I’m getting a lot of calls from angry parents. But the gay community thinks it’s great, so I want to make dildo gummies. My boss said no.”
“That’s awesome. My job is boring by comparison.”
She poured them more wine. “Accounting. I work from home.” She laughed. “I mean, I guess I should want to go out, but the accountant side of me thinks restaurants are a waste.”
They chatted through dinner and dessert (a cherry pie with vanilla ice cream). More wine, more talking. Jimmy told her about growing up in Oregon, and about Sarah. Denise had never been married. A string of bad relationships left her angry and wounded (her words) to the point that she swore off men. She hadn’t thought about dating until he asked.
Everything was going well until he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips touched and she leaned into him at first, then suddenly pushed him away. “No, stop.”
“I…I’m sorry.” He stood up. “That was…too forward.” His heart was thudding in his chest. She seemed tense, almost afraid. Was this sexual harassment? “I,” he couldn’t find the words. He smiled at her. “You’re pretty.”
She gave a tense laugh. “What are you, eight? Pretty is the best you can do?”
“I…” his heart thudded. “I think I should go.”
She nodded. “OK. Right. Sure. I see.”
“I just…”
“I get it.”
She gestured towards the door.
“I had a nice time,” he said.
“Yep.”
He had the vague notion he’d done something terribly wrong.
4. Finish the Date, Even if You Don’t Want To
It was a month before he felt like he could give it another try. The dating app found a match. Monique Ramirez’s profile picture was a glamour shot, and her profile sounded amazing. Junior VP at a market research company, she seemed like a well-assembled woman with a life plan. She picked the time and restaurant. He suggested a few others because the one she chose was one of the most expensive in the city, but she insisted.
He picked her up at seven and they reached the restaurant fifteen tense minutes later. Monique wasn’t a talker, and most of their initial discourse consisted of brief questions followed by one-word replies. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but he knew it wasn’t going well. She kept checking her phone.
They sat, ordered, sipped wine. As the hour approached eight, she perked up, started talking more. “Did you watch Game of Thrones?” He nodded. “I liked the books better. I mean, the books are always better. But the series wasn’t bad, you know?” She continued for several minutes, doing most of the talking without really saying anything. Jimmy felt out of place. She leaned across the table and took his hand, which shocked him. She leaned in closer, still talking about the noble houses of Westeros, and her smile widened. He thought she was truly a fan of the show until she looked up at the thin couple walking by.
“Trevor. How are you?”
“Oh, hey, ah, Monique! What are you doing here?” The guy was in his early thirties, and though he wore a suit jacket Jimmy could tell he was athletic.
“I’m on a date,” she said. “This is Johnny.” Jimmy didn’t correct her. “Is this her?”
“Well…” Trevor stood in front of the woman he was with. She was extremely beautiful.
“You’re the slut who steals men?”
“Monique!” Trevor pushed his date forward and fled deeper into the restaurant.
“He’ll cheat on you, too, you know!” She watched them until they were out of sight. When she turned back to Jimmy, she had fat tears at the corner of her eyes. “Shit.” She gulped wine.
She looked so wounded that something inside him began to hurt. He knew she’d used him and yet he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. “Do you want to go?”
She nodded, then shook her head. “You should.”
Jimmy wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. He wanted to leave but didn’t think she would be all right on her own. “I work with a guy we call Gatherer,” he said just to say anything. “He hates it. His real name is Hunter, but he’s a vegan. So, you know. Gatherer.”
She laughed.
He didn’t know what else to say. He found something random lingering at the edge of his mind. “Pepsi once had its own navy.”
She wiped her eyes. “Bullshit.”
“It’s true,” he continued. “Our country had been trading Pepsi for Vodka since the Nixon administration, and as the cold war ended the Russians really wanted more. Since the ruble was worthless, Russia traded Pepsi a fleet of World War II era ships in exchange for some bottling plants. Pepsi would sell the ships for scrap.”
She nibbled at her dinner while he regaled her with all the random facts he could recall. All mammals take the same time to urinate—around twenty-one seconds— according to a paper published by Cornell. Marie Curie’s notebooks are still radioactive and have to be stored in a lead-lined box. The world’s largest pyramid is in Mexico, not Egypt.
They finished dinner, paid, and he drove her home.
“I’m sorry for deceiving you.”
“It’s OK,” Jimmy said.
She kissed him on the cheek and bid him goodnight.
5. Don’t Move Too Fast
A lot of websites advised how hard dating was for people older than forty. Romance, it seemed, was reserved for the young, and anyone in their forties who was single had to be so wounded and damaged that they couldn’t survive a normal relationship. His dating history seemed to bear that truth.
He’d resigned himself to being alone.
He’d just gotten off the treadmill at his gym when he noticed Denise heading toward the locker room. She held on to a white towel draped over her shoulders. Her sports top was soaked through with sweat. His heart raced. He approached her slowly, stood a few feet away. “Hey,” he said, waving.
She noticed him, pulled headphones out. “Oh, um. Hi.”
“I think I came off wrong. I didn’t mean to be so forward.”
She stepped back. “I was just surprised is all.” She smelled of sweat, and he found it oddly attractive. “You seem like a nice guy, and…” She paused. “Shit.”
Jimmy looked around the gym because it seemed like they needed a private moment, but everyone near them had headphones and wasn’t paying attention. “I don’t know how this works,” he said, “but maybe we could try it again?” He couldn’t believe he was asking, but he truly liked her.
She smiled. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“Oh, OK,” he said, and for the first time in many years he felt the sinking yearning in his chest. “I understand.”
“No, it’s not…shit.” She gestured to an unoccupied space near the free weights. They walked over. She kept her distance. “I like you,” she said. “I…this isn’t easy for me. My therapist said I should have someone over, and you asked. I haven’t had any men in my place.”
He nodded. He couldn’t think of what to say, so he said nothing. Her cheeks were flush, her eyes darting about. He wanted very much to kiss her again, but knew it was probably the worst thing he could do right now.
“I was…attacked,” she said, staring at her feet. “I…this…” she took a deep breath and looked at him. She had beautiful brown eyes. “If this is going to work, we have to go slow. Glacially slow.”
He felt the adrenal rush of warmth and his mouth automatically widened into a smile. “I’d like that. We’ll go to a restaurant and buy overpriced slop?”
She laughed, leaned in, and when he didn’t retract, gave him a sweaty hug. “Dinner sounds nice. Just dinner.”
“Deal.”
THE END