The Deserter: Left at the Turnstile

Okay, so The Deserter had me from the first few lines of the first e-mail. Read it for yourself.

So, you were brave enough to post a Craig's list personal ad ....

... and let me guess: you got about 37 responses from guys looking to cheat on their wives, 22 who were "single, lonely, and desperate" ... and about 2 guys who said "Hi, I'm fresh out of my 3rd jail sentence for not paying child support because I needed the money to fund my Cocaine addiction. But now that I'm out of jail and rehab, i'd love to take you out for taco's sometime.... i can't really afford more since I havent been employed in 6 years. Care to join ?? You'll have to pay this time .." .... or something to that effect :)

Don't worry, im in category "D" - "None of the Above"

What I am:

- 25 years old.
- Straight
- Intelligent, funny, sarcastic in that dry-yet-charming way (you couldn't tell ?? :) )
- ... and yes, don't worry - I've been told i'm pretty easy to look at for an extended period of time

Ooh! He’s witty. And his e-mail went on to display relative intelligence, a good attitude, and seemingly functional social skills. The list goes on. We exchanged about 30 e-mails over the next couple weeks, generating and responding to random questions, telling one another anecdotes and sharing random tidbits unsolicited. During that time, he pretty much proved the self-description above was accurate. I was very excited about meeting this guy. If I hadn’t been in the midst of the dread apartment search, I would’ve done so sooner.

We finally met each other outside the Metro entrance and proceeded to Zaytinya. As I was going up the escalator and checking a voicemail I thought was from him, I spotted him chatting away on his mobile. My first impression of The Deserter proved that he was, in fact, easy on the eyes. He was a little shorter than I’d prefer, but we can’t always get the full tall dark and handsome package, can we? Anyhow, we made our way to the last two seats at the bar and each ordered a glass of wine.

From that point out, it was like I was talking to a friend. Not in the it’s so comfortable upon first meeting that something’s just destined to blossom from it. It was more that I could already feel myself placed into the friends and nothing more category. It’s an unusual feeling for a girl to get lumped there. I hear guys complaining about it all the time (usually the nice guys), but it’s not something you’re really accustomed to as a girl. I mean, most guys think like Harry Burns. Straight men always want to have sex with the women in their lives, right?

Not The Deserter. It didn’t take me long at all to tell he wasn’t remotely interested in me. We still had a decent conversation, interrupted only a few times as he compulsively checked his Blackberry. Somehow he slipped the bartender the money for our wine, and the next thing I knew we were heading out the door.

When we got to the Metro, something was wrong with my SmartTrip, and I couldn’t get through the turnstile. The station master lady was over helping a group of helpless tourists, and The Deserter was already on his mobile on the other side of the gates. I motioned that I had to wait. He looked at me, gave a little wave and vanished. Geez. I knew he wasn’t interested, but did he seriously leave me at the turnstile without so much as a proper good evening? Oh, yes, he very much did.

Ouch.