Admit it.
Trying to figure out a man’s interest level is a calculating case for the FBI. What makes them fall in love or never call back is just as intriguing as the Secret Service investigating debauchery involving strippers and prostitutes hired by a group of its agents and U.S. military
specialists.
Arguably, the signs that he’s just not that into you can vary like the kinds of Kraft salad dressings lining supermarket shelves. So how do you know if he loves you or loves you
not?
Whether you’re on a 1st, 2nd or 50th(love that number) date, I say it’s a
hard cold case for the Bureau boys.
Take Mark. Widower #2 from the other night (read ‘Till Death Do Us Part). We spoke a few times on the phone and he even asked what I would like to do on a next date. So I whipped up a few melancholy ideas like a musical performance at one of the performing arts centres in the city. Mark liked the idea so much that he went ahead and bought the tickets.
“Save July 14 for you and me, Ineda,” Mark begged with excitement, “because we’re going to see Beauty & The Beast. “Great Mark,” I responded. “I love musicals and it sure beats always going out for dinner.”
Three days later and much to my surprise, I discover this in my in box from the Merry Widower: “Sorry Ineda, but I have to cancel our date to Beauty and the Beast.” Figures, I
thought. And he continues, “ I'm going on vacation and have been invited to go to Florida with my brother-in-law. I can't pass up the opportunity.” Man –isn’t that an original or what?
Mark adds, “I know it's late but I thought I better e-mail you so you are not waiting for me at the last minute and I wanted to let you know right away,” he continued. Mark – let’s get something straight – I wait for no one, I thought under my breathe. “Thanks for caring” he said, “and for our wonderful date last Saturday. Hope we can do it again!”
Yeah, right Mark. I’ve heard that line so many times it’s part of my designer wardrobe!
So I questioned Mark and suggested that I’d take those tickets off his hands, since they were already bought and paid for. Like the FBI, I wanted to figure out if he simply lost interest or was actually speaking the truth about our subsequent date and those tickets. I was aware that his vacation was starting soon. He told me so on our 1st date, while my hair was swirling around like a cyclone in that Corvette convertible.
Responded Mark, “Sorry Ineda, but I gave the tickets to my son and daughter-in-law.” There we have it, I thought! But here’s the rest of his honest answer from a truthful man…..
“I am sorry for your thoughts,” Mark explains, “but it was never my intention to B.S. about my vacation plans or anything else. I am new to this dating, as I have said previously, and would not hurt anyone. We have been out together and have had fun. I thought you wanted to date me and other people and if we had a connection, then we could get a little more
serious.”Love it, I said to myself. I’m liking Mark more than ever now because like him, I never leave all my eggs in one basket.
“Are we not still checking one another out”,” he queried, admitting,” I like you and I like your spirit when it comes to "life and living it". Let's go slow and see what happens. I'll e-mail you when I get back.
“Thank you for your explanation, Mark,” I responded. It’s wise to diversify. I never leave all my chickens in one coop. Have a safe and happy vacation and we’ll chat soon.”
Whether Mark was telling the truth I suppose I’ll find out in a few weeks. However, I was skeptical from the start because Mark is still in his first year bereaving the loss of his wife. In my books – it’s too soon to be commitment dating.
Now – on the flip side – we have money mogul Michael (read Poker Face May 2012). Remember? He is the upper crust, socialite, private club golfer with a penchant for Grey Goose martinis - shaken not stirred- and those Louis XIII Cognac-infused cigars.
Well - I dumped him a couple of weeks ago. I’ll explain.
Regardless of the million$ stored in those BMO vaults, his character was as shady as an old Oak tree. All those promises of taking me to the private country club to hit a few balls and have dinner by the 18th hole were thwarted by his lack of genuine character. I also never ever did receive those JLo tickets he also pretty promised. Talk about B.S.
I never met any of his friends in the 10 weeks that we dated. I
was always off his invite list and for a damn, good reason – he either didn’t
want his friends to know me or maybe he was trying to upgrade. Let’s ask those
Bureau boys, shall we?
I called Michael my “Broadway Date” – the same show night after night. So when he called on a Tuesday to ask what I would like to do this weekend, I mentioned - point-blank – that I had no desire to drive in his fire-breathing Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Gullwing for dinner, and then back to his penthouse suite for a Cosmopolitan – Grey Goose naturally.
“Well, Ineda,” what would you like to do?” he asked sharply. “Michael,” I replied, “there’s so much to do and see around the city. Let me go on a few entertainment web sites so that I can
discover a few things and I’ll call you.”
The way I see it is he never had a problem making plans in advance with his golf buddies at the money-dripping, private clubs he frequented, so I decided in advance that I didn’t want to play a minor role anymore in his 7-day future window. Remember –never make a man a priority if he only sees you as an option.
And I was always hanging out on his turf too. He hated driving into the city. Bottom Bureau line – he was too lazy to hang out on my turf which definitely revealed where I stood on his priority list. I was a matter of convenience for this multi-millionaire with no desire for commitment. I felt it – which is why, once again, this cowgirl never leaves all her steeds in one stall.
I sent him an e-mail earlier in the week with a small list of great entertainment ideas like going to a movie or heading to a street festival. But I never received a response. Friday rolled around so I dialed his number on the way to the office and left a message. I knew he was playing a few rounds. It was his morning routine.
When he returned my call later in the day, I made it crystal clear that this relationship wasn’t manoeuvring in the endearing direction I would have hoped.
Men can be so cowardly. Rather than admit they’re not interested, they’ll beat around the bush and simply not call. So if you’re trying to figure out why he hasn’t called – call the
FBI!
Here’s a beauty. A few months back, I had a dinner date with a Bay Street Jewish lawyer who specialized in bankruptcy law. A senior partner at his firm, he picked me up in a limo and we sailed off to La Maquette – a French restaurant renowned for its romantic atmosphere and sumptuous culinary delights.
We both nibbled on the pan-seared Foie Gras with wild cherry and raisin chutney accompanied with micro greens, as we discussed the latest corporate and financial shakedowns south of the border. I remember vividly how delicious my wild mushroom agnolotti tasted, as he bit into his Australian rack of lamb with red quinoa, broccoli and French beans.
The St. Helena cabernet kept flowing out of that wine decanter while he decided that he’d like to take me clubbing. So we went to that famous jazz lounge on Wellington I love so much. We grooved to the band, had a few martinis and then kissed good night.
“I’d love to see you again Ineda, “ admitted the legal eagle. And then I never heard back. Go figure!!!
My male friends said it’s because I didn’t “dish out”. I guess we’ll have to ask the FBI. Think they’ll be able to poke around?
Now back to money-mogul Michael. “And furthermore Michael,” I said, “who’s fooling who? You never once called me while you were in California last week.”I am a firm believer that if a man is interested in a woman, he calls.”
“Ineda,” he piped in, “You’re right. I am so sorry. It was terribly selfish of me not to call.”
“Michael,” I responded, “no need to explain. I’m also seeking a partner with a pulse – someone who wants to go out and do things other than eat and play golf with his buddies.
“Yeah, you’re right Ineda,” I guess I really don’t know what I want.”
“I’ll call you,” he said, trying to end the 10-week fling once and for all. How I’ve hated that line through the years. So I decided to get in the last word, “No Michael, I’ll call you!”
And chances are we both never will.
To life and living it,
Ineda
Trying to figure out a man’s interest level is a calculating case for the FBI. What makes them fall in love or never call back is just as intriguing as the Secret Service investigating debauchery involving strippers and prostitutes hired by a group of its agents and U.S. military
specialists.
Arguably, the signs that he’s just not that into you can vary like the kinds of Kraft salad dressings lining supermarket shelves. So how do you know if he loves you or loves you
not?
Whether you’re on a 1st, 2nd or 50th(love that number) date, I say it’s a
hard cold case for the Bureau boys.
Take Mark. Widower #2 from the other night (read ‘Till Death Do Us Part). We spoke a few times on the phone and he even asked what I would like to do on a next date. So I whipped up a few melancholy ideas like a musical performance at one of the performing arts centres in the city. Mark liked the idea so much that he went ahead and bought the tickets.
“Save July 14 for you and me, Ineda,” Mark begged with excitement, “because we’re going to see Beauty & The Beast. “Great Mark,” I responded. “I love musicals and it sure beats always going out for dinner.”
Three days later and much to my surprise, I discover this in my in box from the Merry Widower: “Sorry Ineda, but I have to cancel our date to Beauty and the Beast.” Figures, I
thought. And he continues, “ I'm going on vacation and have been invited to go to Florida with my brother-in-law. I can't pass up the opportunity.” Man –isn’t that an original or what?
Mark adds, “I know it's late but I thought I better e-mail you so you are not waiting for me at the last minute and I wanted to let you know right away,” he continued. Mark – let’s get something straight – I wait for no one, I thought under my breathe. “Thanks for caring” he said, “and for our wonderful date last Saturday. Hope we can do it again!”
Yeah, right Mark. I’ve heard that line so many times it’s part of my designer wardrobe!
So I questioned Mark and suggested that I’d take those tickets off his hands, since they were already bought and paid for. Like the FBI, I wanted to figure out if he simply lost interest or was actually speaking the truth about our subsequent date and those tickets. I was aware that his vacation was starting soon. He told me so on our 1st date, while my hair was swirling around like a cyclone in that Corvette convertible.
Responded Mark, “Sorry Ineda, but I gave the tickets to my son and daughter-in-law.” There we have it, I thought! But here’s the rest of his honest answer from a truthful man…..
“I am sorry for your thoughts,” Mark explains, “but it was never my intention to B.S. about my vacation plans or anything else. I am new to this dating, as I have said previously, and would not hurt anyone. We have been out together and have had fun. I thought you wanted to date me and other people and if we had a connection, then we could get a little more
serious.”Love it, I said to myself. I’m liking Mark more than ever now because like him, I never leave all my eggs in one basket.
“Are we not still checking one another out”,” he queried, admitting,” I like you and I like your spirit when it comes to "life and living it". Let's go slow and see what happens. I'll e-mail you when I get back.
“Thank you for your explanation, Mark,” I responded. It’s wise to diversify. I never leave all my chickens in one coop. Have a safe and happy vacation and we’ll chat soon.”
Whether Mark was telling the truth I suppose I’ll find out in a few weeks. However, I was skeptical from the start because Mark is still in his first year bereaving the loss of his wife. In my books – it’s too soon to be commitment dating.
Now – on the flip side – we have money mogul Michael (read Poker Face May 2012). Remember? He is the upper crust, socialite, private club golfer with a penchant for Grey Goose martinis - shaken not stirred- and those Louis XIII Cognac-infused cigars.
Well - I dumped him a couple of weeks ago. I’ll explain.
Regardless of the million$ stored in those BMO vaults, his character was as shady as an old Oak tree. All those promises of taking me to the private country club to hit a few balls and have dinner by the 18th hole were thwarted by his lack of genuine character. I also never ever did receive those JLo tickets he also pretty promised. Talk about B.S.
I never met any of his friends in the 10 weeks that we dated. I
was always off his invite list and for a damn, good reason – he either didn’t
want his friends to know me or maybe he was trying to upgrade. Let’s ask those
Bureau boys, shall we?
I called Michael my “Broadway Date” – the same show night after night. So when he called on a Tuesday to ask what I would like to do this weekend, I mentioned - point-blank – that I had no desire to drive in his fire-breathing Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG Gullwing for dinner, and then back to his penthouse suite for a Cosmopolitan – Grey Goose naturally.
“Well, Ineda,” what would you like to do?” he asked sharply. “Michael,” I replied, “there’s so much to do and see around the city. Let me go on a few entertainment web sites so that I can
discover a few things and I’ll call you.”
The way I see it is he never had a problem making plans in advance with his golf buddies at the money-dripping, private clubs he frequented, so I decided in advance that I didn’t want to play a minor role anymore in his 7-day future window. Remember –never make a man a priority if he only sees you as an option.
And I was always hanging out on his turf too. He hated driving into the city. Bottom Bureau line – he was too lazy to hang out on my turf which definitely revealed where I stood on his priority list. I was a matter of convenience for this multi-millionaire with no desire for commitment. I felt it – which is why, once again, this cowgirl never leaves all her steeds in one stall.
I sent him an e-mail earlier in the week with a small list of great entertainment ideas like going to a movie or heading to a street festival. But I never received a response. Friday rolled around so I dialed his number on the way to the office and left a message. I knew he was playing a few rounds. It was his morning routine.
When he returned my call later in the day, I made it crystal clear that this relationship wasn’t manoeuvring in the endearing direction I would have hoped.
Men can be so cowardly. Rather than admit they’re not interested, they’ll beat around the bush and simply not call. So if you’re trying to figure out why he hasn’t called – call the
FBI!
Here’s a beauty. A few months back, I had a dinner date with a Bay Street Jewish lawyer who specialized in bankruptcy law. A senior partner at his firm, he picked me up in a limo and we sailed off to La Maquette – a French restaurant renowned for its romantic atmosphere and sumptuous culinary delights.
We both nibbled on the pan-seared Foie Gras with wild cherry and raisin chutney accompanied with micro greens, as we discussed the latest corporate and financial shakedowns south of the border. I remember vividly how delicious my wild mushroom agnolotti tasted, as he bit into his Australian rack of lamb with red quinoa, broccoli and French beans.
The St. Helena cabernet kept flowing out of that wine decanter while he decided that he’d like to take me clubbing. So we went to that famous jazz lounge on Wellington I love so much. We grooved to the band, had a few martinis and then kissed good night.
“I’d love to see you again Ineda, “ admitted the legal eagle. And then I never heard back. Go figure!!!
My male friends said it’s because I didn’t “dish out”. I guess we’ll have to ask the FBI. Think they’ll be able to poke around?
Now back to money-mogul Michael. “And furthermore Michael,” I said, “who’s fooling who? You never once called me while you were in California last week.”I am a firm believer that if a man is interested in a woman, he calls.”
“Ineda,” he piped in, “You’re right. I am so sorry. It was terribly selfish of me not to call.”
“Michael,” I responded, “no need to explain. I’m also seeking a partner with a pulse – someone who wants to go out and do things other than eat and play golf with his buddies.
“Yeah, you’re right Ineda,” I guess I really don’t know what I want.”
“I’ll call you,” he said, trying to end the 10-week fling once and for all. How I’ve hated that line through the years. So I decided to get in the last word, “No Michael, I’ll call you!”
And chances are we both never will.
To life and living it,
Ineda
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