exactly the type I’d always gone for. This type seemed somewhat safer than the raw sexuality of creative men, which made me scared I could
lose myself completely. A terrifying thought that would make it easy for me to run in the opposite direction. The business man had written a paragraph about himself:
“ I would love to meet someone special; a woman to hold hands with and go for long walks by the sea. I like to consider myself a gentleman and believe in treating a woman as a lady. I
swim, play tennis and go hill walking. I love art, theatre and literature. I believe in taking care of my body, mind and soul in equal measure.”
I took another look at his picture and wondered was he too good to be true. At least he didn’t play golf. I read his email to me complimenting me on my hair and my dress sense. He asked
what subject I taught and was my username related to my interest in mythology. He signed himself “Ray”. I wrote back thanking him for his compliments.
The final email was from “the diver”, another businessman. He didn’t have a photograph but his message captured my interest and aroused my curiosity.
Hi Persephone,
Toot… toot! Hoot… hoot! What a foxy red head you are and you sound like a gal who knows what she wants out of life! Fair play, I’m all for a gal who knows her mind and
seduces me with her brain as well as … oh you know! Why call yourself Persephone, when you’ve got the body and tresses of Botticelli’s Venus lol? With your Taekwondo, scuba
diving and interest in Incan and Mayan civilizations, I can picture you as a female Indiana Jones. Better than tomb raider any day, I say! Definitely with that red hair, you’d put me in my
place … quaking in my boots while hot under the collar lol! No seriously … you demand respect, even from a messer like me! If you want to get in touch send me your phone number and we
can arrange to chat.
Steve
I wrote back to Steve asking him had he a photograph. I was more interested in “Elmtree” aka Ray, yet decided not to invest too much hope in him after my previous two experiences. If
everything worked out, I could meet him the coming Friday. Meanwhile I was in a mood for experimenting, so two days later I agreed to meet “the diver”, Steve. We had spoken on the phone
and he told me he was a representative for a company fitting aluminium windows. I asked for a photograph, and he sent one right back. He was rugged looking with heavy facial furniture, a rather
large nose, heavy jowls and a thin line for a mouth. Not exactly my type, but I was sure a lot of women would find him attractive. I found his humour hilarious, even if his hooting and tooting
sounded more like a siren call for Jessica Rabbit. No matter, I needed a good laugh. Emails went to and fro and I agreed to a lunch date rather than risk another evening fiasco.
I was beginning to see this as Ella had suggested, “an exercise in dusting off my disused dating skills.” Smirking to myself, I decided to call her and fill her in on my
progress.
“Same as you, lovey. I’m in need of a laugh and an ego boost so I’ve two dates arranged for today. First a lunch date and then meeting another guy for coffee at four.” We
agreed to keep in touch throughout the day and meet up later to discuss the dates. I felt like a woman on a mission, preparing to take note of all the details to report back to HQ afterwards. It
added to the excitement, that feeling of being an intrepid reporter working undercover.
In the Meyrick Hotel foyer, at a table to the right of the central table, which was adorned with a huge floral arrangement, Steve sat folding papers into a briefcase. I recognised him
immediately. Hmm, not bad looking, although a little older than his photograph (I was beginning to think that was par for the course) and somewhat untidy, with shirt buttons straining over his
mid-section.
He looked up. “Kate?” His eyes took me in. “Hey, you look