Scary, scary stuff

Ack. I had a great conversation with a potential blind date. He was warm, witty, funny, charming. I said I'd be happy to come to Tribeca for a glass of wine sometime. He said, Tonight? I said, Sure. But meet me in Dumbo, I'm writing about an event there; jazz, film noir. He said, Can't. Then a deluge of completely inappropriate emails. Calling me dear and honey and then this morning, he wrote: Hope you missed me desperately. Ack.

What's with that? He doesn't even know me. He might hate me if he met me. It's like he was pretending we were already in a relationship. I sent my brother the emails. I can count on him and my friend Marc to give me a balanced opinion from the male point of view. They err on the side of their gender, which I need sometime. My brother wrote: very creepy--- which confirmed my unease. So I blocked anymore emails from him. But I did write him a nice farewell email. Move on, girlfriend.

I promised myself that I would really try. But it's a friggin jungle out there. Why would this nice, successful man pretend that we were in love? That we had a "thing" going on? I'm not his honey or his sweetheart, I'm a stranger! Also his email responses to me were framed as poetry, as in:

I get you
sensual lady
you're my
cup
of
tea.
Let's meet next
week
for drinks.

Yeow. Scary, scary stuff.