Anyway, when I was a Teen Angel*, I was going out with this guy, and he definitely had opinions to spare. Now, having opinions makes for a fuller, more rounded person and certainly makes for one who is more interesting. Really, it's good to have something to bring to the table when you are going out with someone to fill those quiet moments. However, he could be a bit of a control freak. I wonder now whether he was pre-OCD?
For some reason not allergy-related, he took exception to my wearing a scent. No, this was not some Britney-inspired product or the mature fragrance of Poême, this was a gardenia scent. His reasoning: perfumes were artificial and insincere. Would the essence of Angel, fresh from track practice, convey more authenticity and sincerity?
Once he expressed horror (!) when I admitted that I planned to attend church the next morning, like I do, and he comes across with this long monologue about how nobody with any sense or claim to science believes in that stuff anymore. And, moreover, I should stop going. I indicated otherwise, and that, yes, I truly believed that stuff! This led to a uncomfortable evening, and no good-night osculation!
On another occasion, he pushed me into going to a Kerry for President rally, even though I indicated that I wanted no truck with politics. Anyway, there I was, with the true believers and the socially conscious intellectuals even though I indicated that I thought that a more appropriate dating activity was shooting rats at the city dump! (Disclaimer: I believe in living and letting live when it comes to rodents).
One time we had a date for the beach on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. He threw a fit because of my two-piece swimsuit being too revealing. While it was not in any way too brief to be worn in public (Mama helped me select), he made me feel like I was dressed as a stripper. In fact, it could be wearable for swimming at a church youth event.
He insisted that we talk on the phone every night. At first, I thought it was because he loved me, but got the feeling after a while that he was checking up on me. He could not believe that I went to bed so early, and recommend that I gradually grow out of it with time.
He would often ask me what I was wearing during the nightly call, and I found myself waiting to dress for bed after his call. Describing my nightgown or pyjamas to him seemed a little ishy.
Once he took me to a meeting of his Star Trek club. They met in a bookstore on Sunday afternoon, and I guess I was arm candy for a Trekkie! He tasked me with putting out the placards claiming the tables for that lovely bunch of coconuts.
What do you wear to a Star Trek club meeting? Whatever you want, because you're not likely to have it in your closet. In all seriousness, the Trekkies fell into two groups: the authentics and the ones who horsed around. Yes, imagine Trekkies with a sense of irony . . . . what would Sheldon Cooper think?
Anyway, I'm ashamed to report that I went along with some of his ideas; so much for the scent, politics, and the swimsuit; not to mention the nightly calls. Finally, I found the whole dating thing to be tiresome because of his overcontrolling nature, and we broke it off.
Please don't take this as a Taylor Swiftian trashing of a relationship gone past; I recognize that both of us were in the learning stages, and we did have fun together. Even the Star Trek thing.
Live long and prosper!
*Also a semi-maudlin song