Carolyn is a 29-year-old human-resources manager. She says, “My personal style is comfortable, just jeans and T-shirts for the most part. I love ‘90s style. I love purses and change those up a lot, but I have to be really comfortable in my clothes.” She says, “I’m sometimes quiet and intense, and can be a bit of a bookworm. I like beach days, music festivals and exploring my town. About dating, Carolyn says, “Sadly, I like the chase. I think Taylor Swift and I could totally be friends.”
Matthew and I met online. Where else! He seemed mature and seemed to have a strong personality. We hit it off and had been dating for a couple of weeks when he finally asked me to his place. He said he’d make me dinner. I already liked him a lot. Making our schedules work together was like playing Tetris and it was hard to see each other, but it was worth it. Matthew took control of a lot of the planning and was kind of a “take charge” guy. He was really sweet, but had an air of mystery about him. He didn’t want to spend every single minute together which is nice for me because I love me-time. When he suggested making dinner at his place, I was surprised because many of our dates had been near his condo, but he had never invited me upstairs. I was even more excited than I was surprised.
Around 8 p.m. on the night of the date, I hit the button in the elevator to go up to Matthew’s floor and checked my hair in the mirror. With a bottle of wine in my hand, and images of a perfect night together in my head, I knocked on his door. I stepped inside to a candlelit room. It was amazing, so beautiful and sexy. I was excited that Matthew had also been thinking about having a picture-perfect romantic evening. Most of our conversations until then had been about work, our friends, the usual date stuff, but we hadn’t made anything official, so I definitely thought this would be the night. Matthew opened the door, hugged me and spoke entirely in whispers. I was into it. I kissed him in the hallway and then we moved to the couch. After kissing for a while, he went to the kitchen to work on dinner. I turned on the music station on the TV because it was too quiet and I wanted more of a “mood.”
Suddenly, Matthew popped his head around the corner from the kitchen and said, “Babe, we should leave that off, so it’s easier to talk.” I didn’t really agree, but turned it off anyway. Matthew said that he was just finishing dinner and we could watch a movie while we ate. While I waited, I got settled in under a blanket. I thought I heard him coming back, but no one was there . . . or so I thought. Suddenly, under the blanket, I saw something scurry and then move across the edge of the couch. It was dark and I was freaked out. Then I realized it was probably a dog or a cat. Matthew hadn’t mentioned having pets, though. I went to look at what it was — and saw a toddler, on all fours, crawling on the floor. The little boy looked up and said hi. Shocked, I said, “Nice to meet you!” Just as I pulled the blankets off the floor and away from the little boy, Matthew appeared carrying two dinner plates. I said something about how he seemed to be one plate short. He looked at us both and said, “I guess now would be a good time to tell you I have a son.”
He put his son back to bed and then explained that he had invited me over because his babysitter wasn’t available. It turned out that, not only was Matthew a dad, but that he had been married before and hadn’t told me. I started to put it all together, like how he disappeared around seven every night to call and say goodnight to his son, and why he was unavailable so much.
I hung out for a bit, and ate most of the dinner Matthew had made so it wouldn’t be awkward, but I left soon after. I called him the next day and said that I was fine with him being a dad and that it seemed like he was a good one — Matthew had told me all about his life after the big reveal the night before — but I wasn’t fine with being lied to, or whatever sort of “lying” it is not to reveal that you have a child after weeks of dating. We never talked again.
Culled from https://www.thestar.com/