Femi seemed like an interesting man. He messaged me first, but he didn’t have a photo on his profile. The conversation was good, but the lack of a photo was a red flag to me; it seemed like he might have something to hide. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable continuing communication until I knew what he looked like — who would? — and knew more about him. He gave me his full name and I Googled him; there was a lot of information online about him and his job, so I felt better. We also talked on the phone a few times. He seemed normal after that, and I was excited to meet him.
We met up for a drink. He wasn’t physically the type of man that I was usually interested in, but his personality did it for me. He did have a beautiful smile. The drink date went really well, and before it was over he asked me to have dinner later that week. He even asked me what my favourite restaurant is, and booked a table for us as we were sitting there.
Since we had met already, and I felt comfortable with him, I let Femi pick me up for our second date. We had a really nice dinner, with great conversation — we talked easily about work and our families, and laughed a lot. Once again, he was fun and easygoing, and was obviously intelligent and educated. He also seemed genuine and caring, which are definitely qualities I look for in a partner.
As we left, I thought to myself that he was a nice, well-mannered guy, an actual “gentleman.” We walked to the car, he opened my door, I got in and we started to drive. I live only about 10 minutes from the restaurant, and he lives at least 25 minutes away. Instead of turning left at a light, which would have taken us to my place, he drove straight. I told him that he missed my turn, and he replied “I thought we’d go back to my place.”
Fear surged through my body. It all became clear: Here I am in a car, with a man that I barely know, late at night. He’s driving me to his place, and he didn’t even ask me ahead of time. I decided that if I had to, I would get out at the next light and cab it home. I firmly told him to turn around, that I don’t go back to a man’s house on a first date, and that I thought it was weird not to ask me if I wanted to go ahead of time. Even if a friend had just driven somewhere else, I’d be upset.
He seemed confused, like he didn’t know what I was even talking about. He told me that I’d misunderstood, that he wasn’t trying to make a move, and that he just wanted to show me his place. I found it insulting that he thought I was so naïve, but wondered if he actually didn’t get it. I had been clear that I would see him again, but not that I wanted to go home with him. He did seem freaked out and turned around right away, and he didn’t object when I got out of the car after a quick goodbye.
I was disappointed more than anything, but when I thought about it, I got angry. He’s a smart guy, and it seemed like he had no idea what I was upset about. The next day, he texted me and said he had a great time, and would love to see me again. I told him I wasn’t interested.