I met him in a bar during a Friday night happy hour.
My friend and I had gone there after work to unwind after a long work week, and it was not a place we regularly frequented. It was sheer chance that we happened to be there that night.
The first thing I noticed about him was his shirt. A very bright, white high-quality number that looked at first like silk. The second thing I noticed was the accent, as I overheard him talking to his friend.
I was intrigued. So much so, that I did something I was long out of the habit of doing -- flirting. I had been commiserating with friends for some time that I had seemed to lost the art. I had been very good at it in college and my early 20s, but somewhere along the line of time, it had gone away, and I don't really know how or why.
I said hello and proceeded to make cute comments about things going on around us, in between ordering drinks and talking with my friend.
To my surprise, he responded, and I became more interested. I liked everything I saw -- the clothes, his mannerisms, the accent, his cologne. To my surprise, as he was getting ready to leave, he wrote his number on a piece of paper and gave it to me -- but made it seem like a networking move, telling me if I ever needed his professional services, to give him a call.
I reciprocated by handing him my card and saying that he should call me if he ever required any marketing work.
But then, right before he left, he shook my hand, said it was nice meeting me and leaned in close, looked right into my eyes, and said, "really, call me."
I said I would, but wasn't sure if I meant it or not.
After he left, we discussed what had happened. At work, the following Monday, I discussed what had happened with co-workers, who all agreed I should call him.
I opted to wait. He had my card. He could just as easily call me. I finally decided to give him until Wednesday to call and if he didn't, then I would call him.
He called me Wednesday morning at work. We made dinner plans for the next night.
I was smitten.
What entailed was a four-week fling. The physical chemistry and attraction was amazing! And part of that was due to one factor: he was a MAN; as opposed to a guy.
What's the difference? some asked.
It's a subtle, yet very defining difference. And most women know what I'm talking about.
Man -- George Clooney, Daniel Day-Lewis, Richard Gere.
Guy -- Matt Damon, Michael J. Fox, Ryan Seacrest.
It's an attitude, the way one carries himself, their persona.
The fling is over. In addition to being a man he was also a player. And in the end, I needed more than just the physical attraction and chemistry. I needed shared interests, titillating conversation and the knowledge that "he got me" -- all of which was lacking.
I don't regret it though. Although, the experience has made me wonder -- am I better suited to a man? or to a guy?
And, in looking into a reverse mirror, am I a girl or a woman?
