We met in high school. He was from the rough side of town, and I wasn’t. He was shy and I was outgoing. He didn’t have a lot of friends and kept to himself. I never thought much about him since we didn’t run in the same circle, but 25 years later, we ran into each other, and he reintroduced himself.
To be honest, I didn’t even recognize him, but we ended up having a nice chat. I was newly single after a 16-year marriage, and he told me that he’d never married. He never found the right one, and he’d stay single until he found her.
We ran into each other here and there for seven years. We always had nice chats, and I felt there was a mutual attraction, although he never asked me out. I’m old-fashioned and didn’t want to make the first move, but I always kind of hoped he shared my feelings.
But he did always strike me as a little off.
I chalked it up to him being shy and introverted and told myself I was judging him for being different from me. His eyes were a little shifty, and the best way I can describe it is that he seemed like he was either hiding something or I just made him uncomfortable. After all, I’m vocal and open about a lot of things, and he was so reserved that I wondered if it was painful for him to be around someone like me.
But I enjoyed him and found him attractive. So, when he finally asked me out, I said yes. I’ve been wrong about people before and maybe I was wrong about him. At almost 50 years old, I was single and the type of men I’d gone for in the past, extroverted alpha-type men, hadn’t served me well, so why not try something different?