The Lonely Life of the Gigolo

Story Sent in by Rosie:

Paul and I met online, spoke for a bit, and agreed to meet up in person. We picked out a nice restaurant and set the meeting time for seven in the evening.

That day, at 6:45, when I was already on my way there, he called to ask me if we could push it back. He said, "I have a thing at work that's keeping me way late. I promise I'll be there by 7:30."

I was a bit annoyed, but it didn't seem as though it was his fault, so I told him that I'd meet him at the place at 7:30. We hung up and I continued on my way, thinking that I could simply wait for him at the bar.

I parked and arrived at the restaurant, then made it to the bar and ordered a drink. It was moderately busy, and I glanced around the room: there were some frat guys, a few older couples, some people reading alone, a guy who looked an awful lot like Paul, kissing another woman, a group of four girls speaking in whispers… wait.

I walked up to the booth of Paul and his friend. They were seated on the same side, with Paul in the inner end. He saw me, gasped, and shoved his way over her and stood up in front of me.

He said to me, "I'm not sleeping with her!"

"Okay, Paul. Have a good night."

"Really, we're not having sex! Okay? I want you to be a hundred percent on that."

"Okay, Paul. Bye."

"Tell me that you understand that she and I are not having sex! I just need to make sure."

I laughed. "I don't need to tell you anything. Bye, now."

I turned and left the restaurant. He followed me out to the sidewalk and a little way down the street, repeating, "We're not having sex, okay? We're not having sex."

I didn't respond, despite the turned heads and aghast faces that heard as we passed. By the time I had made it back to my car, he sounded less desperate and more angry: "Why don't you get it? There is no sex! She and I are just friends without sex! Okay? Okay?"

He remained standing close by and saying variances of that statement even as I turned the car on and drove away.

He later wrote me a rambling email that basically put his denials into conveniently stated, 20-sentence paragraphs.

Last I heard, he and his I'm-not-having-sex-with-her friend are now married. Poor girl must love entertainment, after the show he put on in front of her.