Empowerment

I come from an era of what I would call a “bridge” generation. An in-between, a time when the old is slowly being replaced by the new. I went from cassette tapes to compact discs to mp3s, mp4s, and whatnots. From playing from Walkman to Discman to Windows Media Player to Spotify. Saving data went from diskettes to CDs, to USBs, memory cards, and finally to external hard drives and Google Drive. It was a time when desktop computers and dial-up internet were only starting, eventually coming to a tech boom of laptops, iPads, smartphones, DSL internet, and Wi-Fi.

Yup, that’s me. An in-between, a “bridge” generation. Even in the world of dating. But I was rather slow to adapt in this area as opposed to how I parred with the technological advancements. I wouldn’t say I’m tech-savvy, but I met the advances with much more gusto than I had met the changes in the world of dating. I didn’t believe in dating in the first place. At a young age, I believed in courtship and marriage. And I would say that I was rigid in my belief that women didn’t make the first move. And that premarital sex was inappropriate.

So, you could just imagine the distress of a traditional woman living in the modern age. I warmed up to the idea of online dating only in my early thirties and had my first dose of rejection only when I was 35. Online dating didn’t work out for me; mainly because outdated standards didn’t mix with modern methods. I dated to marry, as opposed to “dating and seeing how it goes.” Hence, I particularly had high standards. I was fast to reject – or to put it more appropriately – to ghost anyone who was even a tiny bit off from my standards. I was about to give up on online dating – or dating in general – when I met Harvey.

He was 29 - eight years younger than me - a businessman, and looked about as hot as a Hollywood star. I swiped right, and we matched. The app was designed so that only women can make the first move. The male match cannot send a message unless the female match chatted him up first. I joined the app in an attempt to upgrade some outdated beliefs. But even after several years and what felt like hundreds of matches, I still wasn’t used to making the first move. I guess some habits die hard. I struggled to think of what to say to him.

Hi, Harvey! How are you?

It was lame. I know. Nonetheless, he replied.

Hi, Suzanne! I’m good. I just closed a deal and I thought I couldn’t be happier. But then, we matched, and I think I just got a bonus deal to make me happier. *Wink, wink.

Thus, came the road to the worst business deal of my life. He was a good businessman. And that includes dealing with women. He had the charms, the looks, the power. He always made sure that he got the best part of the deal. He had a way with words that got me love-struck on the first date.

I think we click and I’d like to get to know you better. Would you like to go to the movies with me on Thursday? I hope you don’t turn down my deal. *Wink, wink.

Of course, I didn’t. Thus, came the second date, and the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. He just kept striking a deal with each date. On our sixth date, we kissed. I liked that he kept it slow; but then, he was good at reading people. He knew how to play the game. He figured that a “bridge” generation like me was still trying to keep up with the fast-paced, modern world of dating, and he didn’t push to kiss nor have sex on our previous dates. He made attempts, but just like how a seasoned entrepreneur would make offers and gladly accept rejections and keep going, so did he.

Finally, on our sixth date, I let him drive me home. I usually insisted on driving my car or taking a cab; I liked keeping my boundaries, but I was slowly letting them down. He stopped in front of my apartment. He reached for my hand as I removed my seat-belt.

“Suzanne, I like you,” he said.

My heart went on overdrive as he reached forward. The tip of his nose first touched mine, then our lips met. Our first kiss was sweet and sexy. His hands went down to my waist, and I stopped him before we went further.

The thing about online dating is that you never know if you’re exclusive or not. At least for me, because that’s the first time I ever went that far with anyone I met on a dating app. Eventually, we stopped chatting on the app, but we never talked about deleting our profiles and getting off the app. But being the “bridge” generation that I was, I assumed we were exclusively dating.

We were already seeing each other for three months when he talked me into living together. “I really like you, Suzanne. But before we get any more serious, I’d like to see if we’re fit for marriage.”

I was 37 years old. I thought it was a good deal; I took it. We closed the deal when I moved into his apartment about a month after. Still, the “bridge” generation in me tried to resist. I still had qualms about premarital sex. We went from first base to second base, to third base, but we never hit a home run. He wanted it; I know. But if he was really thinking of marriage, he’d wait until I was ready.

Our cohabitation was uneventful. I thought we were a perfect fit, and I fantasised about him proposing to me soon. You could just imagine my surprise when one day at a restaurant, a woman came up to him.

She marched up to us as we were walking out of the restaurant. She was young, pretty, and sexy. In a blink of an eye, she slapped Harvey straight in the face and said angrily, “I’m never going out with you again!” Then, she stormed off.

I looked at him disbelievingly, “What was that about?” I demanded.

He wasn’t going to lose any deal, so he played his game well. He looked about as shocked as I was. He held out his hands and shrugged, as if totally clueless. “I don’t know, Baby. She must have mistaken me for her boyfriend or something.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

He put his arms around my waist and kissed me. “Just that you look stunning tonight, Baby, and I can’t wait to be your husband.”

I half-expected him to pop an engagement ring right then and there, but he did not. Nonetheless, his words already closed the deal. I let him off the hook and let him lead me back home. Not long after, I accidentally saw a notification pop out on his phone.

You’ve got a new match!

“Hey, what’s this?” I asked.

He laughed. “My friends played a prank on me last night, Baby. I left my phone on the table for a while and they swiped right on every girl in the app.”

I put my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes. “That doesn’t sound right,” I said doubtfully.

He kissed me. “You’re the best deal I ever had, Baby. How could you doubt me?”

Yeah. So, I pushed my feelings away again. There were other things, too – occasional lipstick stains on his clothes, the smell of women’s perfume, late-night messages, and “business meetings.” Mostly, I kept quiet about it because when I did ask, he always turned it around on me.  

“This is an important client, Baby. He’s very busy and I would gladly accept an invitation to a business meeting with him, even if it was 11:00 at night. If we’re gonna marry, you should get used to this. I thought you would understand how important this is to me.”

This went on for almost a month. Then, I went out-of-town for a week-long, national teachers’ convention – I’m a teacher, by the way. When I came back, the first thing I heard was a woman moaning in the bedroom. Gripped with a mixture of fear, anger, and hurt, I burst into the bedroom and saw as I expected – Harvey was having sex with another woman. My first instinct was to peel them off each other and claw at their naked bodies, but I was paralysed at the doorway.

“Baby!”

I guess they were as shocked as I was. Harvey didn’t expect me until the next day. The last day of the convention was a closing ceremony and festivity, and I decided to skip it. Without a word, I turned around and walked away while Harvey pulled up his pants and caught me at the front door.

“Baby, let me explain!”

“I thought you might want to finish entertaining our visitor,” I replied sarcastically. “Is this another one of your business meetings?”

What he said next was the deal-breaker. “This is my apartment and I’m allowed to invite anyone as I please. We’re not bound by a marriage contract, not even a deal of exclusivity.”

My eyes flared. Yes, he was right; he knew the ins and outs of the business perfectly. We never talked about being exclusive, but I guess it was one of the perks of the modern world and online dating. Open relationship unless agreed to be otherwise. I didn’t see that I was at the losing end of the deal right from the start.

The woman, now fully dressed, came out of the bedroom. I recognised her as the woman who marched at us and slapped him at the restaurant. I remembered what she had said to Harvey, and it was exactly what I was about to tell him.

A different kind of awareness and realisation suddenly hit me. He could only hurt me as much as I allow him to. My final words to Harvey were calm. There was no hate nor anger, just an overwhelming sense of dignity and self-respect that I’d never known before.

Hoisting my suitcase, I finally said to him: “I’m never going out with you again.”