An Unspoken Understanding

When we first met, Wayne was reading his book at the bar.  He made some mention about an excerpt from it.  Then, I joked that I would remember his name by associating it to Batman’s alter-ego. He didn't even smile.  Really, he was obsessed with his new found sense of “spirituality,” and highlighted passages about his adopted views.

Wayne was a chemist. He was also a patent lawyer who once made $750/hr at a firm in Boston. In Portland he only made $350/hr, but he appreciated the slower pace of the place.   He said Boston was the thinking man’s world, a city so compact in its ratio of brilliance to people you always felt the stress of having to be smart.  In the first few minutes, I learned his father had recently died; he was traumatized by his divorce; he loved his daughter, who lived in Boston and who he dearly missed, even though he saw her every couple of weeks; he recently down-sized from a 6000 square foot home in Lincoln, Massachusetts, to a one-bedroom in Portland, Maine; and he once lived by the motto that the one with the most wins.

I never liked him. He fidgeted too much and was sloppy in his looks and appearance: unshaven, and unkempt with old sneakers and a shirt hanging in and out of his pants (it might have been the style of a true blue New Englander or a madcap scientist, of which he was both).  He was also too cerebral in his conversation, always testing to see if I knew this or that quote or information about Longfellow, Thoreau, etc.  When he said he used his chemistry skills to make a great lobster roll-something about the ratio of mayonnaise to the meat- I decided to find him interesting. I even thought I would see and sleep with him. Furthermore, I decided I wouldn’t mind listening to his constant mumbo jumbo about God, Buddha, the mystery, and the scientific formulas that supported such things. I figured our unspoken understanding was he would treat me to dinners and drove me to the Maine beaches he mentioned.  I, in turn, would listen and sleep with him.

Fast forward to our second date.  He insisted I meet him at his favorite pizza place in town.  Again, he talked about his book on spirituality and science; this time he made me read a couple of highlighted passages. Then, he recommended I order the sour cream soup (at least that is what it tasted like) and split a Greek and Sausage pizza. We had a couple of beers and when the check arrived, he started to fidget as if he expected me to do something about it. It was then I offered to pay. He said I should leave a $20 tip. And, I did, but I knew I would never see again.  Afterwards, he invited me to walk to his apartment (the nerve of him I thought. I was going to say to him: you want me in your bed you pay... ALWAYS!!! But, really, I don't think his Harvard-trained brain had a formula to figure that one out). I told him I had to meet a friend who wanted to talk about a recent breakup.

He texted me several times after that, but I never responded.