Beware the Naked Man

Below is an instructional anecdote that forms part of Penelope’s multi-series publication on dating for grown ups.

Anyone who finds himself or herself still dating after age 40 is probably suffering from an excess of guidance, often unsolicited, on the rules of dating and, its kissing cousin, mating.

There are so many rules to bear in mind: don’t kiss him on the first date; don’t accept a Friday date unless he calls by Tuesday; don’t sleep with someone unless you’ve been seeing each other at least twice a week for three weeks . . .

Even if you could manage to keep all these directives straight in your mind, for each of those rules, you undoubtedly know someone who represents the exception to the rule. The friend who kissed him on the first date, canceled her Friday plans to meet him and suffered absolutely no adverse relationship consequences as a result. In fact she may even be living happily with him now (or at least successfully projecting the image of a happy existence, which for some is just as important).

Despite all of these guidelines and their myriad exceptions, I have remained completely confident about certain core truths. For example, a guy that invites himself to your place and then immediately, without invitation, disrobes is definitely bad news (a.k.a. a dog who wants one thing, and one thing only) . . . or is he?

Penelope found herself in an untoward situation a bit over a month ago. Having stayed very late at a party in Westchester, she was running up against her Cinderella-Takes-Metro-North deadline. The last train back to NYC was leaving in 40 minutes.

Faced with the prospect of asking a drunken friend to drive her to the train station and missing one of the most stunning displays of amateur DJ-ing mixed with middle-aged break-dancing she’d ever seen (or did he just fall and stumble?), Penelope accepted an alternative arrangement proposed by her “date” for that evening.*

Penelope would stay in the room my date had reserved, and he would stay at a hotel nearby. She was reassured by the offer so decided to relax, have multiple nightcaps and take in the music and company.

Not long thereafter, Penelope could be seen wearing an orange tablecloth as a burka and refusing any offers for additional cocktails because, as she pointed out, it was still Ramadan and she should not be drinking.*

What followed should be one big bold “Don’t” for any dating adult. Aware that her date probably should not be driving and persuaded by a female acquaintance that he was a very respectable guy and should not be banished to a cheap hotel, Penelope permitted inter-gender sharing of personal space after midnight. After all, she rationalized, there were two beds in an uncommonly large room.

No sooner had she entered the room with her date than he stripped off every piece of clothing, offering only “We’re both adults” as explanation for his behavior.

As you can imagine, after a furtive glance at some rather exceptional features (not all men are created equal), Penelope immediately averted her eyes and contemplated the true horror of her situation.

If she didn’t like him or want to share mixed-gender time with him again, then the blatant nudity was a heinous and offensive gesture. If she did anticipate seeing him again, then surely his nudist display was insulting proof that he would never share the same instinct and was simply a randy man on the prowl in Westchester (much like the coyote population that has been migrating from CT to Westchester in recent years). Tails Penelope lost and head he won.

Responding to her confused instincts, Penelope did what any self-respecting woman would do. She grabbed the closest object within reach and hurled it at him, successfully shattering a wine glass along the way. With a threatening barrier of glass shards between them, Penelope would be protected until she had gotten some shut eye and sobered up enough to address the situation with aplomb.

That was over a month ago. Dare I say that Penelope could be wrong? The rogue nudist has in fact behaved like a male lion protecting his mate, hunting down valued resources for her late at night (such as grilled cheese and pinot grigio). Maybe this is an extended project of deception that could be carried off only by a sly NYC fox. Maybe Penelope has slipped into another Pollyanna delusion about some mortal male with nothing but exceedingly terrestrial and banal instincts for her. In any event, you can be sure she will let you know, one way or the other.

Notes
* Note that dates may sometimes be identified only in retrospect and Penelope was unaware that evening that this mixed-gender sharing of time was in fact a date until so informed the next day by a third party observer.

* Silly Penelope. If she would take the time to educate herself about religion, she would know that Islam prohibits the consumption of alcohol at any time and not just during its holiest month of fasting, Ramadan