Blackberry Season

by Simone Westfall — April 24, 2007

But there is still Daniel, the lawyer, knocking at the gates. We made one plan to meet for drinks, but I canceled because I just don't have good instincts about this man. Maybe it was the crack about "mature" women, maybe it was all the emails from his Blackberry while he was on vacation with the wife and kids (but why should I find this anymore objectionable than corresponding with a man while his wife and daughter are in town? I don't know--consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds). He's persistent, though, so I finally acquiesce to lunch in midtown because I have to make a run to the library anyway.

So I meet him at a Chinese restaurant on 40th Street. If men are dogs, this one is definitely a terrier, perhaps an Airedale: bright brown eyes, tightly curled wiry hair, and he all but jumps up from the table when he sees me. He is in the midst of answering a message on his Blackberry when I arrive, and wants to know if I mind if he finishes. Not at all. I'm curious about these gizmos anyway and all that they can do....I don't really lust after one, because I just don't want to be that connected all the time. When he finishes, he shows me all the nifty features and says, "You gotta get one of these. It will change your whole life."

"Well, I'm a bit of a technophobe...."

"No, really. They're incredible."

He's pushing so hard I'm wondering if he has stock in Nokia.

Within minutes it becomes clear that this man and I do not click on any level whatsoever, and like so many dates I've had, he has zero curiosity about where I come from, what I do, what I've written, who I am. I've always chalked this up to terminal self-absorption, but I think there might also be an element of profound insecurity. He natters on about his kids, his workout routines, his wife's charitable causes. Even if we can't connect on a verbal level, we'd never, ever find communion over food: he orders a bamboo basket full of bland steamed vegetables with a side of Hoisin sauce; I eagerly tuck into a greasy, spicy duck salad. And after eating only half his veggies, after less than an hour together, he announces, "Well, I'm going to have to leave. Important meeting. But please finish your lunch and I'll take care of the bill."

And so I sit there alone for about 10 minutes, picking at his broccoli, more amused than annoyed.

Later I get an email from him: "It was very nice to meet you finally, and I'm sorry that I had to rush out. You're certainly an attractive and interesting woman, but my guess is that you probably are looking for someone who can give you more than I have to give in terms of even a 'lover' relationship. What I'm looking for is a woman who can be available early in the mornings and for an occasional stolen moment after work. If you at any point feel like all you'd like is a warm friendly body next to you on some chilly morning, I would love to see your name light up my Blackberry screen."

Huh? Where, I wonder, is he going to find a female willing to greet him at, say, seven a.m. for a toss and coffee before he speeds off to the office? There seems no other response but "good luck."

Simone Westfall is the pen name of a novelist and critic in New York City. To read all of Simone's posts in "The Dating Life," click here.