|Against her better judgment Svetlana met up with a man from Match, and he met her expectations of a cad.
A cad is a man who is aware of the codes of conduct, which separate a gentleman from a ruffian, but finds himself unable to live up to them. Cads are capable of disguising themselves as good chaps for some time, only revealing their true nature in circumstances of particular stress or temptation. Others embrace their caddishness whole-heartedly and delight in behaving in this manner.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Svetlana received multiple emails from him, all expressing his desire to meet her, to have her over for a glass of wine in his hot tub, and to cook her breakfast. These suggestions seemed forward, given they hadn’t yet met, but romantic too. Svetlana agreed to speak with him by phone and endured an hour of him telling her all about himself, how his first two wives and ex-fiancee were living well off of his income, all about his successful careers (several of them) and his romantic preferences. His voice was low and velvety.
While Svetlana’s Bullshit Casanova Radar was rising, she thought, “I have nothing to do Friday night, so why not meet this cad?”
He did not disappoint. Yes, he was handsome, like the Marlboro Man. She suspected he’d been ridden hard, but his blue eyes were nice to look at, and there was that devilish smile. He talked at length about himself. She began to wonder if there was anything more to discuss. He spilled everything over the phone the night before and still had so much more to talk about at the restaurant.
He complimented her on her eyes, her dress, and her intelligence but didn’t ask her many questions and didn’t listen to her answers when she gave them.
He said he wished he had a video camera for that evening. She deflected with a joke about, “Certainly not on our first date.”
This fed the fire as he interpreted it to mean it would be allowed at some other time.
He went into a detailed description about serving her breakfast in bed, his technique for cooking the sausage, special spices, etc.
“I really don’t like to eat in bed,” said Svetlana.
That gave him pause, but he went back into his breakfast fantasy before he moved onto the motorcycle ride fantasy and so many more events sure to delight her.
”I love to make love in the morning, before work,” he said. “It’s a problem if my woman doesn’t want that. And I love to make love in the evening, anytime of day really.”
“Excuse me!” said Svetlana. “This is our first date, not the time to talk about sexual frequency and preferences. Why don’t you ask me a question?”
That temporarily stopped him. Then he moved around the table, held her close and took a big whiff. Yes, a whiff.
He smelled her! He groaned with pleasure. He smelled her hair, her skin, and said he wasn’t interested in her perfume. He wanted to smell her scent.
While she dined on salmon, drank good wine and was subjected to his monologue, all she could think was he couldn’t be for real — he must be a reality TV character. She didn’t know this version of a man really existed.
The next morning she got a text with a picture of a breakfast skillet bubbling with eggs and sausage. The message, “Making you breakfast if you were in bed.”
She didn’t respond. Another text came in, but this time it was a group text. Apparently the cad had also sent the same picture and message to three other women. One responded that she didn’t eat cheese. Svetlana laughed out loud and then sent a text back.
“How many lady friends are you cooking breakfast-in-bed for?”
She had caught him. Then, just like Simon and Garfunkle’s song, there was nothing but the sound of silence. Svetlana received no more texts, phone calls or emails from the Cad.
Couldda Wouldda Shouldda
Svetlana should’ve sent him a photo of herself barfing over his sleazy comments.