“I’m just thinking out loud; I don’t know if I could ever go without; Watermelon sugar high”

Flattery will get you everywhere. Another first, and complimentary, message appears on my mobile screen of the dating app.

“We want different things,” he continues, “but you should know you’re beautiful. How’s the dating scene for you? Are you going on a lot of dates?”

I open his profile, first discovering he’s in Somerville, Massachusetts. Second, he doesn’t have a pet. In my mind, I dismiss him.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and I’m taking off the protective seals and tape from my new refrigerator. Innocent conversation is a nice distraction. I answer him honestly. “Thank you, I’m flattered. Laughable. No.”

The text messages lead to a sharing of laughable and nonchalant opening lines that other men send. The hollow “Hi. I hope you’re having a great day.” Or, a full-blown autobiography with checklist for a compelling potential partner to meet.

We discuss catfishing, scammers, inconspicuous married folks, and the challenge of determining who’s real and decent among it all. He asks about my experience with “Plenty of Fish.” I tell him a dozen years ago I met my last boyfriend off this site. He asks about the breakup and I give him the Reader’s Digest version.

“What do you want from this site?”

“I want to date, fall in love, and be in a relationship.”

Again, he mentions, “Well, we want different things.”

“What does that mean? What is it you want?”

“I live a ‘kink’ lifestyle. It’s not for everyone and I’m very open about that.”

“Kink? What’s that?”

“Orgies.”

A thousand questions hit my brain in rapid succession. But all I can text is, “A real-life porn.”

“Yes. Are you interested?”

"I don’t know about ‘interested’ as much as ‘intrigued’.”

Like a firing squad, questions are asked as fast as I can text them. One particular answer stands out like it's highlighted in neon yellow marker: “I’d fuck you before I took you to meet everyone else. Someone has to vouch for you before you’re welcomed in.”

Well, obviously, but …

Maybe I’m too vanilla for this lifestyle. Having interviewed him like I would for an article, my mind returns on a loop to the emotional questions: How does everyone stay safe and clean? How do you not catch feelings? If this is a lifestyle and happens frequently, how does the “experience” remain a verb? Why are you on a dating app?

And of course, “I would be just a ‘thing’? How do you build intimacy, trust, and even companionship?”

“I did say it’s a lifestyle and not for everyone.”

OK, that answers nothing.

“Will you think about it?”

“Sure.”

I consider the psychological aspects while my low-rider canine runs free in an open field. I try to come to terms with compatibility and how it relates to a traditional relationship when an unexpected idea pops up. If I had known about this “option” two years ago, maybe it would have saved my most-recent relationship. But then again, he wasn’t interested in age-appropriate partners.

Distance aside, how could I theoretically date someone who will attend these get-togethers like other men go fishing, to sporting events, or out drinking with their buddies? I can imagine our first fight and every one thereafter as he reminds me “You knew this about me!”

Does this “lifestyle” choice count as “cheating”?

When I was single in Oklahoma, I met a gorgeous and slender 6’10” man who openly admitted, after our successful first date, he was into the swinger lifestyle. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, which ultimately led to our demise.

Here I am, presented with a similar predicament with a man I mentally dismissed after I saw his first text. So, why do I care?

The question stews as I realize, I don't know that it's about interest as much as understanding. For instance, I'm fascinated by Kim Jung-Un, but I know I don't ever want to be within hand-shaking distance of him.

The figurative highlighted text stands out: I would be a “thing,” a noun to his exciting verb. Obviously, I'd be used. A wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am to determine compatibility. How does that intertwine with intimacy? It's an audition at best. Forget emotional security. Or even "like."

This isn’t forward progress, but forty-seven steps backward. At least.

A new message comes in. “You ghosted me.”

“No, just thinking.”

“And? Are you interested?”

“No. You’re right, we want different things.”

Like Mount Vesuvius reaching an ironic climax, the mood instantly shifts. The blame flows like lava pouring out from the volcano. He accuses me of wasting his time and gaslighting him.

Yes, gaslighting!

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

I choose to neither block him nor delete the conversation. I reply with decency pointing out several facts: he reached out to me; he initially said we want different things; we texted for three hours – hardly wasted time, just an afternoon; and he never asked me out. Plus, I did think about his lifestyle and ultimately decided it wasn’t for me. That’s not gaslighting.

He asks if I could date him and table the kink lifestyle. Also, if I’m not interested, we don’t have to partake.

How would that work?

We try to grapple the concept. He says it’s not a big deal and I argue to the contrary. Finally, I surrender the battle and say I’d be open to start over if he could find a way to erase our start.

“Text me,” he messages.

I literally walk away from the field and back to my car now having a new internal conversation: how could I make this work? Especially when I now know how he handles a disagreement?

It's irrelevant. For the first time since I learned the definition of a kink lifestyle, I put the focus back on me and my needs. I even consult with two girlfriends to ensure I'm not missing something. They reassure me I'm making the correct decision: there's no forward movement here.

The next day I wish him well. After he replies with a similar message, I block him.