The Tight Stockbroker

I signed up to the dating website 'findsomeone.co.nz' four years ago. I didn't have much luck. I went on one date with a guy who'd watched his girl friend get shot and die and thought, not for me!
Incidentally I ended up going out with a guy who had been on findsomeone at the same time as me, but we had never been 'matched up'.. hmm, doth the internet not know everything?!?

So last week my friend said, have you been on findsomeone? There are heaps of cute guys on there, you have to have a look!
Never one to miss an opportunity for voyeurism, I logged in, unbeknownst to me, reactivating my account. After having a decent perve through the lists of men (and yes, quite a few hotties! And yes, quite a few notties), I closed it down.

The very next day, drawn like pooh bear to honey, I reopened the website, only to find that my now reactivated account had attracted a fair whack of attention!
Well of course I immediately set about updating my profile, four years had passed! Things had changed! Things I said when I was 27 were cringe-worthy! photo's could be hotter!

Bam, a message from The Stockbroker. Hi! We chatted four years ago! Lets meet up this time!

Well I like a straighforward man who will put himself out there so of course I agreed. There were numerous texts in the week which led me to believe Stockbroker man might be somewhat interesting, perhaps even have wit.

What should have alarmed me was when he referred to me as 'hot clare' (I know, I know, sounds like internet sleeze, one has to keep an open mind!), which I now think may have meant 'way out of my league clare'.

It's Friday, we meet at said bar, here's how it goes down.
I'm five minutes early (common courtesy) so I buy myself a wine and chat to an acquaintance I run into there.
Stockbroker texts that he's on his way. He arrives 11 minutes late. I make no mention of this, or even barely note it. Things happen.
He buys himself a red bull. I sip my wine.

We talk, about stock broking for about 40 minutes. Hey! I can use all the financial aid I can get, so i'm cool with that. But when he does get round to asking me why 'a hot, smart, funny woman like me is doing online dating'?
I only get three words into my reply before I physically feel him fading off into goldfish attention, blip, blip, blip.

This is not the problem, not the main one, nor is the fact that he's not all that good looking, because hey, personality talks! (his doesn't really talk, it sort of mutters).
Anyway here's the thing. The man is a stockbroker, and as far as I know (from tele and 80's movies) stockbrokers are people who tell other people what to do with their money to make the maximum amount of money from it. I'm guessing, the guy is not on the artists benefit.
He also tells me he owns two businesses and in his words 'has nothing to spend his money on'. I wonder if this is meant to lure me into liking him more, if so, it should be followed up by a magnum of champagne and being helicoptered to a spa pool of hot chocolate. But I digress...

My drink becomes empty and after leaving it a few minutes to see if he will get a round, I get up to buy myself one, it's Friday night, I didn't come out to sit still and look pretty. I offer to get him one too, which he declines.

I buy myself one, two, three drinks, always offering to buy him one as well, but he doesn't get the 'vibe' about perhaps buying me a drink.
I have to interject here and say, I am not a gold digger, not by any stretch of the imagination, and those who know my ex boyfriends can testify to this. But I think that if you are going to ask a girl out to meet you for a drink, from a dating website, then you buy her a drink. Tell me if I'm wrong??!!

So, buoyed by three wines I say to him: Want to do a trip to the bar? Reluctantly, he does. When, buoyed by an additional cider I say: want to do another trip to the bar? He says no!
In good humour I INSIST that he buys me another drink and I go to the toilet. When I return I have a half glass of cider sitting in front of me. This is because he has bought one drink, and poured half of it INTO HIS GLASS, because he ONLY FELT LIKE A HALF.

I can see me now in my minds eye, flicking my head to the side, unable to actually look at him for what I would say out loud. I'm not mad, i'm just incredulous, it just seems so... rude??!!

Buddy, I want to say, What is with you!?!? Good luck mate, I hope you enjoy sleeping on your humungous pile of cold gold coins all alone tonight!? What is $8.50 for a date with a, in your words, 'hot, funny, intelligent woman' like me?!

I glance into our future and see clothes that I've sewn to other clothes to make patchwork one piece blanket/outfits for our homeless kids.... I see valentines days with him washing half of his own dishes, saving half for me, because fairs fair. I see a wedding ring made out of coke can pull tabs....
Needless to say, Cinderella was in bed before the clock struck twelve that evening!

He texted the next day to say he'd had fun and did I want to meet again, and resisting the urge to be more frank I said no, that I didn't think that we had enough in common.
Fair enough, he said, best of luck.
I mean, you can't say he was a bad guy, just the tightest goddam stockbroker in the whole of auckland city!
Next!