Princess MoMo

Brief overview of relations with Mr. Plane:  A day after speaking to him on the phone for the first time, he led me on a surprise adventure to Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend.  (He owns a plane.)  Later that week we went to dinner in the beautiful Garden State, New Jersey.  And at the end of that week, we went to dinner in scary Pennsylvania and then he took me to his “farm.”

I. The Short Story

Here’s the short story: The Friday farm night was a blur for me. I ingested too much non-Goose toxic (i.e., poison known as Ketel One) causing memory impairment. Unbeknownst to me (until he later told me), I threw a fit. I told him I did not like him, wanted to be in a separate room and that I would leave if the MoMo-mobile was accessible to me and I wasn’t under the influence. In the morning, when he dropped me off at my car (which was in New Jersey), he said he’d call me that night. He didn’t.

Due to the lack of memory storage related to this episode, when he didn’t call for a week, I had no idea why. I called him the following Friday and left a voicemail to the effect of, “Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a week…just wanted to make sure everything is alright with you.” Around 9 p.m., I began getting my B.G.C. (Blood Goose Content) up. By the time he returned my call, there was more Goose than blood flowing through my veins. He described the tantrum and I was tasked with rationalizing my irrational behavior. In my altered state of mind, I concocted some sort of explanation. We talked for an hour that Friday night. Saturday morning, I called him again in an effort to have a sober discussion. He was very curt and said that he had to go for flight lessons and he’d catch up with me some other time. The following Friday (9/30) was supposedly his birthday. (You’ll soon learn why I say “supposedly.”) I called him on his supposed birthday and recorded a voicemail wishing him a happy birthday. THE END (of the short story).

II. The Long Story

Here’s the long story: From the beginning with Mr. Plane, something seemed amiss. When we spoke for the first time, he purported that I was the first person he’d contacted on the dating site. I asked why he was on a dating site. He said a friend had suggested it and that prior to joining, he had a girlfriend for a long time.

The first date, during which he piloted us to Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend, was out of the ordinary. While I had my apprehensions about him being a psycho person chopper, he should have had some similar thoughts. I could have chopped him up. Of course, I’m not a psycho of the human chopping type, but how could he have been certain of that? During our weekend together, I asked normal people questions like, “Where did you go to school?” His answer was not temporally precise. I also followed up on the “long time” abstraction with regard to the girlfriend he had previously mentioned. He said he dated her for two years. In my mind, when he said “long time,” I was thinking 5 or maybe 8 years. So, I asked about prior relations. Again, his response was not precise at all. His delivery of these responses did not strike me as evasive at the time, but in retrospect, after Detective MoMo assembled the pieces of the puzzle, the picture became clear.

A. No Social Media Use And Preliminary Google Investigation Results 

During our escapade, he mentioned that he doesn’t take part in any social media because he prefers anonymity.  When I arrived home from Martha’s Vineyard, I Googled his name. (I learned his last name from the woman he introduced me to in Martha’s Vineyard. During his chat with her, she mentioned it in passing and I made mental note of it.) The only hit I got was his plane registration information. I was able to verify that information because I knew his plane number from having been on it. However, according to those records, he registered the plane 10 years ago. When I had first boarded his aircraft, I asked him how long he’d had his plane and pilot license. He said 7 years. Aside from the blatant discrepancy, the numbers weren’t adding up.

According to his dating profile, he was 32 at the time of our MVY trip. During our first conversation, I asked him for his birth date because on the dating site, he was listed as a libra, like me. (Shout out to all my libras out there!) So, presumably, he was scheduled to turn 33 shortly after we became acquainted. If his listed age were accurate, the plane records would lead to the conclusion that he acquired the plane at age 22. That conclusion didn’t seem realistic.  Interestingly, when I told Mr. Plane that I had Googled his name, he sounded offended by my investigatory work.

B. Multiple Driver’s Licenses 

The following Wednesday, we met for dinner.  During the meal, we were discussing the disturbance police cause to drivers.   He mentioned having licenses in several states.  I questioned the legality of possessing multiple licenses.  He said, “It would be dumb not to have licenses in several states.”  Two days later, I visited his “farm,” but I did not drive there, so I didn’t have the address for purposes of  information verification.

C. No Paper Trail

Aside from the day we were planning to meet up for the first time, he never responded via text.  In fact, he was adamant about how much he couldn’t stand texting.  Mind you, I’m not generally a conversational texter, meaning I don’t “shoot the shit” over text.  But, I’m not opposed to exchanging a few texts here and there.  Additionally, I asked for his email address several times but he never gave it to me.  Along the same lines, after our initial exchange on the dating site, I wrote to him a couple of times (on the site).  He never responded in writing to my messages.

D. Failed Attempt to Verify His Information

Because my simple Google search did not yield much helpful information, I had to step it up a notch.  I consulted a public records database.  Surprisingly, I got no hits matching his name, city of residence and supposed birth year.  I expanded the search to include those aged 31-39.  No luck.

E. Intangibles

He was too convincing.  By nature, I’m stubborn and damn near impossible to sway from my desired position.  Mr. Plane had no trouble altering my points of view.  For example, just two days after returning from MVY, I was ready to dismiss him.  My gut was not at ease.  Indeed, I began writing about my discomfort with the MVY date and midway through the narrative, he called and suddenly, with a few words from him, the tone of the post (and more importantly, my mindset) changed.  He had this way about him.  I even called him on it during the Wednesday dinner date.  I told him he was like a really good car salesman.  He took that comment offensively, but I meant it as a compliment.  He is an excellent manipulator.  Again, that is a compliment.  He also elicited emotional responses from me outside of the norm.

Additionally, my lecher detector sounded off around him.  He looked at me as if he were a starving predator and my precious, smooth, aromatic flesh were his prey.  In a way, the predator/prey dynamic was kind of hot because it aroused primal urges, but it was also creepy.  I was like a confused gazelle debating whether to run to or from the lion, knowing full well he wanted to eat me.  I expressed to him that he is a “lecherous fuck.”  He was amused by that name.

And, perhaps worst of all, he reminded me of my all time worst boyfriend.  For instance, when I was stepping off of the aircraft, he was instructing me on a specific way to do so.  I wasn’t quite following the choreographed steps he was describing.  I asked, “Why can’t I just jump off?”  He responded, “Why can’t you learn to do anything right?”  This echoed in my head for days.  It sounded like some of the condescending garbage my douche worst boyfriend of all time would say.  It wasn’t so much the statement itself that was cutting, but more the tone and the generalization about not being able to do anything right.   Also, he spewed a certain rhetoric about being kind to one’s fellow man, etc.  Too much soap box shit makes me skeptical.  The douche ex spewed similar rhetoric, except his was more geared towards honor, loyalty and courage.  He must have confused himself for King Arthur.  The disturbing part about dudes who talk too much about ideals is that their own actions fall far short of their speech.  It’s like they’re overcompensating.

F. Conclusion

As I mentioned in Section I above, the final contact I initiated with him was the birthday voicemail (which is too bad for him because I was planning on buying him airplane onesies for his birthday).  Subsequent to that contact, I struggled with the outcome of my relations with Mr. Plane.  At times, I thought that perhaps I had a ruined a golden opportunity.  But, then I’d change my mind and convince myself that my non-Goose-induced tantrum was my subconscious way of protecting myself from a potentially bad situation in which my defense mechanisms were dismantled and I was at the mercy of a master manipulator.  The struggle was ongoing for about a week.  (A week in MoMo-time is like a month in standard time.)

About a week later (10/11), I was sitting in  my office doing office things, when suddenly my device lit up.  It was Mr. Plane.  I answered with the customary “hello.”  No response.  Once again, I repeated, “Hello.”  Nothing. I hung up.  Less than a minute later, the device lit up again.  Guess who?  Lest the suspense kill you, it was Mr. Plane.  I once more “hello-d.” Nothing.   Then I said one final “hello.”  With that, I got a response.  Mr. Plane returned my hello.  He asked how I was doing.  In a very monotone voice I said I was doing well.  He then asked, “Did I call you or did you call me?”  I told him that he called me.  Twice.  He said, “Well, it was accidental.  I plugged my phone in to charge and came back and you were here.” I replied, “Ok.”  He continued, “What are you doing?”  I said, “Writing a letter.”  He asked, “What are you thinking about?”  I responded, “This letter I’m writing.”  Probably sensing that I wasn’t in the mood for peopletalk, he said, “Well, if you ever want to call to say hi, feel free to do so.” Right.  That’s exactly what I want to do…call and say hi.

I felt compelled to confront him about his age, but I didn’t want to do it directly.  So, I said, “Well, I called you on your supposed birthday to wish you a happy birthday.”  He said, “My supposed birthday?” I replied, “Yup.”  He said, “I don’t know if I told you but I was out west visiting my brother for 5 days.” He had told me.  I responded, “So, how old did you turn?”  Nervous laughter.  He repeated the question (typical of liars – buying time to think up a response).  He then jokingly said, “Sixty.” I pressed the subject and once again asked how old he turned.  He responded, “Hold on a second.”  A few seconds later, he returned and said, “Hello?” I said, “Yeah?”  He said, “Hello?” I said, “Yeah?”  He said, “If you can hear me, give me a call later.” With that, he hung up.   The jig was up.

Supposedly, curiosity killed the cat.  Luckily, I’m not a cat.  I wanted confirmation that he was indeed 10-11 years older than he represented and I was now curious as to his marital status.  I’m a resourceful individual.  I dug up various public records (so that I could cross reference/verify).  Yes, he is indeed 42.  Thankfully, it does not appear he is married.  All of the elements described above made sense given his actual age (e.g., the “older” generation is less likely to be as prone to texting and online dating; a 42 year old is more likely to view a female in her mid-twenties as fresh meat; a 15 year age gap usually leads to power dynamics in which the older male is more dominating over the younger female than he would be of a female closer to his age).

Frankly, had he disclosed his age, I would not have taken much issue with it.  In closing, liars suck.   In the words of Herman Cain, “Let’s get Real.”

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Related Posts:
Gettin’ High to and from a Three Day First Date

A Piece of MoMo’s Mind: Why First Dates Involving Planes And Weekend Getaways Are Not A Good Idea. (Camping isn’t a good idea either.)

Princess MoMo on the Farm (Dates two and three with Mr. Plane)

Conversation re: Mr. Plane