saving up for a cow

I met someone online recently who was interested in dating me. A solid, but by no means stand-out guy that, sure, I'd accept a brunch date with... except... he's in what he describes as an "open relationship" -- he and his girlfriend have been seeing (and sleeping with) other people after ten years of monogamy, and everyone's cool with that.

Now, I can see how that might work well. If you eat a little peanut butter every day, you won't sit down and eat a jar in one sitting. And as much as I love peanut butter, I've never actually gotten through a whole jar of it, but you also won't find a trace of peanut butter in my house.

So (for more reasons than my lack of self-control with peanut butter) I know that for me, an open relationship is not an option. I don't want to be second to anyone, except maybe the guy himself (or whatever eventual family there might be). Hell, even a guy with a dog is almost more than I can bear... although I'm willing to learn (girl's gotta have some flexibility).

Adapting the standard cow metaphor ("why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free") my personal open-relationship theory is "why even try to find out if you like the milk if you can't always count on the cow to be there?"

ANYWAY, to get to the point, after I had made it clear that I was too jealous a person to get involved romantically with someone who was involved with someone else, he made a joke that, even though I knew he was kidding, was so inappropriate, that it just shut the door on brunch forever. He said, "I suppose if you were capable of sharing attention and affection rather than needing it all for yourself, you wouldn't have become an actor."

[In his defense he apologized later, saying it wasn't a joke about me, or even about actors, but about the stereotype of actors. But come on, I haven't even met you yet and you're making needy actor jokes???]

What really surprised me, though, was how hurt I was by the implication that my desire for exclusivity somehow translated into a need for attention, which in turn was translated into something bad. And by the judgment I felt him making about my life and the choices I've made -- especially when I tried so hard not to judge him based on his.

He wanted me to apologize for the needs I know I have. Which, a few years ago, I probably would have done.

No more selling out, though. I'm going to buy me a cow someday, and I need to start saving.