7 Ways I Might Have Known I Was Dating a Predator

Sitting in my vehicle just before 8 a.m. the other day, I saw a man walk across the street to his car with his shoes in hand. Cool shoes, hipster half-boots, and wearing an oxford shirt mostly buttoned but not all. He was young, tousled and handsome and walking barefoot to his Lexus wagon with the look of exiting a place not his own. It reminded me immediately of a man I dated for a brief two months a few years ago who once watched me sit to put on the heels I had been wearing the night before and say he always thought it was sexy when women left with their shoes in their hands. He was very sexy to me, I craved him and his attention, but contrary moments like that should have been my clues to his arrogance. In our parting conversation he disdainfully told me the unwanted handmade birthday gift in his hand was the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given him. A compliment of dichotomy.

I've recently had a traumatic dating experience with miscalculated intentions; predictably it has impacted the way I will and want to meet men. I haven't expected to write about it without confronting my own contributions to what was ultimately a trauma for me. Several weeks removed, I can more clearly see how I might have known I was dating someone that now strikes me as a sexual predator. Much like the fellow I knew above, he was someone who had my attention by virtue of his smarts, sass and straight up sex appeal.

He got my attention, and then he let me make all the moves.
By virtue of busy schedules and brief as well as impromptu connections, I unwittingly initiated all the thrills of getting together. He simply kept saying yes.

Emotional intelligence is his curb appeal modus operandi.
He has it. However, he avoided being sexually explicit in his probing honesty and admissions. Saying "I'm a lot" proved to be highly insufficient introduction to his sexual proclivities. But a potential romantic partner being vocal, communicative and inquisitive about shared interests is an easy invitation to be smitten in the wilds of online dating.

In broad daylight "Why am I not fucking you right now?"sounded good.
Too good. I liked it. Rarely if ever since I was 17 has a man I've simply kissed turned on my body at the mere thought of him. When you crave someone that much, anything sounds like a compliment in his company.

He invited me to a sex club for a date and seemed to relish my subsequent curiosity when I said I had questions instead of saying no or yes.
Personally, I know I'm more likely to enjoy that kind of destination when I've already breached intimate boundaries. But I've met a lot of people out there in the land of online dating as well as acquainted with or been hounded by plenty more, and nothing surprises me about the stunted ideas of seeking connections. I had good questions. He confirmed all my suspicions. Timing never landed us at the sex club. But I know he frequents all three in town; I can usually admire a man who is willing to share his lifestyle interests with me.

It wasn't groceries in his paper shopping bag when I suggested we go on a picnic, and we met at my house.
It wasn't the original plan to meet at my house, but it did happen. I'm going to chalk that up to an incident of timing and strong appetite for living on the edge. My rule about not inviting men to my home if I haven't been to theirs is pretty solid, well-founded and smart. Yet it also falters with the spirit of impulsiveness, the safety of daylight and the intrigue of a fantastic connection. But letting someone into your home is a (deserved) signal of trust and consent by my estimation of dating middle aged men. In my experience, men like sex when they can get it. They don't always recognize that women like sex when they want it. His bag was equipped with sex toys and mezcal. He came with an agenda under cover of accepting a picnic invitation. Was I surprised? No. Was I game? Yes, though......

He equated being in my home as a measure of my permission and safety. 
"This is your home. You're safe here." If that's not the most revealing predatory statement for a guest in your home to make to you when you're struggling to balance discomfort with pleasure and surprise in their company, what is?

He had a safe word.........that he didn't reveal until I needed it.
He had a safe word! That I didn't know. Whereas he had the concept in place, there was absolutely no conversation or agreement to enter an intimacy that would warrant a safe word. Cerebrally, I was caught in the conundrum and momentum of dichotomous confusion and pleasure when I needed such a word - and I had to beg for it.
Ironically, I had spent the better part of the prior 8 months deflecting the advances of another man who desired an intimate relationship with me based on his rules and kink. He was annoyingly persistent about trying to convince me it would be worth my time and stubbornly disinterested in accepting my deflection, but in comparison he was marvelously and respectfully communicative about the breadth of his desires without actually advancing them upon me on the rare occasions he might have.

On the one hand, I went with my eyes open into the embrace of a predatory man whose success in his profession as a fighter is training to get what he wants. It was part of the intrigue, until he opened season on my 'training' without me knowing the regimen and rules. On the other hand, he mistook my curiosity and miscalculated my interest as an invitation to skip the niceties. Resultingly, my intrigue and curiosity dissipated instantly. Then came the interval of three days when I struggled to focus on the tasks before me. I lacked appetite, lost all interest in connecting with him, barely noticed he wasn't making any effort to communicate with me. The mystique, excitement and respect evaporated in his presence and then morphed into post traumatic stress. It took me three days to recognize the symptoms, six days to forgive myself my smitten weakness, more than six weeks to find an angle of communication about it. He gave me a lot to think about. I have no doubt he's unaware of the weight of his actions and ways. I believe I'm one in a succession of many others. He will go on in his search for someone who fulfills his greatest need - to know that women like him - and to use it as a cue for secret scripted intimacies.

And I have to believe, only a predator exploits people that way.