There is an old saying that tells us what happens when we assume. It usually involves making an ass out of “u” and “me.”
After one particular experience with Kim, however, I've come to believe there may be another spelling. Sometimes, assume should simply be spelled “Ass=u.”
Because sometimes, the only ass involved is you. And I know this because I have experience. Kim and I met on AdultFriendFinder. Neither one of us was looking for a serious relationship. We had talked for about three weeks and eventually agreed to meet. The plan was simple enough: meet, have some fun, maybe see each other occasionally, and keep things light. No grand declarations. No wedding plans. No violins playing in the background. Just two adults meeting to see whether there was any chemistry. The night came for us to meet in person. At the time, Kim was working as a server at a high-end restaurant in Boston's Back Bay.
I've always believed that when meeting a woman for the first time, she should choose a place where she feels comfortable and safe. Kim selected a boutique hotel near her restaurant. She suggested meeting in the lounge. Now, in retrospect, there was absolutely nothing strange about that. But at the time? My brain went completely off the rails. We met on an adult dating website. She wanted to meet me at a hotel. After work.My brain immediately began constructing a story. She's an escort. I didn't know what else to think. Well, technically, I could have thought of several other perfectly reasonable explanations. But apparently, I was committed to this one.
So I called the hotel. “What's your cheapest room for the evening?” The cheapest room was around $250. I booked it. I figured that if we were going to do this, we were going all the way. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending upon how you look at my spectacular misunderstanding—something came up, and we didn't meet that night. We made plans to meet later that weekend instead. I canceled the room.
Months went by. Kim and I continued seeing each other. What had begun as something neither of us expected to become serious slowly became something very different. And about eight or nine months into our relationship, I finally told her about my original plan for our first meeting. I told her about the hotel. The room. The money I planned to bring. And, most importantly, why I had booked the room in the first place.
Kim sat quietly. I explained my reasoning. “Come on, baby. We met on an adult dating site. The first place you wanted to meet was a hotel. You weren't a scammer, so what was I supposed to think?
”She just looked at me. I continued. “I figured you were probably an escort. Or a hooker.” Kim slowly shook her head. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. Guy logic. ”That's right. Guy logic. Apparently, while I had been conducting a completely imaginary criminal investigation into her possible second career, Kim had been using a much more reasonable system of thought.
Her logic went something like this:
Kim loved her martinis. That was it. That was the mystery. While I was apparently preparing for an evening involving a hotel room and a complicated financial transaction, Kim was thinking: I know the bartenders, I'll feel safe, and they make great martinis.
Girl logic vs. Guy logic.
Two entirely different universes.
But the part that surprised me most was that Kim wasn't offended that I had assumed she was an escort.
She wanted to know why. And then she wanted to know something even more important. “How much money did you think you needed?” I told her that I had paid approximately $250 for the room and figured that somewhere around $400 would probably cover the entire evening. Kim looked at me.😳Then she started laughing.
“You thought I was going to have sex with you in an exclusive hotel for $400?” I tried to explain myself. “Well, no. Maybe around $125 for the first time. You know... maybe an hour or so.
”Kim looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. Then she said something that still makes me laugh. “Darling, it would have taken me that much just for a bar tab to get me in the mood.”
I had no response. Actually, that's not true. Of course I had a response. I always have a response. “I have class,” I told her. “I'm a gentleman.” Kim waited.
“I was going to spend $25 and get you a burger and fries afterward.”
She stared at me. “You're unbelievable. ”Then she kissed me. One of the things I loved about Kim was that she didn't immediately become offended by everything. She had her own opinions about people and the world, and she wasn't afraid to express them. When I asked why she wasn't offended that I had assumed she was an escort, she said no.
As far as she was concerned, escorts earned their money. She described what they did as something similar to skilled labor. They dealt with strange men. Sometimes weird. Sometimes dangerous. Sometimes bizarre men. They had to make conversation, navigate uncomfortable situations, and sometimescreate what she called the “girlfriend experience.”
Kim said she could never do it. Not because she looked down on anyone who did. She simply didn't think she could fake intimacy.
“I enjoy sex too much with somebody I have a connection with,” she told me. “I couldn't fake it. I mean it. Skilled labor, right there. I am impressed by those who can. Hitting a quota. Because they have to."
That was Kim. She wasn't offended. She wasn't judging anyone. She was mostly trying to understand how in the world I had calculated that $125 plus a $25 burger and fries constituted a gentlemanly evening.
Looking back, I understand something that I didn't understand at the time. Neither of us was being irrational.We simply had different information. Kim knew the hotel lounge. She knew the bartenders. She knew it was close to work. She knew it was a public place where she would feel comfortable. And she knew they made excellent martinis.
I knew that we had met on an adult dating website and that she wanted to meet me at a hotel. So, naturally, I created an entire fictional backstory in my head. That's what assumptions do.
We see a few pieces of information, fill in the missing pieces ourselves, and then convince ourselves that the story we've invented must be true. Sometimes we're right. Sometimes we're spectacularly wrong. And occasionally, months later, you find yourself explaining to the woman you love why you had reserved a $250 hotel room because you thought she might be charging you $125 for an hour.
Relationships are strange. Human connections are even stranger. Kim and I didn't meet the way most people imagine a great love story beginning. We didn't meet through friends. We didn't bump into each other in a bookstore. There were no violins. Neither one of us was looking for forever. We were just two people who met under unusual circumstances and decided to see what happened.
What happened was a relationship unlike any other either of us had expected. And maybe that's the point. There isn't one universal formula for friendship, love, romance, or human connection.
Your story doesn't have to look like someone else's story to be real. It doesn't have to begin the way people expect. Sometimes it begins with a conversation. Sometimes with a coincidence. Sometimes with a martini. And sometimes... you make a spectacularly stupid assumption.
So, yes, I've learned my lesson. Never assume. Because occasionally, the only ass in the equation is... "Ass--u."