You can't buy me- I'm not for sale

"Have you ever dated someone with a fetish", A asks me during our dinner tonight.

I decided to take A out tonight because earlier last week, he had accused me of being "cagey" like all other women. He went as far as to claim that in his observation, a male-female friendship was always unfair to the men because they kept giving- financially, emotionally, physically- without receiving anything in return from the women. "That's a pretty big statement you're making there, buddy", I tell him. I realize that he is saying all these things to me on purpose because I refused to go to Alaska with him (his company was ready to pay for the trip). His reason for wanting to take me to Alaska- because female company is so soothing to him, especially from a sexy woman. "If that's not enough to make me feel like an object, I don't know what else is", I think to myself. Either way, I can't stand hearing this from someone. He can have his dinner that I sponsor for him tonight, and after this, it's going to be a good-bye. Of course, I'm not going to give him the benefit of a clear explanation. You just turned 31, buddy! Figure it out. Making constant sexual innuendos at me ("will you dress as a french maid when we're in alaska and squeal everytime you need help so that I can rescue you?") despite my protests, only because you find me attractive, is not going to help you. You came to me wanting my friendship at Barnes and Noble that July evening. I left to get coffee- you ran after me, telling me that you do not have enough female friends (Gee Whiz, I wonder why??)- can I be one of your few ones.

I'm not interested in you, dude. I love someone else. You already know that. Badmouthing the man I love or the situation that I find myself in only pushes me further away from you. Even if I did not love him, I could not bring myself to love you. You're shallow- only wanting to date skinny women with dark hair. You even said to me that if I was 120 pounds, I would not be so attractive to you. Well, hear out my shallow standards, then. I only date men who look better than me, and are 6 feet tall or above- alright, the former is a joke. But tall men are my type. You're 5'7- no such luck. Sorry!

You can keep your money, your Culver City Condo, your airline tickets. You can't buy me- I'm not for sale.

To answer A's question, I look back at my list of lovers. I've been intimate quite a few men, but only slept with a handful. "I've been with people who liked certain things", I remark, "But I'm not judgmental- I wouldn't call them fetishes". "But still, Shreya, some men like wierd things, like kissing your feet and your toes", he remarks. I smile- god, he's prudish, but he's like one of those men who never grew up- in a bad way. "Let's just say, that's pretty normal to me. In fact, I don't mind that." I say to him. "You've been around! Shreya!" He says it so loudly in that Indian restaurant where we're dining that it embarrasses me.This guy has been demanding my time in the evenings 3-4 times a week. Too much!

By the time he drops me home, I know that I'll have to cut off contact with him at some point. Don't know when, don't know how. But I'll have to.