One word or comment in a written message or during a conversation can make or break your interest in a person. A man can appear too forward, defensive, sexual, or needy. Sven had many of these traits–especially neediness. He continued to send long text messages about various topics. I communicated with him more so out of curiosity than interest.

I still hadn’t received a photograph from Sven. That raised a red flag. You might as well hang up your high heels if the person at the other end of a text has little appeal to you. The type of photograph a person posts on their profile page, too, is paramount. How do they portray themselves? Is the picture a professional photograph or a selfie? Are they smiling or serious? Are they in a gym showing off muscles, on a beach, or on a ski slope allowing the viewer to know a bit about them?  A photo can determine a lot. Maybe Sven was hiding something. But the texts kept coming and were more and more personal. 

I hope that given time you can bring yourself to trust me, none of us are alike we deserve to be happy in many ways……no one can ever make someone love them, it must be gained by trust and freely given and freely accepted. Signed, Your Sven

I wasn’t sure where all this was coming from—what deluded place in his mind created a romance between us. This Navy SEAL had been underwater way too long. His dialogue bordered on insanity, considering I wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a lineup. Who was he?

During a phone conversation that lasted way too long, Sven went off on a political tirade one day. He didn’t like President Trump and was angry with him. He became pretty graphic about the Republican party, and I asked him to stop. He segued into a new topic–an offer he’d received “that only lifetime SEALS could get.”  The S.E.A.L. Association offered a man’s watch to Life Members that was priced right.  He said he’d ordered one. He was so proud. Then, he returned to politics.

“If I were President,” he said, “I’d have the Bradford Exchange make a whole set of dishes stamped with the Presidential Seal with a picture of me and you and our pets on it. You’d be First Lady.” 

            I made the decision then to discontinue communication with him. Something was truly wrong with this person, and my curiosity had waned. I told him as much, but his reaction was not what I expected. He felt that my lack of interest was because he’d never sent a photo. He sent one immediately—one taken on his wedding day fifty years ago, standing alongside his bride; a picture of two young kids; one pretty girl in a lovely white dress and a young man in a Popeye sailor suit. 

No comment.

            He continued to send messages, one about the Covid vaccines coming to Walmart and how he would be first in line—others about nonsense. I didn’t respond, and I thought he’d finally understood that I had no desire to continue these conversations. But then, a selfie arrived along with the following message.

Got my hair cut. Also had to do my labs. (These were blood tests, etc. He’d advised me of all of his medical issues, as well.)  It’s Sven’s day, but hey one thing better would be doing everything, coming home, hearing a nice sweet voice, a great supper, relaxing to some music or movie, then a nice hot bath or shower and holding my gal next to me.  Sorry, I should have not mentioned the last part—don’t want to turn you on. I can control myself, fierce will power.

His new-haircut selfie was nothing short of heinous. It portrayed an older, white-haired,  broad-shouldered man in a white V-neck tee shirt. A pear-shaped head with a prominent forehead and narrow temples sat upon his stocky neck. He had beady eyes, a broad nose, and wide nostrils, with distinct puppet lines accentuating a clean-shaven, jowly face.  Not for me.

I did not respond, hoping he’d disappear. I didn’t hear from him by text or phone until I did. Then it was clear that Sven did not understand subtle hints.

I’m willing to bet if you were to do one of your cooking days just you and I are there and I’m wearing nothing except slippers and your [sic] there with just your apron on you might blush thinking about it but you’d never forget it and it would not be the only time. Imagination wow.

I did what I should have done at the very start. I blocked Sven.

© Miriam Greenberg, and the blog Love In The Time Of Corona, beginning April 2022 to the Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miriam Greenberg and Love In The Time Of Corona with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.