Doubts, and Hope

The next morning at work, I told Porsche-guy about our experience with the anti-porn activist. “Oh, I’ve heard of her, she’s some kind of Christian nut,” he said. I didn’t want to get into an argument, so I just said, “she’s a really interesting speaker, you should check her out.” He was still enamoured with Annalika, and living in hope, hope that she would call him. Or that some cataclysm would sexually liberate all womankind, and that they would throw themselves at his feet. Difficult to say which would come first.

Last night’s euphoria having worn off, I was beginning to have doubts about Kristie. She was a charismatic speaker, in the way that American churchmen often are. It wasn’t that I doubted her horror tales about her life in porn. But I wondered, is it wise to mingle the Jesus message so inextricably with the anti-porn message. Christianity, with it’s triumvirate of sexless Gods, had found a high priestess, a retired harlot, born again. Was some big-American version of Jesus Christ the only way to find happiness and leave the sex industry. What of those who found salvation through Allah, Brahman or Buddha.

No, I decided Kristie was right. I may not be a big fan of organised American religion, but she was a brave woman, speaking the truth about a horrific industry. And if a happy-clappy church was right for her, then that was fine. She’d been through a lot. Whatever works. That’s my only credo.

My phone rang. A voice I didn’t quite recognise. “Hello Cara, it’s Rupert,”

“Oh,”

“Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time,”

“No, it’s fine, just that I’d not heard from you,”

“I know, I’m a shit, sleeping over and then not calling you, I was in Europe, crap excuse I know, but I had a nice time with you, and I have tickets for a show you might like.”

Rupert was an art dealer I had met on Match. I wasn’t sure why he needed to go on a dating website, but he said his travel and work schedule often made it hard to get to know people properly, and the website gave him a focal point.

I agreed to meet him for the show, but insisted on giving him the money for the ticket. He said no, it had been a freebie, so we compromised and I said I would pay for dinner, as he paid last time. “But you’re still a student,” he said. “It’s ok,” I replied, “we can go somewhere cheap.”

He laughed. “Seriously,” I said, “I had a nice time with you, and I don’t want you thinking I’m only dating you for money.”

I felt apprehensive but excited for the rest of the day. Men are such an unknown quantity, so much potential for joy, or pain.

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