Beware of Felons

I opened my email: Enjoyed reading your profile. I too am allergic to cats 🙂 Have a nice weekend and Holiday Season. – Bill

Before I responded I read his profile:

I am a very fit, educated and well travelled 48 year old man, who has lived an extraordinary life, but who has also made mistakes and is now starting over. From these mistakes and the resulting consequences, I have learned humility and am thankful for the opportunity to reinvent myself. Daily, I have to be the best man I can be in every aspect of my life, especially in a future relationship. I look forward to getting to know a special woman, with whom there will be love, friendship, trust, laughter, fun and special moments to share; a very special woman who will take a “leap of faith” and look to the future and its potential. To start, a coffee would be nice. Thank you for reading my profile. I wish you joy.


Wow! What an odd profile. I typed:

“From these mistakes and the resulting consequences” – Wow, what did you do?

He typed back: BTW, you have a great smile 🙂

It figures, no response to my question. My computer chimed again. There was another message from him:

While trying to save my 25 year export management company during the financial crisis, I made a poor choice and consequently was convicted of a white collar felony, spending 21 months in federal prison. I am now a 48 year old man restarting his life, grateful for this second chance. From the day I started my sentence (returned home in Aug. 2014) and everyday since, I work on being the best man I can be intellectually, spiritually, emotionally and physically. Now you know. I wish you a peaceful weekend. – Billo-BEHIND-BARS-FOR-BEING-POOR-facebook

I replied: That makes sense. I figured it was something like that. You are very brave to share that straight off. Most people do not reveal themselves like that even in person – certainly not on the internet! Best of luck to you.

His reply: Thank you. I appreciate your responding. You are obviously a woman of substance with a kind soul; beautiful inside and out. I wish you joy. -Bill

Dating is hard enough. I certainly don’t want to date a felon. Especially an out of town felon. That’s just too much to deal with!

Robert Redford – Not

His profile pictures looked like Robert Redford. The younger Robert Redford we know and love. We had many interests in common and he had lved in Paris, my favorite city in the world.


He was waiting for me in a nearby sushi place. From the empty plates on the small table it appeared that he had a few rolls and a sake, maybe two, while he waited for me. He sat low in the chair, his legs stretched out and resting on the window sill. I thought it was strange that he didn’t stand up when I entered the restaurant. I sat down. Although it was the first time we evere met in person, we chit chatted easily but he was a little squirrely. It became worse. He was moving around in his seat as he changed topics of conversation at lightening speed. Clearly he was smart but this guy had, as my mother would say, “ants in his pants”.

“It looks like you’ve had dinner already. Should we get out of here?”

“Lets hang here. I have to pick up a prescription around the corner.”

“Something for ADD?” I said it as a joke but I kind of meant it.

He was surprised at my question and made an awkward joke. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. After an uncomfortale silence I asked him about his dog. He was nuts about the imagesGolden Retriever puppy. He could saty focused and talk for hours about her.At 6:00 his phone pinged. The prescription was ready.

“Come with me and I’ll walk you home.”


He wrapped his grey plaid scarf around his neck. It was an older scarf, and a little scraggily – wahed too many times. He put his Parker jacket on. It had a bedraggled fake fur trim. Suddenly Robert Redford wasn’t quite as hot. He certainly was not the 5′-11″ he promised in his profile. Now, generally speaking I have no problem with men shorter than myself. In this particular case I am ashamed to say I had this man, based on his photo, profile and pedigree, on a pedestal.


Outside the pharmacy, he leaned me against the cold granite wall and kissed me. The kiss was warm and wet and tasted like sake and ginger. He was a good kisser. Taken by surprise, I was immediately turned on. He slipped his hands under my coat and began to feel for my waist. He continued to kiss me. The wall was icy and his hands were cold. The combination sent a shiver up my spine.

“Let’s go to your place?” he whispered. I thought I had misunderstood him for a moment. I had known this guy for all of 45 minutes. “Is anyone there? At your place?”

“My housekeeper.”

“Tell her to go home. You don’t need her.”

“I can’t do that! I do in fact need her. It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow and she’s scrubbing everything so the place shines ”

“Do you have a back door? Sneak me in.”

He kissed me again. This time roughly pushing me against the wall hard, jamming his hands down my pants. I was wearing boots with heels and realized how much taller I was then him. I could see the top of his head. He was getting rough. Too rough. My head hit the granite wall and I could feel his nails in my lower back pushing down into my jeans towards my ass.

“Excuse me.” a woman pushing a stroller with a couple of kids ssai. We were now blocking the entrance to the pharmacy. He dropped his arms to his side and stepped away. She smiled at me as if I was lucky to be with such a passionate man.

“I have to go,” I blurted out wipping my mouth and closing up my coat.

“No wait, I’ll come with you. I’m really having a good time. Aren’t you?”

Part 2 to follow.


Quebec Hook-Up

I don’t know anyone in Quebec.canada I know people all over the world but no one in Canada. Normally quite adventurous I was feeling down at the thought of being away for nearly a week, in a hotel room, and not knowing a single soul. I asked friends for contacts. I posted on Facebook asking for introductions. Nothing. I did get a list of clubs, restaurants and cafes, shopping districts, sights to see but no personal contacts. That’s when I came up with the idea of connecting with people on If I were lucky, I could have a date and a tour guide wrapped into one!

I searched and found a small number of men in the vicinity I would be visiting. I immediately noticed that the men in Quebec didn’t post attractive photos or they just weren’t attractive like the men in NYC or LA. Bummer. I continued to hunt for a suitable date. Some profiles were in French, others in English, and some in a combo of the two languages, My French was good enough to decipher the profiles. My vocabulary wasn’t terrible but my conversation is. I was leaning toward an English speaker. I contacted three of the more attractive men. I heard back from two who seemed excited at the idea of meeting an American tourist. One offered to be my tour guide if I promised to speak only French and he would only speak English. I thought that sounded fun and fair.

The other gentleman was more attractive and younger, had a more playful profile, and said he would love to “hook up”. Two dates in one week while I was away would be perfect! I was so pleased. And then I wondered if “hook up” in Quebec was the same as in the states. I panicked. Was he expecting a sexual liaison or was it simply a general phase for meeting up?

Well, worry not. The “hook up” dude had to run up to the Laurentians (the mountains nearby. From what I heard many people left the city on weekends and went to the country homes there – kInd of like going to the Hamptons for the weekend.) He invited me to join him. I politely declined. Being in another country (although only Canada not Afghanistan) meeting a stranger and going to his cabin in the mountains seemed like the beginning of a horror movie where the naive woman winds up as dinner for the fit, rugged, charming outdoorsy guy with an accent.

So instead I made plans with Old MontrealOlivier. He would pick me up at me at my hotel (maybe this wasn’t such a wise move). I got ready and looked at his profile one more time to make sure I would recognize him when we met. This time when I looked I noticed three photos I either missed the first time (I find that hard to believe) or he had recently  uploaded new additional photos. They are below. Draw your own conclusions:

.4b2fc8ff-8b7d-e511-8223-68b5996cf49a  1d293bf8-8b7d-e511-8223-68b5996cf49a


If these photos had been on the profile page from the “hook up” guy who invited me to the mountains it would have made much more sense. And the movie I had been imagining would now be a psycho-sexual horror blockbuster – a 50 Shades of Grey meets Cape Fear.

But alas it was Olivier’s profile. And he would be at my hotel momentarily. I reminded myself to relax. I was a grown up. I went down to the hotel lobby and met Olivier. He was sweet and more attractive than his profile photos.  We walked to a busy street filled with high-end shops and a multitude of bars, cafes, and restaurants. We went to a well know one where we shared stories of love, loss and the ever-changing game of dating: Plenty of Fish, a Quebec only dating site, and “I’m a Parisienne in a city of mostly Canadians. It’s hard sometimes. The mentality is different.”

The sightseeing that I was hoping to do never happened. Olivier had had a long night – the Paris terror attacks had happened the night before. He explained, “It was a short night. I had the news on, and I was checking in on friends in Paris” I understood completely. I had been in New York City on 9/11 and watched the towers burn down in person and over and over again on television.

12208865_10208062884155719_315191322326278932_nI told him about being in Paris not long after 9/11. I was looking for the Picasso Museum or a place for breakfast, I can’t remember. I do remember coming across a tribute to 9/11 – a mural in red,white and blue. I stood frozen at the wall when a Parisienne spoke to me. He saw I was moved. When he learned I was from New York he was so empathetic, so kind. I could see his eyes swell up as did mine. He reached out and embraced me – this random stranger. We hugged for what seemed like forever. I wish I could hug all of Paris today. 

Olivier’s photos didn’t matter any longer. We had bonded on a much more important level. I didn’t care if he had a foot fetish or was into some kind of masked fantasies a la 50 Shades of Grey.

As we parted Olivier said, “Thank you for helping me forget life for a few hours.” We hugged. It wasn’t a standard hug but something far bigger.


The lovely Hotel Omni Mont-Royal is located at 1050 Rue Sherbrooke O, Montréal, QC H3A 2R6, Canada