The English Prof

I have three dates lined up starting with Friday. Women would have nothing to do with me in my youth, but now I am in demand and like a kid in a candy store. Almost all of these women are professionals, some, like Jenn, my Friday date have PhDs. Jen is an English professor. She probably works for the prestigious college in the Boston area that I'm meeting her at in Starbucks. Jen is a FastCupid date. She seems very interested in me, but I get the sense that she is expecting me to be a well-to-do person because I live in a well-to-do town and even went on vacation recently in one of the richest places in the country. Jen is 37. I would not say that she is beautiful, but you can see dimples when she smiles, and I cannot resist the dimple. I have no doubt that she is vastly intelligent. PhDs are very difficult to obtain. I like smart women.

I think in the final analysis she is a long-shot. But let me let you in on my fantasy, and it's really not sexual or even terribly romantic, but bourgeois. I fantasize that perhaps she will see something about me emotionally or intellectually that she cannot resist, and she will accept my economic failings, or at least believe in me, as I do. (I have never given up on myself.) I fantasize about her being my wife and her baring me a baby girl, hopefully with cute dimples like her.