Philanthropic romance

It was lunchtime and, for a change, I was working in the city. I decided to brave the gale force winds blowing up Collins St and headed out to buy my lunch. I'm on a sushi binge at the moment, so that meant heading to the Purple Peanut, near Spencer St. It's a tiny little cafe that is always crammed come lunchtime thanks to their fantastic authentic Japanese fare. Heading over the bridge across Wurrundjeri Way, I noticed a man standing unobtrusively off the side of the pavement and holding out a cup for money.

"Spare change, miss?" he asked. I looked at him as I shook my head, and saw that he wasn't that old. He had startling blue green eyes and a plaintive facial expression. I genuinely didn't have any change but felt bad about following my usual rule of not giving cash to beggars. But it also reminded me of a couple of things. The last time I gave money to a beggar was on the first date with the Talker. We both delved deep and the Talker engaged him in conversation. Based on what I later learnt about him, I'd say this was not his usual practice. I think it was done to impress me, to show how compassionate and giving he was, and that he had enough cash to be able to splash out and help the homeless pay for a night in a hostel somewhere. A guy I went out with in London tried the same trick.

And it worked. Each time I've seen this done, I've respected the guy a little more than I otherwise might have. Something about seeing a philanthropic side to my dates makes me weak kneed. I like a man with a social conscience. Or maybe I just like the idea that he can empathise, but still has spare cash. So why is it that, while I admire this trait in my men, I never actually follow through with the donations myself, unless I'm also on a date? I'm sure I'm trying to show exactly the same things as the men are, but I'm always that half a step behind because I don't normally give. Perhaps what I'm really seeing in these men is the hope that he'll take me under his wing and give me everything I want - obviously, alcohol plays a part in the delusion that this will ever happen. And in the end, if it's a false act, what do you really achieve?

In the case of the Talker, it was another two dates before I woke up to myself and realised that he was not really the gentlemanly empathetic philanthropist, but was instead a misogynist who would quite happily chain me to either the kitchen sink or the bedpost, depending upon his mood. So perhaps it's time I reversed things. I might have to start donating to beggars when I'm walking alone, and keep my coin to myself when I'm on a date. Given the way things have worked out in the past in this respect, it might be the safer course.