Who Wants to Be a Millionaire

Last week, I got an out-of-the-blue phone call from a guy who I used to work with years ago. He said he wanted to go grab a drink. We scheduled drinks for last night. I was thinking that he was gonna offer me a job (that I wouldn't take) so I went anyway to hear him out. I get there...and right away I realize...he thinks this is a date. He's in his early 50's, kinda attractive...but not really....but very very very rich. Yes, he's a millionaire. He is an investment banker. He starts telling me about his new house in Aspen....his loft in LoDo. I gag. He asks me if I had heard that he's separated. He tells me that he is dying to have more kids (he has a college aged daughter and a son who is 16...one from each of his previous marriages). He tells me that he is looking for a woman to pamper. He starts throwing out dollar amounts on his recent business deals (yes, in the millions). I gag. He tells me how pretty I am. He tells me that even when he was married he was attracted to me. I gag. I notice that our Mayor is at the table next to us... he gets up and interrupts the Mayor's dinner to shake his hand because as he claims they are "friends". I gag. I slip a little white lie into the conversation and I tell him that I am seeing someone. He keeps ordering more bottles of wine. I finally...after about 2 1/2 hours of weirdness tell him that I need to go home. He then throws on the table about 3 other options of things for us to do next. As politely as possible explain that I really want to go home. I guess if I wanted to be wife #3 to a millionaire...I may have been able to close that deal. I guess I don't want to be a millionaire THAT bad.