The Paratrooper Knight

I love military men: they wear uniforms, they can shoot guns, they are usually pretty darn fit. Strangely enough Veteran's Weekend was just that for me with the dating adventure. I had received an email from a man who was just back from the military, lived nearby and was interested in meeting me if I "dated men his age". I see nothing wrong with 26. . . maybe I am getting into my Puma years.

His profile handle was bizarre, but I figured if he was in the military it was probably one of their nick name things and just kept reading. When I read his profile it was brief. He was just recently out of the military with an engineering background, looking for a job and figured he'd try out the online dating thing. We had corresponded a few times back and forth and decided that we were going to meet for a drink after my night job on Sunday night. I left it up to him as to where to meet and he picked The Office in Morristown.  I had not been there in a while and loved the beer selection so I agreed.  If all else failed I could get some wings and a beer and make the most of it.

On the off chance that the date was a total bust and I wanted to get out of this date early I had reached out to my friend who I knew would be in town for Sunday Funday. I was scheduled to meet my date at 7pm. I had told my friend to call at 8:30 to check in.  If I told him "I was busy" and "what's up," he was to get me out of the sticky situation with some call for help. If I told him that "all was well" then he could go back to drinking his Miller Lites and rock on without me.  I truly do have the best friends.

I arrived at the bar at just after 7.  I sat down and took a look at the beer list. I couldn't decide on one so I went with a glass of Chenin Blanc (You never find places that serve it these days and here it is at the Office? Wow.) I received a text asking where I was sitting and I sent back that I was the girl in the scarf at the end of the bar. Shortly after 7:10 I see someone walk up next to me. Now, the next three steps that happened I have only ever seen in movies. He walked up to the bar, looked dead straight on at the bartender, ordered a drink, she brought it and he throws back a big gulp.

When was the last time you saw that happen? A Western. Yeah. Never in real life.

He then turns to me, and just starts in with a conversation about I'm not sure what. Maybe it was about the parking, I don't know. All I know was that I was in shock and awe of the fact that that sequence of things happened so seamlessly. He proceeds to sit down on the bar stool, and continue sipping his beer. I was a bit put off that he just showed up and downed half his beer upon arrival with not so much as a "hi", but maybe this guy was nervous.

Now that I can focus on him and not the beer commercial that just unfolded, I realize how very tall this man is. Another secret. I love tall men.

It's not hard for me to. I am 5'4 and pretty much everyone is taller than me, so I feel that does not rule out a large group of people. I am just from the shallow end of the gene pool in the height department
and my children should have a chance at being able to see over a crowd.

I realize that not only is this man very, very tall (I think his profile said 6'7) but all of his features are very tall? His fingers unfurl when he goes to grab his beer. Somewhere in the back of my mind I keep asking myself, "Is it the size from thumb to pinkie or 3 of their thumbs in a row." I start wondering if I am sitting next to a descendant of Ron Jeremy if either of these theories are true.  I snap back to reality and he is talking about how he had gotten out of military just recently and was living at home while he was looking for a job.

I notice that while he is speaking he's blinking and rolling his eyes and the facial gestures just don't seem to be in sync with the conversation.

I try not to focus on looking at him directly in the eyes just in case this is a nervous tick. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable.  I figure if I start to ask some questions he is comfortable with, maybe it will even out this whole weird start to the date. I ask why he joined the service, what division he was in and what he enjoyed most about it. He confessed that he loved that he was stationed over seas where he had a chance to learn a new language and to surf. We began to talk about surfing and it seemed like it was turning into a normal conversation.

I did notice that when he spoke he made grand gestures with his hands and his long fingers curled and unfurled wildly. It was nearly distracting to concentrate on what he was saying because you wanted to see what his fingers did next! At points when he was depicting things, it looked like he could have been conducting the New York Philharmonic. I think maybe I am just over reacting, but he tells me during the course of our conversation he was told not to gesture during interviews because he intimidates people. And well, it's sort of intimidating me.

Now while all of this is going on he has finished off two beers, I have had my wine and he has paid for them. Points.

He asks for another beer and I order a club soda. At this point I think that I am going to stay a while. We had a great conversation about surfing, traveling and I am thinking I don't even need my call. He asks if I am going to have another glass of wine and I think "sure, why not, I think I will stay".

"Yes, please". The bartender brings another drink and I offer to pay for this round. She then asks if we will be having anything to eat, he says no, and I figure, OK Chenin Blanc for dinner it is. He starts talking about how all there was to do on the military bases was drink. I worry that this is his hobby.

I ask him to tell me more about his time in the military and what he may have enjoyed about his training.  Apparently this man was a paratrooper. Yes, as in someone who WILLINGLY jumps out of a plane. I talk to him about this very fact. What makes a sane person jump out of a plane? "Your superiors" he tells me.  This makes sense. This to me is the most revolting activity I can imagine.



I once went canyoning in Interlaken, Switzerland (see below). For three hours you were spelunking through dark caves, climbing 80 meter walls, repelling down sheer cliff faces and swimming through bone chilling glacial water with Sven and Ven who would tell you things like "jump to the left so you don't break your leg."  After jumping off cliffs that were 80 and 100 meters up, it was enough for me to swear off skydiving forever and seek counseling for what was NOT an Action Park adventure. And here sits this man who was happy to just willing to throw himself out at a height I could barely comprehend. We chatted about this for a while and by the end of the conversation I had begun to reconsider my no skydiving stance.

Now due to the success with the recent past conversations I assume that asking about this man's hobbies will reveal more conversation provoking information and ideally we will end up watching the Bears v. Texans game that is due on at 8:30.  I have also written off the emergency phone call at this point, but have done nothing to stop it. It is roughly 8pm.  I turn to him and casually ask, "What are your hobbies?" He tells me he doesn't have any. I ask if he had any in college - "no," he responds.  I ask him if he had any in high school.  He responds "no" again. Hmmm. This is getting tough. I ask him what keeps him positive or what he is passionate about. He tells me that he is not in any way a positive person. He always believes the negative is going to happen and that it gives him anxiety.  Oh jeez I think. Who actually comes out and says "I believe in the negative in everything and I have absolutely no interests". I realize that we are sitting on the precipice of the date. This is where we went from a good time to barreling down the cliff of "This Is Going to Suck".  THANK GOD THE PHONE RINGS.  I pick up - "Hello, everything OK," I ask.  My friend on the other end of the line begins "I'm really wasted and I need you to come and pick me up."

Here is the phone call to end all phone calls and I am so very grateful.

I politely excuse myself from the bar where I am sitting with this man to step a few feet away, just out of earshot.

"Really," I say.  "You are wasted and need me to come get you?"

"My girlfriend is pissed at me and I can't drive myself home and I need you to come and get me," he replies.

At this point I am truly unsure if he is wasted and needs my help because he knows I am available (potentially) at 8:30 or he's not, in which case I am calling him an agent. This is an Emmy winning performance if he is not, in fact, wasted.

"OK. Just sit tight and I will be by shortly. I am just going to wrap up here," I respond as I slide back into my bar seat, "and I will be right by to get you."

"Wow," I comment to my date. "I guess my buddy had a little too much Funday on Sunday and he's ready to go home and can't drive. He knows that I was going to be in town and asked if I could come by and pick him up. My date remarks "Oh, OK." Before this gets akward I have to capitalize on this opportunity! I apologize for having to get up and leave in such a hurry.  We both finish our drinks and he walks me out. I thank him for a lovely night, wish him well and head off down the street to investigate this quizzical phone call.

I make it down the street to the 'Hopper where I see my group of friends. There sits my friend, drink in hand. I can't tell from this distance if he is well or he has officially zoned out for the evening. I look at my clock. The date was exactly one hour and 15 minutes. I think that that is some sort of new record and I should call Guinness.

"Are you OK?" I ask. "Of course I am OK," he replies.  "You said to call."

I have to giggle. I hug him and thank him and think, "Thank God I had a parachute for that jump."