The Collegiate Knight

I know that there have been a number of wacky dates and it's been a while since I had a date where I didn't wonder why I was doing this. Fortunately for me, this Knight was a breath of fresh air. It's an odd start to a good story. . .here we go.

I bartend a few nights a week at a restaurant that is uber close to three universities. Due to this fact, on any given Friday night I marvel and enjoy the spectacle of college kids in the "we are allowed to drink finally" ritual. This event of binge drinking followed by hysterical shenanigans give the staff a great laugh and bring me back to my college days when throwing up in the bathroom and then continuing on with your night of boozing was par for the course.

One of the other things that I marvel at concerning these kids is how young they look. When I was in high school the Senior boys had five o'clock shadows before lunch and both the men and women looked like they were thirty when they graduated. I find that the college students that come in to my restaurant now are Beiberesque in their youthful charm. Even the 21 year olds look like they are twelve and generally once a night I am stunned by what a 23 year old man or woman looks like. I must be getting old.

The Friday night I am about to relay started out as most do. You have your happy hour crowd, followed by the dinner crowd, followed by the band crowd, followed by those who are making one last rally on the way back to their dorm. This particular evening we are somewhere between the band crowd and the last hurrah group.

I realize this bar is different from the bar I speak of but the crowd pretty much looks just as energized. 

By this point in the night, this place is a mad house. The bar is full, the tables are packed and it's standing room only. As I navigate through the crowd I am frequently reminded of re living my birth, and the phrase "excuse me" goes from a request, to a demand.  If I am serving the bar tables I am generally just dropping drinks and running around in my "orbit", (as I like to refer to it) as I circumvent the bar. I don't generally see people. What I see are near empty drinks, empty drinks, or people flagging me down for drinks. I am in work mode: I am a machine. 

Three glasses of Pinot Grigio, two shots of Jack, four Blue Moons and a partridge in a pear tree. I got it all in my noggin till I report back to the computer to ring it in, pick it up and drop it off.  Repeat.  That's my night. It's invigorating, frustrating, fast-paced and fun.

Periodically I have a quick chat with the other server to make sure that we are all OK and if I am lucky, I get to say a few words to the servers on the dining side of the restaurant while standing at the service station. This particular time we were standing there one of the servers had asked me if I had carded one of the guys at the table behind us. I card everyone. I do with style and grace by telling people I have to "card everyone who doesn't look old enough to be my Mother/Father." I find this curries favor with those who are otherwise offended by my ask. . .and you do get more with sugar than vinegar. 

I tell my fellow server that, I had, in fact, carded the table and knew that they were not only 21 but all 22 and older. We remarked at how young looking they were for their age, and then I dashed off to drop off my laundry list of drinks. Turns out I was headed to this very table. 

I cruised over, smiled, and dropped off their drinks. One of the five graciously took the glasses that were empty and passed them along the end of the table and smiled at me as he did so.  He had a boyish charm when he smiled at me. I smiled back. I recalled carding him. He was 23. I gathered the empty glasses, thanked him, and scurried off to the next table. 

A short while later I was back at the table and they were asking for shots. I brought a round of shots to them and then as per my orbit, picked them back up upon my return. Again, this kid put all the glasses together and passed them back to me, making sure to make eye contact with me. Again, I smiled, thanked him and took the glasses.  As I took them off the table he quietly whispered to me "you know you're a beautiful girl." I smiled at him, turned fifty shades of red, thanked him for his kind words, and scurried away again. Clearly this man has been drinking. 

A while later I was coming past again I noticed some empty glasses and stopped to pick them up. This time, the gentleman that had been passing the glasses was sitting at the table alone among a number of empty glasses and chairs. I turned and remarked to him, "What happened to your friends?" He looked at me and he said "I waited behind after they left because I wanted to get your number." I was stunned. This never happens. 

I looked at him and recalling his age I leveled with him. "Look. I think that that's super sweet but if you knew how old I was, I am sure you wouldn't be interested." 

He looked at me quizzically. 

"I am going to be thirty five next year," I responded feeling my wrinkles multiply as I said it. 

Looking unfazed, he asked again "so now can I get  your number?" 

"I think you have had a bit too much to drink. . . Thank you for flattering me but I don't think I should be giving customers my number."

I liked this persistence, and he was super cute. Blond hair, blue eyes, broad shoulders and a bigger build. He looked like he could be a some sort of athlete, and I wondered what? But wait. No.  Too young Chris. Keep moving. 

While I was having some internal debate between whether I was a cougar, puma or just fatigued from a long night at work, he was scribbling something on a piece of paper.

"Here you go," as he handed me his number.  "This is my number so you can call me and have me take you out." 

Here was this 23 year old kid channeling the phrase I would have killed to hear from a man my age.  As to not be the talk of the staff that night, I took the number from him and squirreled it away in my pocket vowing that despite my taking it I was not going to use it.  

He wished me good night and then departed out the back door. What was I going to do  with this number? He was a customer, too young, and a laundry list of other reasons why this was a bad idea.  I continued on with my night of bussing, dropping, filling and re filling and then ultimately cleaning and heading home. When I got home and was emptying my pockets I found his number. Not sure what to do with the number, I put it on my foyer table and starred at it. Like the frigging number was going to give me an answer. 

The number sat on my foyer table for two weeks. 

Now a fortnight later I am working at my job, per my usual schedule. I've been buzzing around the busy bar all night taking my inventory of empty and full glasses. I happen to see a table get seated off on the other side of the bar so I begin to head over to get a drink order. As I get closer I can now see it is the gentleman from earlier in the month who had left his phone number. Crap. Now what. I never called. Akward! 

I am just going to glaze over this.

"I can do my job, make like I am busy and just pretend like I don't even notice he's there. I am sure he won't say anything," I nervously think to myself. I begin to breeze by the table and I feel someone touch my arm.  

"Oh NO!" I know it's him.

"You never called me," I hear him say.

I turn to look at him. He looks at me inquisitively.  He IS a good looking guy. . . 

"Oh, yeah. I just figured you had a bit to drink and your friends put you up to it. Ha ha," I laugh nervously. 

"I wasn't drunk. I remember everything. My friends didn't put me up to it. I stayed behind to give it to you. I came back to see what happened that you didn't call."

Take a dagger and put it right through my heart. 

We continued on with this awkward dance back and forth of why I didn't call and since I am a crap liar, the conversation is tanking. He gives me a playful hard time about my not calling and I tell him I have to scurry back to work.  This guy is persistent, and cute. . .even if I could have babysat for him. 

I sidebar with my colleagues. Thank God I work with some of my closest girlfriends! I express to them that I am not sure what to do, but I am now leaning towards acquiescing to his request. They agree he's too young, but why not. He did have the balls to give me his number and then RETURN to my place of work to give me a hard time about not calling him in a sweet and tactful way. I don't run into men my own age that do this. Shit. What the hell. I have a blog and I need to think about single dating women everywhere. I am their representative!

Later that night as he is getting ready to leave I decide to throw caution to the wind and scribble my number on my guest check pad. I casually place it in a check presenter with his check and a note that says "If you are serious about wanting to hang out, you can call me." I drop the check presenter on his table and run away, nearly afraid to see what happens. I guess he paid his check and left because less than a half hour later I get a text message that he got my number and wants to know when is good to get together. Wow. I'm impressed.

We text back and forth and decide to meet after both of our respective jobs one night at Poor Herbies for drinks. I arrive first and end up sitting at the bar with one of my regular patrons sharing the story of who I am meeting and how we met. He's having a heck of a time giggling at me as to how this event has occurred and is more excited than I am to see this guy show up!  When my Knight arrives, I excuse myself from my bar seat and move to a table in the dining room where he and I can talk privately.  

I sit down across from him. He stands a bit taller than me, and is reminiscent of a swimmer I dated when I was a Junior in college. He has bright blue eyes and if he doesn't have a Norse background, I'll kick myself. He is clearly WAY younger than I am. I feel very Mrs. Robinsonesque and am not sure that this is exciting good, or exciting like when you have the police pulling you over. Dang. 

He parks his Guinness across from my Pinot Grigio and we talk about work, the phone number passing debacle and what he's been up to. 

I am immediately at ease with him. Maybe it's that we have the hospitality job in common. Maybe it's because he's been so warm to me to this point; who knows. All I know is that we sit down and started talking and didn't stop for hours.  We spoke of his major, what he was looking to do with his degree and what made him choose the studies he did. 

He was returning to college for the second time and felt he now had the determination to do the best he could to be successful. He shared that he had made some big life decisions in the past year that led him to be living back home.  He was working towards his future and felt he was on a good path to accomplish his goals. I was continually impressed with his work ethic, determination and overall take on life. He was happy, friendly, polite, genuine and held a great conversation. He asked me about my work, travels, hobbies and my days with roller derby.  

Part of this filled me with panic. I was connecting more with this guy than I had with men my own age. We had the most in common of ANY of the dates I had been on. How was this possible? 

We were both in love with travel, humanitarian causes and boxing. We shared a love of wine, music and inappropriate jokes. Everything seemed great, but I was stuck on the age difference. He didn't care. Why did I so much? Should I? Hugh Hefner has probably never had this inner monologue. Why am I? This has been the best date I have been on so far. What do I make of this?

I chalk it up to a kid who just wanted to go out with Mrs. Robinson. I don't think he'll ask me out again. This was just a check box on the bucket list for him and well, it's been a lovely night  for me, so whatevs. 

We continue to talk right up until the bar gives last call. He realizes that the bar is packing it in and abruptly stops talking. I stop putting on my coat and ask if everything is ok. He smiles at me and tells me that he wanted to make sure that we were going to get together again.  For the first time in all this madness, I say "Yes" and actually mean it!