The Diplomat Knight
Anyway. . . This particular man who I will talk about had taken the time to author a note to me that extended beyond a sentence, was punctuated, and not in text speak. I thought that this, therefore, deserved my attention.
In his note to me he expressed that he was a diplomat, who had just recently wrapped up living abroad in Africa, and was heading back stateside to start the next chapter of his life in DC. You could tell that he had actually read my profile because he echoed a number of the sentiments I mentioned in it, and asked questions about my wants and life in general. I was impressed at the time that he had devoted to inquiring about me, and the fact that he actually seemed interested in my life, and meeting me. Perhaps he wasn't just looking to fill a Friday night? Thrilling!
I responded back asking him questions about his job, travels and hopes for returning to the US. I was impressed with his traveling, eloquence and work. Further captivating were his pictures which were a veritable montage that portrayed him as a worldly person, showing off his travels from the Far East to Russia.
Now, anyone who knows me knows that travel is my passion, and I find this to be a hot commodity when looking for a partner. If you are not willing to sling on a backpack, take a 17 hour plane flight, or experience the local souk, you need not apply. This man had been to well over 100 countries and apparently had no fear backpacking a third world country. Bonus!
His pictures indicated that he was a bit older; perhaps in his late 40s at best; totally OK. He appeared tall (plus), well dressed (another plus), and had very kind eyes (I'm a sucker for kind eyes). He seems to be fit and youthful looking (awesome!). I had been having 0 success with the last umpteen dates and thought perhaps I had found someone I could really connect with, so why not try to get to know this guy.
After a number of emails back and forth on the dating site, we exchanged numbers, and began to text and call. Texts were brief, and the phone calls usually were just a few minutes when one of us was heading in the car here or there, but we were making an attempt to connect when we could to get to know each other.
NOW. . . During this time, I got a wild hair up my ass, as I sometimes do, and decided that with the Giants season nearing a close, I MUST GET TO A GIANTS game. I don't know why the universe wanted me to go so badly, but I literally felt that if I didn't go to a Giants game ASAP, the world was definitely going to end on December 21st.
Being a loving family member and friend and hoping to spare my friends and the rest of the world the horror of the world ending I began to research tickets for a game. As fate would have it, the next game they had was to be played was in Maryland at the Redskins home stadium on a Monday night. PERFECT.
How serendipitous. Here I was, talking to a man that was in DC reconnecting for his next career path and the Giants, my favorite football team, were due to be right in his old stomping ground. I began to have hope maybe all this crumby dating had been for a reason!!
I checked out ticket prices, which were moderate compared to the over inflated prices back North, and rang him with my idea. How much fun would it be to have a first date at a football game! He was impressed with the idea, and never having been to a Redskins game at the new FedEx Stadium, he agreed that this was a great idea. I was elated. He was so excited, he thought that it might be best if instead of just driving down to see the game, why not spend a couple of days in DC so he could take me on a tour the city and really get to know each other.
I was hesitant. I am all for going to a game that ran potentially three hours, but more than one day? That seemed excessive. Hmmm. I rang Kristina who has been my sounding board for this whole dating endeavor. I spoke with her about my concerns. Some of these dates had me wanting to pull my hair out 30 minutes in. What was I going to do hanging out with some strange man for two days?
She was encouraging and made a good point. DC was a big place, and if it all went south I could always ditch him in a museum. I thought about what she said, realized the merit, and perhaps against that little voice inside of me, decided "what harm could a few days in DC be!"
I went online and found a hostel in DC close to the down town and booked a room at Diplomatic Stay for Sunday and Monday night. I then purchased two tickets to the Monday night game, and let the Knight know that we were a go to meet up when I got into town on Sunday. He was overjoyed that I was coming to DC, and I was thrilled, since my last visit to the capital was when I was in college.
The hostel I chose was apparently previously the home of the former President of the American Red Cross and was beautiful! I checked myself in to this palatial mansion, got my bunk squared away, and rang the Knight to let him know that I had officially made it to town and was ready to tour DC with him. We weren't sure where to meet up, since I wasn't familiar with the city or really any of the train or subway stations. He thought it was best if he came to pick me up.
I sat with nervous anticipation in the living room of the mansion. This had all the potential to be a great afternoon of touring and getting to know him, or it was going to be an epic journey of human torment. I was hoping for the former rather than the later.
When I got the call that he had arrived at my hostel I guess I thought he was walking or driving; who knows? Maybe I didn't give it a lot of thought. When I walked outside my building there was a cab parked there and a man getting out of it. Strange. I guess this was him.
He hailed me over to the cab and I hesitated across the street. Rule number one as a child. Don't get into the car with strangers. Well, this wasn't a car, and I guess he wasn't a stranger? I stood there for a minute debating the idea of getting into this cab with someone I didn't know. Isn't this how horror films start?
I think the movie The Bone Collector had been on the week before and maybe my gears were going. The reckless side of me said "fuck it". What are the chances that the driver and this diplomat are in cahoots? I crossed the street and he hugged me "hello". I said "hello" in return and he helped me into the cab. I waved hello to the driver, and he smiled warmly back at me. OK. Perhaps I am not going to be a head in a jar in this guy's fridge.
We were now being shuttled off to the subway station where we were going to take the subway into the city. I settled in for what was about a 10 minute ride and began speaking with the Knight. He talked to me as if we were old friends, having always known each other, and this was not the first meeting and first time face-to-face. He actually seemed more interested in talking to the driver about how bad the neighborhood we were heading through was, but I sloughed this off as perhaps just nervous banter and re would eventually redirect the conversation back to me.
As he was talking I was surveying him. He resembled the man in the pictures on his profile, but it was as if he had been photo shopped in his pics. My first thought was "this man resembles a not-so-handsome John Edwards". He was dressed in a red sweater, white tee shirt underneath, khaki pants, a brown suede jacket and really awful brown shoes you would see on someone in a homeless shelter. He dressed like an old man. Ugh.
As I looked at him closer, I noticed a few things that were just shockingly different than his photos. First: He had a HUGE pot belly that made it look like he was hiding a pillow under his sweater/shirt. As if this wasn't bad enough, his comb-over, that had been very well hidden in his pictures with various hunting, fishing and ski hats, began somewhere at the base of his skull and swirled his head full of grey hair forward in this bizarre bouffant that made Donald Trump's bouffant look moderate. Oh boy.
As he continued to talk and gesture I noticed he had INCREDIBLY small hands. Like Austin Powers Carney small hands, small. His finger nails were chewed down to the nubs and I was grossed out at the thought of the amount of time that this man must have his hands in his mouth. YUCK.
We arrived at the subway station and he had literally not stopped talking the ENTIRE TIME we were in the taxi. It wasn't a conversation, it was a running monologue that continued well into the subway station. OH MY GOD. HOW AM I GOING TO GET THROUGH THE NEXT TWO DAYS!
We exited the cab and walked into the subway station. He had a metro card but it didn't seem to work and I needed to buy one anyway. We walked over to the machine for the subway and he seemed confused by the purchase process. Instead of asking me what I thought, trying to figure it out or READING THE DIRECTIONS he immediately asked one of the attendants to come over and help him. OK so he seems like one of these guys who if he doesn't get it immediately he has to have someone do it for him. Great.
The attendant proceeds to tell him that he will first have to initiate the sale by putting, maybe it was $1.50 into the machine to tender the card. This threw him into a tizzy. $1.50 to just get the card going! This was preposterous! Why did he have to pay $1.50 to activate a card he was going to have to put money on anyway. He gets into this whole conversation with the attendant about how everything is so expensive these days and how everyone is always raking you over the coals for more money. I could have been taken away by a band of chimpanzees and he wouldn't have noticed. He is just on a diatribe about this card and the injustices of capitalism.
I decide to step in and say that I am happy to pay for the subway tickets. With my money and his attendant we FINALLY purchase our cards and get a move on. We board the train and his running monologue continues. He's going on and on about how he as 20K pounds of furniture in storage overseas and how expensive it is going to be to get it out, and how costly it will be to get his Mercedes C class from Iowa where it's been at his family's home. I pretend to care but I am already not sure how this is the same person I talked with on the phone. . .
We arrive at Union Station and decide to get lunch. I ask him where he would like to go, since he is the local, and he tells me that everything in Union Station is different since the last time he has been there. We have a wander and decide on Thunder Grill to have buffalo burgers and beers. Mind you, the only question he has asked me in this whole rant from my hostel is if I eat buffalo burgers. We walk inside and sit down. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and wash my hands. The whole way there and back I am trying to figure out what I am going to do about this game tomorrow. Being the perpetual optimist I am hopeful that this date will get better, but being a stark realist as well, I realize that I have zero chemistry with this guy and now he's just a warm body reimbursing me for a ticket.
I return to the table to find that he has asked the waitress to not only put on the Vikings football game, but has moved seats and positioned himself to watch the game. Great. Maybe this will cause him to stop talking or at least promote a conversation with some back and forth. We eat our burgers and he continues to tell me about his old job and how they owe him over $400K, his travels, yada yada yada.
The only information he is getting about me, is information I am offering up so there is some form of a conversation and not a lecture about him. He houses his burger and returns the first beer that he doesn't like for one that he finds more acceptable. I am still working on my burger and pretending to fain interest in what he is saying. I find myself watching the football game just so there is something to talk about outside of him. He then proceeds to order dessert while I am still working on my lunch. He works out on the piece of pecan pie, asks question number two for the day, "Do I want a bite?" I respond OK, accept to be polite and smile as I chew on this bittersweet dessert.
Lunch has now ended and we are only two hours into the day. He seems excited to be out and about in DC and I guess I am happy to have a tour guide? We wander up to the Capitol Building and he tells me about his previous work in DC. I ask questions about working for the government, what it's like living in DC and going to college there. I am trying to get some ping pong going in the conversation, but he just takes the question, answers it and moves on to talking about the next topic. This process has now become punctuated with the periodic stop to get a picture - of him. In front of the capital, in front of Union Station, every couple of feet. At one point he offered to take a picture of me, but instead of with my camera (which would have been cool) he takes it with his. I get a bit creeped out, and wonder what that picture will be used for later. I digress.
It's now rounding 5pm and he's not really sure what will be open at this hour. We head to the National Botanical Gardens and since I mention (unsolicited) that I love flowers, and we think that this is probably one of the only places still open we decide to go inside because it's free. We wander through the Christmas exhibit impressed by the beautiful displays of flowers, Santa's train and the holiday decorations. I feel some relief from the verbal battery, and though I am sweating like a whore in church under all my cold weather clothes in this terrarium, I am so happy that we are having a pleasant walk with lovely scenery. This, of course, is interrupted by the curator yelling that the place is closing, thank you for coming, and now it's time to go home. Dang. Now what.
We exit the botanical gardens, and as fate would have it, it begins to rain. This does not faze me. I am dressed for crumby weather since it is December. He, on the other hand, in his 1983 brown suede jacket is now panicked by the ensuing rain. He tells me that he's not sure that anything else is open now, and has no idea where to go, but we MUST get out of the rain to spare his coat. I look at him helpless for a suggestion. I thought we were going to tour the city. I thought he knew his way around. I thought perhaps he had a plan. NOPE.
We walk back to Union Station. He wants to duck into a video store and check out DVDs. I think I was up for anything at this point that didn't involve he and I having to have a conversation so I agreed and began to intently scour the DVD racks. Five impulse-buy DVDs later we were leaving with still no idea where to go. I tell him that perhaps now is a good time to begin to head back but he has a eureka and tells me that it's best to head to the Pentagon Mall. I think it's like the mall where the museums are so I agree.
We take the subway to get to this Pentagon Mall. I am excited to get to see something else cultural or artsy and make the most of this abysmal date. We get off the subway and I realize this is not a place of art and culture. It is just a mall. REALLY? I am from New Jersey, the land of malls. I hate shopping. Wow. Now what. As we wander the mall he dips off into stores that interest him and I felt like I am being dragged around. I decided to step away for a few minutes and call Kristina. He barely noticed I was gone.
"Oh my God! This date is tanking, " I tell her. She tells me to hang on and just get through today and then once I am done with this date, we can formulate what to do with this guy, his ticket and me. I agree, hang up and proceed to find him eight stores away.
I tell him that I am really in need of finding a bank, and perhaps we should venture outside the mall to try to find one. We do this only to realize that we were in Nowheresville, so to kill some more time he suggested that we wander through a kitchen and home goods store. REALLY? Could this get any worse?
The hi light of this part of the trip is that they were giving away free cups of espresso that I capitalized on because I was glazing over like a doughnut. I suggest that perhaps we grab a lite bite to eat since it was nearly 8.30pm and restaurants probably closed at 9. He tells me that he wasn't hungry, and I shared that with my blood sugar issues if we didn't eat something, I was destined to pass out. He acquiesces to my request.
We choose a Thai place to have dinner. I had already decided that this was the last stop on the crazy train for today. I could punctuate the end of the date by claiming I was exhausted, needed travel time to get back and would easily be able to make my departure back to my hostel WITHOUT HIM in tow if we left from this subway hub. All of this was mentally arranged in my head BEFORE we even ordered.
Thaiphoon, thank God, had a bar. I felt that I deserved a martini for the hell of a day I had endured. He ordered Plum wine. I internally scoffed at his choice feeling that plum wine was the white zinfandel of the Asian world. I feel that you should, as a bartender, be able to ask someone to leave your establishment if they order white zinfandel. It's grape juice with alcohol people!
Returning to my nightmare of a date. . .
We order a soup and an appetizer of dumplings to share since he's not hungry and I have a feeling it's going to be me picking up the tab. He continues to go on about himself and his life living in Africa. He shares how he had created the online dating site profile while he was there to try to find women back home to get to know better because he didn't want to "go local", as he called it, and because it was free, he had no problem keeping this account for years. . .Well that explained the pictures from twenty years ago!
He then proceeds to ask me if I knew about FGM. I know what it is, but I had no idea where this is going. I shared that I did, just to see where he's going with this. He then shares with me that after having "gone local", he decided this was not the best choice because his ego was bruised by these women when they didn't seem "satisfied" with his sexual prowess. He then shares that it must be the FGM because he's amazing in bed. REALLY? Is this conversation for dinner, let alone a first date? But he continued on.
He had made a list of all the expats in the area and then figured out who was single, to pursue his hit list of potential partners. OMG. Get me out of here! The night couldn't be over soon enough. How was I going to tackle another day with this guy? I had spent nearly $100 on a ticket; should I just eat the money? God damn it. The best laid plans. . .
I start to yawn and tell him that I am exhausted and that I really should begin to make the journey back to my hostel. He offers direction on which train to take back, but doesn't offer to accompany me to make sure that I get back safe through what he called a "bad neighborhood." Whatever. I am over it. I'll take a mugging over another hour with this guy.
He is still looking forward to the game and tells me that he is ready any time tomorrow AM to get our second day of touring the capital on. I am exhausted by the thought alone. I wonder if he even realizes that I have NO INTEREST in him.
The check comes and he stares at it with a "I paid for lunch and now it's your turn" stare. I pick up the check, pay for it, tip the waitress and we head for the door. At the subway station he is solidifying plans for when we are to meet tomorrow.I am nodding in agreement with everything and am literally backing away to try to run to the subway and get on the first car that comes in. I wave goodbye and plaster a fake smile on my face. As I sit down on the subway train I wonder how am I going to get through day two with this guy. . .
(To Be Continued in the Next Blog tomorrow!!!)
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