One night when I had very little to do, (this never happens) so I decided I would sack out and watch some crap TV. As I sailed through the channels, I came to Bravo, which I feel always has some offering of interesting lifestyle stories. (That was the most politically correct way I could phrase that.)
As I began to investigate the show I realized I recognized one of the women on the program. I couldn't quite place her face, but I recalled her as one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen when I was younger. I was now hooked. I wanted to find out what show this was and why she was on it.
As I listened intently, I gathered that she was 1. On Celebrity Rehab, 2. had some sort of addiction and 3. it had something to do with her crumby choices in men that she was so horribly amiss.
As I watched her story unfold she told a sorrowful tale of having it all; beauty, brains and fame, but never enjoying it all because of her addictions and her challenges with men.
"Jesus Christ," I thought! This woman had it all. She supposed to be the champion of single girls everywhere. Amber Smith, as she came to be, had been a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model, named one of the top 50 sexiest women in the world by Maxim Magazine, and made her mark on the world of film and TV with her fame before she was 25. Here she was broken and desperate to be someone else on a TV show for those who were so troubled with life. How could this have happened?
She told tales of terrible relationships that were doomed from the start, men who mistreated her and her ever depleting self esteem from all these experiences. All of this accounted for the fact that now that she was 36 was still desperate for love and trying to pull her life together.
All I could think to myself was "MY GOD. She's a beautiful woman, clearly bright, articulate, with the world at her feet, and she can't find a fulfilling relationship? WTF?"
The hope I had for my dating adventures was waning by the second. If this chick can't find love, well, there's no hope for me. I'm a mere mortal.
A wave of despair shot like lightening through my body as I laid there on there on the couch. It was like that moment when you realize that some day, you are going to die. I was nearly paralyzed with fear. This was not how I had intended to experience my Sunday night off.
Right around this moment my phone went off with a text message. I eyeballed the phone to see who was reaching out to me at this moment of despair. Had one of my amazing girlfriends felt a pang of heartache across the miles? Did they know that this was my moment of need and comforting? Nope. No such luck. As I looked at the phone I realized that it wasn't one of them. The name on the phone rang up "Terribly Tony."
Tony was a guy that had emailed me multiple times on the dating site. He had decent pictures, what seemed to be a stable 9 - 5 job in sales and an average description on his "About" section. I don't know what it was that caused me to stop texting back to Tony at some point. I think I just really wasn't feeling this dude. In addition there had been a number of other Knights around this time that were monopolizing my nights out. For whatever reason, after our few text messages and emails back and forth, I kind of dropped off the face of the Earth to this guy. And I was OK with this.
I give him credit for periodically text messaging me, and sticking with trying to see me, but truthfully, there must have been some reason why I wasn't responding to his messages. Just couldn't put my finger on it. . .
So here he was, texting me at my moment of weakness. I had saved him as "Terrible Tony" so I would alert myself to the fact that, hanging out with him, could, in fact, prove to be terrible.
"Hey, what are you up to?" Terrible Tony flashed on my text message.
I sat there for a minute. I couldn't tell him that I was sitting here on my uncomfortable couch, contemplating my single hood with a sense of horror and despair. That after watching a thirty minute reality TV show about my "Miss. I Wish I Was Her" had now plunged me head long into an emotional quandary of epic proportions.
"Nothing," was all I could muster. Lest I spare him from the truth.
"I was in the Morristown area and thought maybe you might want to meet up for a drink," he inquired.
My mind raced. Maybe this was just the distraction that I needed to get myself out of my own head and away from this God damned TV show.
"Sure," I responded, but not really sure why.
"Oh great," he replied, "Where would you like to grab a drink?"
"How about the Blackthorn?"
He said that he could be there in 20 minutes. I told him I would be there in 30.
As soon as everything was set and in place, I wondered why I had even agreed to this. I quickly dashed over to my computer to log onto the dating site to take a quick refresher course on this guy. I eyeballed the pictures and the profile. There was something just off about this dude I couldn't put my finger on. I just really wasn't into him: at all. Now what.
I thought about not going. My distraction now turned into this crumby sense of "let's get this over with." Crap. This was gonna be over before it even began. At least it was another date towards the 30 for the blog?
Great. Now my writing is determining who I go on dates with. Awesome.
I arrived at the Blackthorn at my estimated time. The bar was a total oasis. There were probably three people sitting there so I immediately recognized my Knight. He too immediately recognized me and stood up.
Now I was really sorry that I had agreed to this. I was stuck having to go through with this. Dang.
As he came over to introduce himself, I shook his hand. He and I then sat down at the bar where he was already drinking a Bud. The bartender came by to ask if I wanted a drink so I told him that I would take a glass of water.
The Knight looked like his pictures; blond haired with intense blue eyes. I thought perhaps it was just an intense blue in color, but now that I was up close and personal with this guy, they seemed to me more crazy than beautiful.
He was shorter than his stated height, but then again, that seems to be everyone on that stupid site. He was in a red plaid shirt, jeans and running sneakers.
"What the hell was it with the dudes on this site and red plaid shirts?" I thought to myself.
My Knight and I sat down and immediately it started. The Spanish Inquisition had now kicked off. Over the next five minutes this man asked me about twenty questions in rapid succession. I couldn't tell if he was nervous, or had a job as an interrogator he just couldn't check at the end of the day.
By question five I found myself lying because I really didn't want this guy knowing ANYTHING about me. In order to break the barrage of questions I figured I would ask him about his job. He then went into a whole diatribe about his work in sales for something like Amway, and began to inquire about my knowledge of vitamin supplements.
Huh? Was this a date or a sales pitch?
As he went on and on about he importance of supplements and how it had been life changing for him, I was now having a dialogue inside my head.
"Why am I sitting here, " I thought to myself. "The little voice inside you said that this guy wasn't someone worth meeting, and there you go, ignoring it YET AGAIN. Serves you right."
I was now pissed at myself. I had let my own fears of loneliness, worry and an apolacyptic, loveless existence get the best of me. Why? Because I had watched some stupid TV show.
I snapped back to reality to find my Knight still droning on about his workouts, supplement regime and who knows what else.
I think that he turned to ask me a question. Another question. . .
As if I had become possessed by someone with sense, words fell out of my mouth without really much thought.
"Hey, I'm exhausted from a long day and I thought that perhaps this was a good idea, but I don't really think that this is going to work." I began to stand up and get my handbag and coat together.
This was totally unlike me. I didn't provide any explanation. I didn't feel bad. I wasn't going to subject myself to another prolonged crumby date just because I felt it was the polite thing to do. Perhaps my supermodel idol had stuck with dates like this and that is exactly what had plummeted her into the place she was now.
I wasn't going to let that be me. I was going to put the kabash on this right out the gate. Part of me actually liked the way this felt and I loved how easily the words rolled off my tongue.
He looked a bit dazed and confused by the immediacy of my statement. I think that he was expecting me to answer another of his umpteenth questions. He definitely wasn't expecting this. He was sort of slack jawed sitting there starring at me.
"Um, Ok," he stammered.
"I'm going to be going now. Thanks for coming out. Good luck with everything."
I stood up and walked out the front door half wondering if I should be running to my car for fear of him chasing me down in angst and aggravation. Nope. No sign of him anywhere.
I then scoffed at myself and laughed for the egocentricity that it took to even think that.
There was a certain sense of peace and calm I felt I had ascertained walking out of that date. I had begun to have a sense of self, a sense of, "this isn't what I wanted, so why compromise." It was like in that very moment I had rediscovered me and everything was going to be OK.
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