The Knight That Almost Was

This is what I get for perusing men like shoes.

I came across the email of this almost-Knight in my inbox and should have listened to that little voice inside of me that said "you know that this isn't going to be what you think it is. The universe laughs at you regularly lady."

The picture was too perfect. And well, it sort of looked familiar. I couldn’t place it. Don’t blame me. I’m happy I can remember what I had for breakfast this morning.  Beyond that, part of my mental blockage is  I have met probably thousands of people. No really. Thousands of people.  Years of roller derby, traveling the world, being just generally outgoing and don’t forget the many, many conventions I have attended for a myriad of employers. Yes. I have probably met an entire stadium of people and well, I think that is a conservative estimate.

I imagine my wedding looking kind of like this.

One of the downfalls of this gregarious and outgoing lifestyle is you just are not sure where you met people or even sometimes, even who they are. I am self admittedly HORRID with remembering peoples names.

I can recall asking one of my best friends while we were working together one night if a man at a table nearby was some I had dated. 

Where that isn’t bad enough, I have often walked up to complete strangers and totally mistaken them for someone else.

Take case in point. My bestie and I are walking down the street.  From about a block away I see who I think is Mark Sanchez the Jet’s quarterback. I have met Mark on a number of occasions while living and working in Morristown and therefore don’t feel weird walking up and saying "hi". 

Not to miss this opportunity to say hello to my old acquaintance I shout out, “Hey Mark!” And begin feverishly waving hello. 

I am now shoved off the sidewalk by my friend. 

“What the hell was that for?” I cry out.

“That’s Chris Humphries you idiot.” 

Come on. From a distance, maybe??

"Well what was he doing with Kim Kardashian? I thought they were divorced?" I respond. 

She runs her hand down her face in aggravation.  "That wasn't Kim Kardashian either dear."

You catch my drift.

Staring at this profile I am intrigued by the picture, and the handle is a reference to Greek mythology which piques my interest. I think that his dark rugged looks and fresh face in what was a poor gym outfit was strangely attractive. 

I clicked on the email and it was short and direct. He said he had come across my profile and wanted to say hello. He inquired if I still lived in the Morristown area and if I would be interested in grabbing a drink. He signed the note "Rick".

He only had two pictures of himself. One of him in work out gear as the profile picture and one of him in what looked like a friend had taken a glamour shot. It looked like both pictures had been re touched, but these days, it's easy enough to re-touch your own photos so maybe it's just that he's an avid photo guy? I just kept looking at the two pictures. Was this the same guy in both shots. I couldn't tell. They looked like they were similar, but there was just something fishy about this.

I looked at his "stats". He was 34, worked in finance and described himself as someone into fitness and travel. In his pictures he looked Greek, I thought. His "about me" was brief, citing that he was new to the site, was happy to share info about himself with those who inquired, and interested in meeting someone to "date".

I wasn't sure that I wanted to meet this guy so much to potentially date, rather than to have a re-con mission to find out if this guy was who he really was in his pictures.

I just couldn't shake that the main profile picture looked so familiar.  . .

At this point of the blog I was on a dating bender. I figured if I just got through the last few dates that were rostered I could now be back to a normal life.  It's the way I likened feeling when I knew I was in the last 100 yards and close to the finish line. You can pass out once you are over the line, but you just have to motor to get to the end of it until then. I was severely dating fatigued at this point and just wanted this 30 date spree to be over.

I emailed him back to see if he was interested in meeting for a drink in Morristown. He offered to meet me at the Westin.

Um, I'm not too keen on meeting at hotels, but I had been there before for dinner, and he mentioned wanting to get a bite to eat. I was happy to have a tasty meal at the Blue Morel on the ground floor of the Westin so I agreed to meet that Sunday evening.

After sending emails back and forth, he had text me on and off on the days leading up to the meeting. Your typical hello, how was your day, sort of stuff.

All this while I am still wondering how I seem to know this man's picture. At one point he had asked me to send him a picture of myself so he had a reference for when we met. Whatever dude.

I sent the same picture I always send. Something from the neck up, smiling and looking wholesome. Generally in a cotton shirt and a casual hair do, cause, well that's the way I roll.

I then asked him to send me a picture of him. This is where it got interesting.  At first he sent the same picture that he had on his profile. I saved this into my pictures and then text it along to a friend to consult with someone more opt to knowing who this person might be. It was just seering my brain that I couldn't place why this picture looked so familiar.  

I figured I was still a few hours out from meeting this guy so why not call him out to NOT get Catfished again.

I told him that I had been in receipt of the last picture but did he have another one that he could send on.

Now a new phone number popped up in my text messages. This person however wasn't the same name of the Greek guy I had been talking to but "Rick" had now turned into "Ricardo" and the picture that was attached to this phone number only reminded me of one person:

Who the Christ was this picture of?? This wasn't my Greek God? This guy looked like his old, miniature, mariachi band uncle?? 

I'm not even joking.

The next picture that came a few minutes later from this new Ricardo email looked more like this:

Was this supposed to be the "moneyshot" that was going to cause me to say, "You're profile picture looks NOTHING AT ALL LIKE YOU and you have been LYING TO ME FROM THE START, but HELL YEAH, let's go out anyway?"

I was somewhere between horrified and perplexed.  I had sent on the original picture from the profile pic on the dating site to my friend and I hadn't heard back from her.

I pinged her via text again.

"Look who sent me some 'more recent' photos of himself!" I exclaimed and attached the new photos to the text.

What I got back made me laugh so hard I nearly peed my pants.

"Well, I didn't think you were going out with Zac Efron."she replied.

"What do you mean, 'you didn't think I was going out with Zach Efron'. Who the Christ is Zac Efron?????"

"You know, that guy from the movie The Lucky One? Haven't you seen it?" she inquired.

I guess I live in a vacuum?? Or maybe this is what happens when you don't watch schmaltzy chick flicks. I am part of like 8% of America that doesn't know who this person is. I must just know him from E television or from movie posters or promos and that's why he looked so darn familiar without me still having a clue who it was.

So I googled "Zach Ephron" and wa-la.  There emerged two of my "Knight's" pictures.

After my Knight that Almost Was had sent the second picture he asked why I had not responded.  "Did you not like the picture?"he asked.

I just can't. . . .

I couldn't tell if he thought or hoped I was blind and dumb. In any case. There was no date as scheduled a few hours later. I told him I wasn't able to go, and that perhaps we weren't a good fit after all. To this day he still sends me pictures of some man that looks like the man from Treasure Island who I can only assume is the real Ricardo.  I would really tell him to stop, but sometimes when I am having a crappy day, the thought that he thinks I'm a moron totally amuses me.

The "Catfish" Knight

catfish: A catfish is someone who pretends to be someone they're not using Facebook or other social media to create false identities, particularly to pursue deceptive online romances. - Urban dictionary

This date was at the infancy of my Knight endeavor. Keep in mind that at that point I was much more naive and really wanted to believe that what people wrote and portrayed about themselves was at least mostly true.  

Example: By this point I had to embraced that the height thing is just going to be a lie across the board 99% of the time. You live and learn, and wear flats.  

For a brief period when I first signed up for this online dating service I would sometimes click on their "Top Prospects" just to see if they, PoF, had actually picked people that I thought might be good partners.  More and more when I checked this link I was praying it was an algorithm rather than someone like Patty Stanger on the other side. If not, I had no idea how she was holding down a job, let alone famous for it. 

I sometimes marveled at the selection that these "Top Prospects" provided me. They seemed to be all over the map, but well, I was picking all over the map: dark haired middle aged Italian men, young brown haired military guys, tall red heads, older, shorter men. . .

Maybe the algorithm, in trying to provide me with a good selection of possible candidates, had too been confused by my recent selections. Even IT didn't know what I was looking for. 

I'm sure she would tell me my "picker was off".

With this in mind, I would sometimes, whilst it was a commercial break from one of my series, or on a lazy morning I would check to see who the great PoF Gods had picked for me.  I scrolled through profiles the way I scrolled through shoes while shopping online. I was fascinated with who the site had been chosen for me.  Each profile as different as a snowflake and consistently I was still confused as to why they were "My Top Prospects."

To give you an idea what I'm scrolling through, take a look at a professional  sports team roster.  Any major sport; It's kind of the same thing. What you see when you log on to this page is the beginning part of their "about me part" which should expand to a larger description, their picture, location and age. Just the facts and enough influence for you to make a "blink" decision.  The part where you had to fill out  your description in the "about me" part ranged from the very well written and complex novellas to those of a few words or just nothing at all. 

Clearly this tool wasn't working well for me. . .Or I thought. 

After reading stats for the first ten plus pages of my supposed All Star line up, I came across a profile of young man whose handle was just letters and numbers strung together with some reference to the military. Nothing fancy or like some of the "lookingfortheone,"  "hotforyou" or "onesexyLatinman"I had been seeing. 

Look men. You feel  you are pressured! Sheesh. Don't you wanna stop when you see a self-described "sexy latin man".  Yeah, no.  Me neither.

I'm sure this same shot has been used 1,000 times in Pof profiles.

This profile I had stumbled upon was pretty average.  He lived in the vicinity, was 28, 6' and had a picture himself. Clothed, I may add.  It was of him smiling while taking his own picture from over his head (as opposed to the gratuitous in mirror, naked from the waist up, in a towel shots you see so often on here). 

The picture of him was taken the same way you would a selfie you were going to send to a friend or family member said, "sweet" instead of creepy. 

I clicked on the profile. His job that was listed as military and you could see that there was a crew cut and the stereotypical white wife beater you see so many military men wearing in their pictures on here. He had listed that he had been serving his country, and went into a bit of detail about it,  had recently returned and was brief in his description of himself. Under his relationship status he had interested in "dating".

Hmmm. 

Couldn't really glean much from the profile. He was a man who was proud to have served his country, seemed like he was relatively happy from his pictures posted and was pretty attractive.  Hey what the hell. Maybe for once this Top Prospect thing has the right idea. 

On a lark I decided I would send him a brief message. Nothing too crazy.  Maybe just a quick note so he knew I had seen him and was interested. I authored a brief note and thanked him for his service. I had put at the end that if he was interested in reaching out, to feel welcome to. 

I logged off then for the night and finished watching The Walking Dead. 

I think I logged on the next morning wondering if there was going to be a response. I felt like I was waiting to get picked for dodgeball. That same excited and sick anticipation you feel when you're not sure someone else's decision is going to determine if you are going to feel it in the head or the gut.

There was and email!!

I clicked on the message. 

He responded that he appreciated the recognition of his service and it seemed we had some things in common. He asked small talk questions about my weekend, and thanked me for reaching out.  He seemed remotely interested. 

We emailed back and forth and then text messaged leading up to our meeting. We decided that the following Sunday evening would work for everyone. 

That Sunday I finished dinner with my folks and dashed off mumbling something about getting ready for a date with "some military dude from that online thing", which I'm sure left them both perplexed and wondering why I couldn't just meet a nice man at church. 

I dashed home and threw on a white cotton long sleeved tee shirt I had gotten from a friend, a pair of jeans and a short pair of boots. We had decided to meet at the Blackthorn around 7.30.  I arrived at just about 7.25 and proceeded to the bar area. I walked around I surveyed the landscape: there were probably 10 people sitting at the bar. A couple that were retired. Nope. Not him. An older Asian man. Nope. Two girls in their late 20s. Nope. One guy with a wild head of hair hunched over his phone. Hmmmm. Nah. Prob not him. Four guys in their early 20s talking loudly watching some game on TV. OH, HELL NO. (In my best Anna Maria voice.)

Was the older Asian man posing as a young blond haired, blued eyed American kid online? Um, not likely??

Was it one of the dudes in the group. NOOOOO. This guy wouldn't have invited me to bro-out with him somewhere right? I hoped not.  I studied this group of boys. No one glanced at me, and none of them looked like they were expecting anything but their team to win, let alone awaiting a date. 

"This guy?" I thought to myself as I turned to look at the man with the crazy hair hunched over his cell phone.  

I turned and took a long hard, "I'm trying not to be creepy," look at him.  

Hmm. He was tall, probably over six foot. Check. He was wearing jeans and a large cotton tee shirt. That's not helping. Not like I had expected him to wear a wife beater to the date. . . 

Since he was so engaged with his phone I decided to text my Knight. I sent that I was here and where should I look for him.  I then saw the guy in front of me start typing. 

OK. Bingo. 

I walked over to him and identified myself.  As he looked up to greet me, yep, it was him. 

The picture he had posted online was clearly not recent. His once cropped hair was now this full, thick head of wild hair. It wasn't crazy as in, "I look like Jack Nicholson from One Flew Over the Cookoos Nest" crazy, but more like Russell Brand's controlled crazy.  

Surprise!

It must be said that the bushy head of hair fit his face and he was pulling it off in a rock star sort of way. I noticed that he also had gauges in his ears, and visible tattoos all over his arms. Not as straight laced as I thought he was gonna be after all.

I was trying to recall how much of what I saw in the picture. Maybe those towel dudes are posing that way so you know what you are expecting when you see them for the first time.  That must be it. 

I guess one of those pictures would have helped right around now. 

I parked myself in the seat across from him.

I couldn't help but study him. I wanted to see what else I missed or what else was in congruent with what my pre-conceived notion of who I was meeting. 

I studied his tattoos. He was a Boston fan, he seemed to like Phish and a saying tattooed on him that I would reference later if everything was going south with the date. I had options and that was what mattered. He already had a Heineken in front of him so I ordered a Strongbow. 

At this point I couldn't tell who looked more nervous. I was realizing that the shirt I was wearing was a hand me down and never been worn. As I sat down, my boobs all of a sudden became way more exposed than I expected.  I was beginning to look like a Russ Meyer movie.  Shit.  I was now trying to yank  my shirt further towards my neck while trying look like I was ready to engage in a conversation. This continual process was near exhausting and I finally gave up thinking, "awesome. I'm leading with my boobs now." 

I looked up at him.  He wasn't staring at my boobs. He kind-of looked like he was staring at me waiting for me to speak.  As I looked at him I thought how his eyes looked like the inside of blueberries.  He looked a bit tense but had a sweet face. He was a little scruffy but you could tell that it was the same person from the picture. He looked like perhaps it had been about a year or so ago. We made small talk about how it had been a long week.  He had been working all weekend and I had too so we both were a bit flat I think. 

He mentioned being kind of nervous and I told him what an easy person I was to talk to. I giggled at the fact that I made him nervous and he seemed to relax a bit.  In order to make the conversation go towards something that made him comfortable I asked him about his service. I got the 30-thousand foot view of what he did and for who where, but after the basics, he told me that he didn't want to talk about it any more. 

I didn't understand. He had made his service such a big part of his profile and now didn't want to talk about it.  OK. I have no idea what people in a war go through, and I am no one to judge, it just really threw me for a loop.  

"Quick," I thought.  "Ask about the tattoos!" Tattoos are a saving grace on a date that is tanking. Ask about some one's tattoos and you're buying at least 3 min talk time per tattoo.  As he got to telling me about the ones we could see, you could see him start to relax more and more. He was kind of giving me a lesson in his history and it was interesting to listen to.  We then talked about music, concerts we had been to, traveling we had done or not done and how we liked what we did for work.  

Sorry. Wanted an excuse to have David Beckham in the blog.

I thought the conversation was finally going well. Nearly as quickly as it started to get good, he looked at his phone and declared that he had to wake up early, had had a long day and probably should head home. He had just finished his Heineken and I still had just a few sips of my beer left.  

Oh. OK. 

Guess it wasn't going well after all. 

Um, OK. "Sure," I said. "It's been a long day for me as well."

Well that was unexpected. I looked at my watch. It was nearly exactly an hour to the minute. 

I guess my hour was up?? I felt like I had been part of some private speed dating. 

He picked up the tab for us and said he had had a good time and we should do it again.

That is such a standard end of date answer I really had no idea if he was being honest or just felt it obligatory to say so. I was confused.

We walked outside and I think I teased him about his Patriots hat. We both wished each other well goodbye and promised to text to let the other know we got home safe. 

I wasn't expecting a text. I had absolutely no idea what to make of this date. He wasn't who I expected, but I was kind of happy with who it turned out to be. 

Surprisingly after I sent a text that I was home safely, I received a text back from him saying that he had a good time and hoped that he could see me the following week. 

Well, I figured, what the hell. I wanted to try to figure out who this mystery person really was so here was another opportunity to see!