The Knight of Convenience

I recently ran into a girl friend of mine from my youth while shopping at the local Trader Joe's. She and I knew each other from elementary school in West Orange where I grew up.  We had not seen each other in years, but she immediately recognized me, having been my friend on Facebook for some time now. It was delightful to see her.

We spoke of our families, our day off, my first dog, Shadow, who she remembered, and happened upon the topic of dating. She had been reading this very blog and being a single person out there in the fish bowl, shared a similar story of 'what you see is not necessarily what you get' with her dating experiences.  I remember saying to her that we had spent all this time on our educations, careers, traveling and enriching ourselves. For who? 

Was she single. Probably.

Neither of us had foreseen running into each other 25 years later, single, without children and with such low expectations for dating.  We looked great, but were exhausted from the "monotonous discomfort"- as my friend Steve so aptly put it.  We decided that we would meet for drinks to get together there after to catch up, and have a night out where you didn't feel like you were on an interview.  As I walked off I thought of one of the most recent dates I had been on. 

This particular suitor had sent me a message introducing himself in the usual way on the dating site. He had just happened upon my page, thought we had some things in common and he lived locally. He was hoping I would want to catch a drink to see if there was chemistry. This was his intro. 

Here's my new view of online dating in 2014.  There is no flirting. There is no flattery and complimentary alluring innuendo. Modern dating has turned into: Email (maybe a few) of solicitation, obligatory getting-to-know-you texting and then the date. There are usually no phone calls.  There is no hope for dinner out, or flowers like you would see in the movies for a first date. It's not all Richard Gere in Pretty Woman as we children of the 90's were hoping for.  Well not entirely. . . 

If dating were sex, it would be more like sex with a hooker.  Wham, bam, thank you ma'am is the speed with with which you virtually 'meet' and then voi' la; you're on a date. Interest in another person online seems to expire more quickly than milk, so it's get out there or be left in the dust. Modern dating is a Chuck Norris, daisy-cutter style of dating.  

Now having learned to conform to this new Chuck Norris approach to cutting to the chase of whether or not you wanted to go on a date, I now feel I have a black belt in this art form.  

I check out his profile page on the dating site before I respond. He looks attractive in his picture but I have now begun to pay more attention to what these guys write.  Sometimes what they are 'saying' in their profile let's on more than just the words they type. This will make more sense in later posts.

He has a few selfies of himself from the neck up and clothed.  Thank God. He gets the gold star for the day. 

He has a few pictures of places and events. OK, that's pretty standard. 

Is is a good looking, dark haired man, with matching well manicured facial hair and what seems to be a good sense of style. 

He lives in the area, is employed, has a list of similar interests and has a simple yet attractive 'about me' section. He shares his interests, what others think of him and what he's looking for in a partner. He writes in full sentences and uses punctuation.

I look to his age cringing in awful anticipation of the worst.  Ah ha! My fears of  once again plunging into the kiddie pool have been laid to rest.  He's older than me! No wonder he writes with punctuation!

He's in.

I agree via email to meet for this get together and ask him where he would like to go. We agree we will go out in Morristown later on in the week, and he sends on his phone number so we can set up places and times. 

I feel like I have done this 100 times in the last nine months. I'm sort of thread bare from this endeavor but I remain positive and hopeful???

The day that we were scheduled to meet, I end up not feeling well and canceling. I ask if I can get a mulligan and he politely agrees.  Later on that week when I am feeling better, I text him to see if we can try to connect again. I mean, I have to meet this man; he still uses full words, not just text speak. 

We agree that we will meet the following evening at a bar in Parsippany that is conveniently located for both of us. 

The night of our date I put on my usual 'date outfit', that consists of jeans and a cotton tee shirt , with a long jacket like sweater over it. I arrive at the restaurant that we agreed on and the server ushers me to a table. I sit there and let my eyes wander while I am waiting.  I've sort of spaced out when I notice in my peripheral vision someone approaching. I focus my attention on this figure next to me. Here he is.

His pictures online were pretty true to form. Here he was; a good looking, tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man. 

He said "hello" and then immediately popped himself into the seat across from me. 

The waitress then immediately came by to get his drink order.  He said something to the extent of "I'll have my usual."

He placed his order, sort of winking at the waitress in a kind of 'I'm a VIP here' sort of way. I guess that's his swagger?

"So this is where all the PoF dates come?", I thought to myself and sort of smirked.

I ordered a glass of Sauvignon blanc, and settled in. "I think we have a fellow veteran dater here folks," I thought to myself.  Cool. Maybe there will be a little more ping-pong in the conversation than the last date.

He asked me if I had ever been to this bar before. I explained how I had seen it built, but had never been here. He then divulged that he lived about 500 yards away and had walked here. 

"Convenient,"I thought to myself. Was this another guy just looking to hook up? I was now a little apprehensive of the evening. I mean, any bar you can drag your date's body from. . . 

I noticed that there were a number of TVs that were probably great to watch games on.  I mentioned this and we began to talk about sports teams that we liked.  I liked none of his.  He liked none of mine. I think that he may have actually scoffed and laughed at me when I mentioned I was a Giants fan. I couldn't be offended by this. They did suck so far this year. 

I explained to him how this year I had become more interested in the game of football and learning stats and plays. He looked at me as if I had begun speaking in tongues.  Had he never heard of a woman who loved football?

To make sure he understood what I meant, since for some reason he didn't seem clear, I began to talk about the games that I had seen the previous Sunday. I recalled some of the plays and all of a sudden it became Sports Center mash up here on our date.  He began to challenge my re-telling of the games I had watched and felt some of my re-cap was wrong. He argued that the plays and people I thought were successful were not correct accounts of the performances and dismissed progress for any of the teams that I was in favor of as happenstance or luck. 

This was resulting in an awkward silence. 

He was now ordering his second beer.  He had relaxed back in his chair, with one arm slung over the back of the hi back chair. His body language either read, "well this is over" or "Yeah, that's the way it is." Either way, I was not feeling the vibe. 

I figured to change from this heated subject to a more mellow topic, why not ask about his job. I segued to inquiring how he liked his work in the hopes of this getting us back to homeostasis. He began that it was a job, but he had been there for ages and well,  "it is what it is."

He seemed to have this over arching blasé attitude about everything from that point forward.  Now I was beginning to check out. I don't want to date someone who is unattached and blasé about his existence.  Nope.  This wasn't gonna cut it I was thinking as he then remarked. . .

"Do you work out at all?"

"Ouch," I responded. Jokingly.

"Well I couldn't tell," he responded.

Jeez.  I guess my season of pumpkin beer was doing more damage than I  thought.  I now felt like Kobe beef dangling across the table from him. 

He then ordered a third beer.  We had only been here for about an hour. I was now uncomfortable: Not at the drinking,  just talking to him.  I felt like he thought I was such an awful date that he was going to drink me away. He was looking around, for what, I had no idea. I had finished my glass of wine and thought it was my chance to make a dash for it. I would wait till he was done with THIS beer and then mention that I still had some work to do and had to get home. 

I wasn't going to waste any more of what could be a good night of conditioning my hair or re-arranging  my underwear drawer at home. 

We both suffered through the conversation during his third beer. If there was a camera there, you could have seen us both uncomfortably shifting in our seats.  I hadn't ordered another glass of wine so I could hopefully 'empty-drink pressure' my date into finishing his. We muddled through more mundane conversation about the traffic in the area and commutes to work.

I work from home during the day.This should give you an idea of how well the conversation was going.

I think that watching mold grow at this point would be more entertaining.  As soon as he finished his beer I noticed that he was going to hail the waitress over for another beer.

Hells to the NO. I am outta here.

I told him that I was really appreciative of his getting together for this mulligan date but since it was a school night, I best be getting a move on home.  He seemed more upset at the lack of opportunity for another beer than missing out on more time with me.  In fact, while I was standing up to leave, I think he was hailing the waitress for another drink.

It was A OK. There was zero chemistry and he was more in love with the curves of the beer glass than he would ever be with me.

The "Perfect" Knight

To say that this has been a successful endeavor so far would be like calling the war on drugs successful. 

I was beginning to wonder if perhaps by choosing a free dating site, was this what was hexing my dates. Perhaps segueing to a paid site like Match.com would get more Knights in "buying mode" if you will, and produce better affects. While I have been mulling over this idea, I decided maybe I had to be more proactive in my pursuits.

Maybe I was relying too much on the luck of the draw of the dating site, and I had to get out  in public and make myself known. Take initiative, if you will, and try more traditional modes of meeting men.

I have no shame in approaching someone and introducing myself. I guess it comes from the life mantra  I have of, "if you don't want to know me, I've come this long in my life without you. I will continue living without you hereafter."

I must say though, most of my great relationships have started with me introducing myself. Knowing now what I didn't know then, they probably would have NEVER approached me in public. Many mentioned well into our dating I appear unapproachable when with my friends, or that they didn't think that I would "go for" someone like them. This is all very odd to me. Why would they think that?

But using this research and developing based upon the past mistakes and newly acquired intelligence, I began to put myself out there as much as I could in real life; not just my virtual one. 

I have attended concerts, gone to night clubs and attended parties where I didn't really know anyone but the host or hostess. I even stumbled upon a singles mixer (actually I had no idea it was going on, I was just there having birthday drinks), joined day trips and taken a small engine classes to "put myself out there" in a traditional manner. It's gotten me what my father likes to call "gatz." (If you are Italian you will know the answer before I translate it for our non-Italian peoples.) Nothing. 

I was beginning to get concerned that perhaps I would not be able to do a blog with 30 dates, if there were not going to be 30 Knights. The pool that had been soliciting me, however unique and interesting they were, just weren't what I was looking for. 

I was reaching a new level of despondence with the blog.  As I sat at my local watering hole with a few friends, my mind wandered and I wondered why I was doing this blog. For whatever reason at this time, I happened to look across the bar and see a large gathering of what looked like co-workers getting together for a happy hour. I noticed one man in particular that seemed to be the center of the conversation of the group. He was laughing and smiling, and telling some story that had the whole group engaged. He was tall, well dressed, with nicely styled light brown hair and eyes that seemed to twinkle when he laughed.  He seemed to be fit, and employed, judging by the group he was with.  He also seemed older. Perhaps in his early or mid forties and I DID NOT SEE A WEDDING RING! 

I thought perhaps that the glass of Pinot Grigio I was having had gone to my head. From a distance, this man looked like opportunity knocking. I was not going to miss this opportunity! I pulled out one of my business cards, scribbled a note that read "If you would like to grab a drink at a later time, give me a call" on it, and proceeded to pull myself together.  Unlucky for me, because I was in all black, I looked like the rest of the waitstaff at the restaurant. Damn my all blacks!! Whatever. My business card clearly said that  I had a job outside of the world of waitressing so maybe this would help. 

But what about this crowd of people around him. . . If this didn't go well this could make me the laughing stock of the whole group. 

"Oh screw it," I thought. 

I had never seen these people before and would probably never see them again. 

I stood up, straightened myself out, took my hair out of its ponytail, did a flip and fluff and walked over to him. I tapped him on the shoulder. I looked straight at him and said "I am sorry to disturb you while you were with your friends. I just wanted to give you this," as I placed my business card in his hand.  I then proceeded to walk as if I was continuing to the ladies room where I shut the door, pushed my back up against it, (like he was somehow going to come in) and wondered to myself "what the hell did you just do?"

I shortly thereafter scurried out of the bathroom, making sure to hide myself as I returned to my seat across the room. I happened to glance at my unsuspecting victim and his cadre of people. They were huddled around him holding up my business card. My worst fear confirmed!!! Oh Christ. What have I done.  I was awaiting the prank phone calls asking for an Al Coholic or text messages with lewd pictures. I began to assume the worst. What have I done!

I decided it was a good time to make a break for it. This looked like it wasn't going down well, and maybe this was a mistake. Nothing like sneaking out the side door as you are publicly humiliated by the man that you thought was hotter than baked bread.

I slinked out the side door unnoticed, and that is when the text messages started.

"Who is this," someone from a strange number wrote.

Trying to make light of it, I decided I was going to play dumb. 

"I don't know. You're the person texting me," I responded.

The next text came as the ultimate surprise.  "Are you some sort of stalker?" he responded.

Oh man. This was going south at warp speed.  How can I salvage this?

"If you are texting the number that you received on the business card, as I believe you are, I am not some sort of stalker. I am a girl that was sitting at the bar and thought perhaps it would be nice to see if you wanted to get a drink. You were surrounded by your friends, and I didn't want to disturb you, so that's why I dropped the card and ran. Remember me?" 

"Were you the waitress," was the response I got back. 

Oh jeez.  

Clearly this man has had quite a bit to drink, but I guess being in all blacks, it was easy to assume I was the waitress. I think I could still salvage this. 

I authored the next text which was either going to make or break my situation. "Does this help?" I attached the most G rated, wholesome, above board picture I had of myself. 

"Yes, yes, yes!" Was the response I got back. 

Now here is the affect I am looking for from these men!

"I thought you were the waitress!" he proclaimed.

"Well that's OK," I thought. Then the next text rolled in. . ."And who would have thought such a beautiful woman would have given me her business card." 

Now we were getting somewhere folks.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Well," I responded, "I am heading home right now," as I scooped my belongings and ran out the door before he could see me. 

He asked if we could get together in the near future, and I told him I was game.  After all, I was pleased as punch that he was interested in meeting. 

We decided via a few texts that we would meet at the Famished Frog around 7pm for a drink or two. I put on a sweater dress, leggings and boots and bundled up to head out in the freezing weather.  I was excited. I recalled what he looked like, but I find that over time, even if it's a few days, I begin to get hazy on the specifics. I blame it on anything from the conga line of bar patrons at my night job, to glamorizing people to some extent. I hoped that he would be somewhere obvious, so that way I would be able to spot him easily. And there he was.

He was half into his pint of Yuengling when I arrived. He stood up to greet me.  He was more handsome than I had recalled. He had this smile that sparkled like a game show host when he greeted me "hello!"

He stood from the table dressed in a chunky sweater, jeans and black shoes. I thought to myself "what a snazzy dresser he was!"

I sat down across from him and just sat and stared for a minute. "Wow, this guy's even better looking than I remember!" I thought to myself.  I actually began to get nervous.

My ship has come in!

He remarked at how it was so odd how we "met", and that how he wasn't sure who I was so he was a bit pensive about our meeting. I told him that it was a little odd, but really, who wants to meet totally normal people. 

I ordered myself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and settled in for what I hoped was going to be a great chat. His first question, was the same as many of my dates.  "What type of business do you own," he asked.  I find that across the board, everyone wants to know what I do for work during the day since I profess to "work for myself." I often feel like this is some sort of qualifying question to make sure that they aren't going to have to pay for the date beyond drinks or something odd like that. Generally when I explain the work I do in marketing, you can nearly watch their faces awash with relief. 

I inquired about his work since he had mentioned he worked independently and had flexible hours as well. He was an investment banker and had been for nearly 20 years. I was now doing the math trying to figure out how old he was. 

He looked like my peer.  I would have said late 30's and probably bet money on it. He was fit, with a youthful face and a thick head of dark brown hair. However, the way he was talking, I could tell that he was older. That was totally cool with me. I'm not an ageist. 

He asked what I had been up to in the recent past, and I mentioned that I had been planning my birthday vacation to St. Lucia and the last trip was a girls night out in Atlantic City. He then asked me how old I was. Well, where this bothered me at the beginning of this Tour de Dates, now it was just old shoe. Besides, if they couldn't take the heat, better to get out of the kitchen now. 

"Thirty five," I responded, with near pride.

He then told me that I didn't look a day over 25 (points) and that he was 48. I nearly fell off my chair. This man looked AMAZING for near 50. 

I told him how great he looked and asked how he kept up this great shape. Turns out the guy was totally into yoga, biking, running and diving. Wow. This guy just gets better and better!

I asked him about his diving experiences, having had my fair share as well. I enjoyed listening to him talk about his adventures and felt quite comfortable talking with him since we seemed to have a number of hobbies in common. This may be the perfect knight!!

He mentioned that he had two children that were not yet teenagers, and how active they were with sports and activities.  I commented on how proud he must be of them and he shared that they were "great". However the next story was kind of off-putting. 

He shared that he had not felt well over the Christmas holiday and despite the fact that he had missed Christmas with his children, he had managed to rally to go skiing the following day. Hmmm. Didn't seem very fatherly of me, but maybe I was being super critical. 

We continued on with our conversation. He asked me questions about my work, and I about his. We talked about how we had both enjoyed living in Morristown, past trips we had taken and some of the things we were looking forward to come Spring.  We talked about how we love horror films, good wine and great food. He asked how my trip to AC had gone and I told him it was a brief girls night out, and how bizarre AC could be on a Sunday night.  He then launched into an odd story about his last trip to a casino in Pennsylvania. He shared that he and his buddies were three sheets to the wind and a group of girls came over and started to chat them up. Then he divulged that one of the women made her home on his lap and how he could tell she wasn't wearing any underwear while he was grinding on his leg. And that was the story.  Gross. Really? 

"But you were doing so well!" I thought to myself.  

Why ever would he want to tell me this story?  Well, maybe it was because in less than two hours he was now enjoying beer number five, that I had seen. Hmmm. 

I got up to use the rest room. I walked off assessing this date. It had started out so magical. What happened? Was I being critical? Had I just come to the point of dating fatigue? I was going to rally and give this the old college try to make sure I was to remain open minded.  

As I went to sit back down in my chair he commented on how "bootylicous" I was.  Really? Was I getting punked? Oh shit.  Here we go. 

Growing concerned about his drinking and potentially driving, I inquired if he had far to go. He divulged that he lived down the street and had walked. Phew. This segued to his next lot of stories that to save time I will entitle, "Times the Police Definitely Should Have Carted Me Away for Public Intoxication/Drunk Driving". There were roughly a half dozen of these. 

Now I am doing this weird running check sheet in my head. 

This near 50 year old man, acts like a boy on Spring break, parties like a Fraternity kid, has the self control of a toddler, who seems to be a self-centered crumby father and keeps referring to me a being bootylicious.  I think it's time to bow out gracefully and exit the first door, or window I can find. 

I then proceeded to do my patented "Oh my gosh, I'm so tired," while yawning. . .

He tells me he has had a great time, and we should do this again soon. I nod in silence. I tell him I am going to head out, and he tells me he is going to stay behind to have a "few more" and watch the games. Awesome. I am getting away scott free. 

I walk to my car fearing I have been judgmental and I don't like that. I tell myself that I am going to give this man another opportunity if he texts me and asks me out again.

The following day he texts me.  He asks me if I want to bring my bootylicous self by to his place one night this weekend to watch horror films and have a sleep over.  I don't even respond. Why have a sequel to this horrifying event.