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!

The Persistent Knight

I was going to post a blog about another date that I had recently but this date was definitely material that I had to get on paper ASAP. If you have been following the blog, you will recall that I mentioned that there was a Persistent Knight. The following date recap is the date I had with him.  The back story needs to be shared so you can better appreciate exactly why this was just  way too much. Let's start at the beginning if you will.

This Knight had started emailing within the first two weeks I was on the dating site. He would send messages without punctuation, that were running monologues guised as an introduction. 

"i want to take you out and show you what a great date i can be and treat you like a queen and go to dinner and have the best time ever because you are a beautiful girl and i know you will like me and i will like you and we will be happy on our date. . . ." You get the picture. It was frustrating to read, but who am to be dusgrammatòfòbic and not give someone who may be a great person with bad grammar a chance. 

Since they all looked pretty much like the message above, part of me wanted to meet this man that had no regard for the English language.  I send him an email agreeing to meet and have dinner as he has requested. He immediately emailed me back. He wanted to make sure I knew that he was going to take me on the greatest date ever and that I was going to have the time of my life.

I live by the motto - "Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Since this gentleman was seemingly doing just that, who would want to turn down the best date they ever had in their life. Not me! It's been a tough go with the first 9 dates and well, maybe 10 is a magic number. 

I proceeded to give him my phone number so he can text me. This began the texting leading up to the date. In the beginning he would text in the morning to ask how my day was.  Sweet.  

He would text on a Friday to see how my weekend was. That’s lovely.  

He text me to ask how my Thanksgiving was. All very nice. 

As the date drew nearer, the texts were more often and sometimes rambling.  A few were confirming I still wanted to go on the date with him. Where should we go? What time? All normal texting back and forth between two people setting up an evening out.  

During this time he had called twice and both times I was either driving or in the middle of work. I hadn’t really gotten to talk to him either time because I wasn’t well equipped to talk, but he didn’t seem to mind. To be polite I answered a few questions, talked briefly and then reminded him that I was at work, driving or working heavy machinery and I should probably focus on what I was doing. 

A few days before the date was when the text messages started getting odd.  He asked what I did at night.  (I think that some of these guys must think I am a hooker. Not sure if that's what they are looking or or not). 

I explained to him that I bar tend at night. This resulted in a eight bubble long stream of text messages from him about how he always ends up with bartenders and how much he likes his martinis. Hmmm.  Some people overshare. Maybe he's an avid typist. . .I text that I will call him later. 

Shortly there after he texts again about how he’s excited about the date. I think I sent I was too with a smiley face.  The following day the daily text has a concerned tone. He’s ready to meet; am I still sure I still want to.  He tells me it's cool if I don’t want to, but can I call him to talk about it.  I call him and re assure him that I am still willing to meet.  He suggests we meet in Sayreville, which according to him, is halfway between Morristown and where he is from.  Visiting Sayreville is not in my plan this week. I suggest Jersey City. He says why not the Grasshopper in Morristown.  Odd that he chose this as our place for the date of a lifetime, but he explains that his buddies had been there before and recommended it for the Irish food. I agree that it is a great spot and we have decided to meet at 7:30 on a Monday night.

I get a text from him at 7:15 asking if I am at the Hopper yet. I send back that I am “nearly” there.  I arrive at 7:26pm and park my car in the lot next to the restaurant.  I end up having to park at a meter and realize I have no quarters. Not only am I quarter less but the meter will run till 12pm and it's not even 8.  Faaaa.  

I shove some dimes in the damn machine and make a mental note that I will have to get quarters at the bar soonish. I have a eureka. If this all goes to shit, I can say I forgot to put quarters in my meter and bolt.  OK, emergency parachute ready. I haven’t arranged for an emergency call tonight but feel since the Hopper has always been my extended living room, I should be able to get out of any not so great situation pretty easily. I gather myself and focus on the possibility that this could be the best date of my life, take a deep breath, and head towards the restaurant.   

I enter the front door and I immediately see my date at the bar. He is a good looking man. He has black hair with a bit of salt and pepper hi light. He has great steel blue eyes.  He stands a little bit taller than I am in my heels and is dressed in nice jeans, a buttondown, leather jacket and scarf.  He looks incredibly inviting and smiles warmly at me.  I felt a bit more relaxed by the warm reception.  He says, “Chris?,” and I greet him with a "hello". 

Here’s where I make the first mistake.

I see he has a beer sitting on the bar. I tell him to hang at the bar for a minute while I get some quarters from the bartender and go out and put them in my meter. I let him know that all the meters are till 12am (in case he didn’t know), and ask him if he needs any quarters for his car. He tells me he's not going to bother, so I proceed to tell him I will be right back. 

Now, any reasonable person knowing what I know NOW would have just left. I am the unsuspecting victim in this. 

I put two quarters in the meter only to find out that it's eaten the first and is specific meter is only a 30 minute meter. I should have stopped what I was doing and just got in my car and left when it only allowed for 30 minutes.  It was a sign from the universe. Did I acknowledge it?  NOPE. I move the car to a meter where they are till midnight. I foolishly feed the meter till midnight and hope for the best. He's cordial, nice looking and smiles a whole lot. This could go well!

When I return to the bar he magically has produced a flower in a plastic wrapping. He hands it to me and tells me he "wanted to see me first to see if I was worth it." 

"Glad I made the cut?" I think to myself as I try to maintain a smile. I thank him and tell him it was a lovely gesture. I ask if he wants to sit upstairs where we can hear each other better. He agrees and we make small talk while we are waiting to be seated. He is complimentary and keeps telling me I look better than my pictures. I say thank you each time, feeling no less embarrassed.  

Immediately when we sit down he starts in with one of what will be the three key phrases this evening. 

1.  "I didn't know what to make of you."

2.  "Ask me anything, I am the most honest person you will ever meet."

3.  "So we are going to go out again, right?"

Keep these in mind, like when you watch Pulp Fiction knowing that each scene either has food, religion or bathrooms. Pepper this through the following coverage of the conversation roughly every eight minutes, or till you want to scream. Then you will really feel how painful this was.

What? You never heard this theory before?

**If you are hard up for a parlor game this weekend, you can turn this into a drinking game. Every time I reference phrase 1, 2 or 3, you get to drink. . . I hope you have no where to be.**

Hey man, we got a new game! Bring  your 'puter!

We sit down and the waitress comes to get our drink order. He orders a vodka martini and I get a glass of Pinot Grigio.  (2) I ask him to tell me about his work. (2) He tells me he has been in construction for some time and he enjoys it.  (1) He tells me that he wasn't sure what I was going to be like from my pictures because they were all different. (1) He wasn't sure if I was really who I was in my profile. (1) He asks me how I think the date is going. (1)(2) 

I feel like I am on a date with Joe Gorga. He has a thick Hudson county accent and all the hallmarks of the Vinnie Gombatz that I have successfully evaded all these years. Yet here I sit. Lucky me.

"When I was 20 I would have made my way through this whole bar to get with you"

During our conversation he has been perched on the edge of his seat and it makes me a bit nervous. At points when he talks I wonder if he is going to leap right off the seat and tackle me. (2) He keeps asking me to ask him questions. I go through all the usual: Where did you go to school? Have you always lived in NJ? What do you enjoy most about your job? What do you do with your spare time? What hobbies do you have? Where do you enjoy vacationing? (2) The list goes on and on and I am running out of questions. With each pause in the conversation he asks if I am having a good time, if I am what he hoped for and (3).  I feel like I should throw in a different answer other than "yes" just to mix it up and see if he's paying attention. 

He now tells me that he wants to know everything about me.

"Tell me about yourself because. . . "(1) he would really like to take me out again if I meet his expectations. He asks if I have ever been married (1). I tell him "they keep asking, I keep saying no" to be funny.  He seems to get a bit upset. He wants to know if I am dating anyone and what is wrong with me that no one else is if I am not, in fact, dating someone else. (3) REALLY? Can't I ask the same of him?

I explain I have just gotten back into the dating thing recently and yes, I am dating, but there is not one person that I am involved with. I am just seeing what is out there and how it goes. 

This does not seem acceptable to him. He doesn't like girls that date around and that is not what he is looking for. I explain that I am happy dating and if he doesn't like it, I guess I'm not the girl for him.  Hoping that this comment will wrap up the date, I begin to look for the waitress to bring the check. She comes by and he orders another martini and me another glass of wine. Dang! He was unfazed by the comment AND I am still here. 

He now starts in with what will now be the fourth running theme of the date:  "If we were together."

If we were together and:

- I wanted to get married

- I wanted to have kids

- I wanted to go salsa dancing

- I was being hit on by another man

- he was approached by another woman

- I wasn't sure what squash to buy

And the list goes on.

I think that he covered each and every scenario where we could be dating on a Tuesday afternoon or  through a life altering event. He also has an answer as to what he would do in each and every scenario. In turn, he asks what I would do. This is bizarre. I am just at a loss for responses and this doesn't make him happy. I explain to him that I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants" sort of girl, and I don't make long running  expectations or commitments sometimes because life always has a way of changing things and laughing at us. 

He is still baffled by this. 

"So if we were together a year from now, and I wanted to have a kid with you, (I'd give you a kid, he says) you don't know if that is something that you want to do?" he asks.

I reply the same answer that I tell EVERYONE.

 "I have never thought long and hard about kids because I don't think you go into a Benz dealership with $5 in your pocket," I reply. 

"It's great to dream big but when you are grounded in reality, you see things for what they are. Applying the same principal; I have not yet been with a person that I would want to have a child with and therefore I have not thought about having kids." 

What I really want to close with is -  "And if you think that we would ever have a kid together your ludacris," but I refrain.

Bada-bing, bada-boom

He then states that if I'm not sure about having a kid "at my age, you might as well give up on the idea all together."  

"What?" he replies. "You're gonna wanna be chasing a 15 year old at 50? Even if we got together and had a kid within the next year it still doesn't make any sense."

I had her just last month.

I am now livid. I am trying my best to not appear as angry as I am. I'm charming, I'm charming, I'm charming, I keep repeating to myself. It's very difficult, however, to live this mantra  when I think that this is the most insane thing I have ever heard.  

Yep ladies, if you are over 30 you should just pack up your reproductive organs and call it quits. Clearly this man knows everything and according to him we will be too busted in the next 15 years to chase your little ones so just forget having a kid and get a fish instead. 

Yeah, don't even bother.

I have to take a moment. I know I said I may not want to have a family but I have a great disdain for those who tell me how I should live. Between the aggressive questioning, the bizarre situational "what if's" and now the baby bashing talk I've nearly had it. I want this date to be over. 

He is unfazed entirely. He has not registered my demeanor chaninging or perhaps he doesn't even care. I now begin to pull out my phone to look at the time. I rub my eyes and yawn a bit. He orders a 3rd martini. JESUS! I just wanna go!

I tell him that it is a work night, nearly 10pm and I turn into a pumpkin if I am not home by 10:30.  I am trying my best to just get the hell out of this seat. He keeps asking me if we will go out again.(2) He's asking for dates of when I am free and wants to take me to NYC and salsa dancing. Super, great, wonderful. Can the waitress please bring the fucking check! It's the end of the night and I think she can feel me burning holes in the back of her shirt. The waitress comes over and politely drops off the check. 

I offer to pay for my portion of the meal and he says he has it. I offer to leave the tip. He says not to worry about this. I can pay for the trip to NYC. Yeah buddy.  You betcha.

I think I am in the clear because we are now getting up from the table and making progress towards the front door. He walks me out the door and makes me promise for the umpteenth time that I will go on a second date with him. I would have sworn to ANYTHING at that point just to go home. 

He then attempts to kiss me. I give him the cheek.  

This upsets him yet again. 

"I can't get a kiss goodnight?" he asks, shocked. 

There is a better chance of me waking up tomorrow a large, gay, black man. 

I tell him I am old fashioned and besides, I have to give him something to look forward to with the next date. He doesn't let it go and brings up conversations (1) and (2) and then tells me he is holding me to a second date. He wants me to re assure him, yet again that I have had a good time, I like him and we're going on a second date; so I do. I thank him for a lovely night out and head to my car. 

I get home and shortly there after a hailstorm of texts rain down on me.  

For anyone who thinks I am being picky or too cranky, choosy, whatever. Here are the messages received post apocalyptic date:

My reply to this text message massacre was "I am sleeping," which I was.

Later in the day, I sent him a text saying that I had a great date, and thought he was a great guy but I just didn't' think that we were compatible. (Thank you Meaghan S for the suggestion.) I wished him the best of luck in his search to find someone that would be wonderful to him. Warm regards, C

The text I got back asked me what was not compatible about our personalities. He also wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to tell anyone so his reputation would remain intact. I just made like I never saw the message and deleted it. I'll be avoiding Hudson county for some time now.