The Knight of Years Past

You know how sometimes you get a phone call or text that is unexpected and out of the blue from someone you haven't seen in a long while. . .

Perhaps you had worked together in the past, or maybe you had just known each other as friends of friends.  Then, out of no where, that person reaches out to you and you are happy to hear from them because you had a positive experience with them, and enjoyed their company.

This is exactly what happened to me.

I was knee deep into my dating experiences. I had enjoyed (?) a conga line of Knights but was fairly thread bare from doing the 'what do you do for work,' and  'what are your hobbies' convo. I had decided for a short break from dating so that I could re-focus on some of my relationships with friends I had not seen in a while due to this Death March of dating.   I longed for a break from the getting to know you conversation and having to try to muddle through a challenging evening that was otherwise not working out.

Nearly as soon as I had wished for it, wa-la, I got a text from someone from my past.  He and I had worked together nearly a decade ago, and I had always thought of him fondly as a good friend, and generally all-around good person.

His text warm and friendly as he had always been.  It was a "Hey you! How you doin?!?"

I happily returned a text of "hey, what's up man!"

He was always such a great guy. . .it was such a pleasure to hear from him!

I had been at his wedding, we shared mutual friends, and I thought that this was a call to report in about a new job or some other of wildly successful occasion that he was reaching out to share. He asked if we could meet up for a drink and I agreed.  This man had a great life, great wife and a beautiful new baby from what I had heard from friends.  I wanted to hear all about his successes. I looked forward to meeting for a drink.

We decided to grab a drink at the Shannon Rose on a Tuesday evening.  I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater, wrapped my hair up into a bun and slid into my Converse sneakers.  I felt that this was proper friend attire.  Generally in the past we had met for lunch, but I imagined he had a full plate these days, and a quick drink after work was probably all he could fit in.

I headed down to the Shannon Rose and parked myself at the bar. I ordered up a Strongbow and patiently awaited my friend's arrival.

A few minutes after my arrival, he blew into the restaurant.  He looked a bit harried, with a phone to his ear and struggling to loosen his tie while walking towards the bar.

He saw me from a few feet away, smiled, waved, pointed to his phone and put up the 'just one minute' finger. I smiled back and nodded in agreement.

He had barely aged. He looked like the same 20 year old kid I had known way back when.  He was sharply dressed in a blue pinstripe suit, white shirt and navy tie. He had always been very fashion forward, and I recalled busting his balls about his keen fashion sense when we would see each other.

'Still a great dresser,' I thought to myself.

He hung up his call and then dashed over to join me at one of the only empty seats left at the bar. He gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.  He grabbed me by the shoulders and held me back to take a look at me.

"My God, you don't age do you?" he proclaimed.

"And this coming from a man who doesn't seem to age either!" I responded.

"How the hell have you been?"he asked,  "You look great!"

"Well I find that the Diet Coke and vodka have been the key to preserving my youthful glow," I giggled.

I hailed the bartender over for him and he ordered a Heineken Light.

He made fun of his own order. "You know we're aging when we can't have the regular beer anymore and light is the only option that doesn't make you all gross the following day."

I smiled warmly and toasted a cheers to old friends getting together.

"Seriously though," he asked. "How's life treating you?"

"Awe. I can't complain. Work is good, been traveling a ton over the last few years and well, no matter how far I move away. I just keep coming back to Jersey."

He shared that through mutual friends that he had heard about my travels and moving over seas from time to time.

We talked about where we used to work together, and shared stories of the fun we had had at happy hours and past occasions together.  He inquired as to how my ex was, having heard that we were no longer together.  I shared that he was now married, and doing well as far as I knew.  We ordered a second beer and some light bites to eat.

He asked if I had ever gotten married. To try to make light of the situation I shared that in my 20s all the wrong ones "kept asking and I kept saying 'no', and now into my 30s, no one seemed to be asking anymore."

Just slow your row there mister. . .

This made him laugh.  He asked if anyone new was in the picture, and I told him that I had had zero success on the dating front to this point.

I guess he could kind of read my disappointment with my perpetual single-hood and seemed to switch gears with the conversation.  I appreciated this.

"Still throwing 'bows?" he asked as he gestured with his elbows poking me in the side. He shared that he had seen me in the newspaper for roller derby a number of times, and had wanted to come and see me play.

"Ah, well it was a good run," I shared. "I am retired now. Got tired of the politics, and my body got tired of the regular beatings. It was lovely while it lasted, but retirement has been good to me."

"Well you look no worse for the wear," he shared.  "I had always thought you had a great figure."  This made me a bit uncomfortable coming from a married man. . .wasn't like him to come off as creepy. Odd.

"Looks like you have been staying fit," I mentioned pointing at him. "Chasing the babe is keeping you in shape I imagine? Still playing hockey?"

"Well," he began. "I barely have time for anything other than work and my kid. They moved me up in the company and I have had an insane schedule for the past three years. It's nuts."

"Oh man," I began. "You're wife must miss you terribly.  How is she? She is such a great woman! Is she still working for the same company?"

His demeanor changed. He shifted in his seat a bit.

"You didn't hear I guess. . ." He seemed confused.

"I didn't hear what?" I asked. Oh God, what had happened to his wife.

"She and I divorced about 18 months ago," he began.  "I don't know. I guess we just grew apart.  I was never around, she changed after we had the baby, and I guess it just fell apart from there."

"Oh, geez. I am so sorry," I said, feeling awful. I really didn't mean to bring up a painful situation for him. How could I have not known. I can't recall any of our mutual friends mentioning this to me.  Based upon the time frame, I must have been living in Australia at the time of his split.  I guess everyone figured that I knew??

"Oh don't be sorry," he continued.  She's getting re-married and he's actually a really good guy.  No bad feelings between us, we just grew apart.  It happens some times,  I guess.  I really thought you knew. . ."

Call me naive.  I had no idea.

To try to switch gears to make HIM feel less awkward, I asked about his kid. He was overjoyed to share stories about his child, and he pulled out his phone to show me pictures.  A LOT of pictures. He told me that every waking moment that he had available was spent with his child.  He spoke of his home now looking like a Toys'R'Us, and how his fridge was stocked full of kid snacks.  His idea of a great weekend was taking his child to Chuck E Cheese, and then to the zoo or the park, and crashing at 8pm.

His idea of a great weekend sounded like the ninth ring of hell for me.

He asked how I felt about not having kids, and if I thought that they were in my future.  I said "never say never," but as of right now, children were the furthest thing from my mind.  I still loved my evenings out, weekend trips away and mornings off reading in bed.  I told him I had a ton of respect for those who had children, because at this point of my life, knowing what I knew about the investment of time and energy a child takes, I didn't feel I was a good candidate. . .

"So you really don't have any interest in kids?" he asked seemingly befuddled.

"Honestly, I'm still a big kid myself. There is a lot that I would want to do with a partner before having children, and just think that jumping into having kids in the super near future with someone I just met, might not be the best idea."

He looked nearly disappointed.  Why did he look disappointed?

Wait, no way. . . I am such an idiot.

Oh God.  This wasn't a friendly drink/get-together. . . this was a date.  I just had no idea going into it that it was a date because I had no idea he was single! The questions about kids didn't have to do with my personal preferences per se; it had to do with whether or not I would be a good candidate to date HIM who had a child already.  Now I felt like a jerk. . . .How do I save this from being the awkward silence that it could possibly be.  OK make this less of a date. . .

"So have you been dating since your divorce?" I inquired.

He divulged that he had been on a few dates, but hadn't really connected with the women because of his hectic schedule with his work and trying to spend as much time as possible with his child.  I offered up perhaps trying to meet single Moms through the day care or in his neighborhood. I was trying to sound cheerful and helpful, and just was failing terribly.  Who was I to play dating counselor??

I think at this point in the evening the bubble had been burst for both of us.  I wasn't ready to date someone with a small child, that had very limited time, and he got the picture that I wasn't the best candidate for him.  We shared a few more stories of times past, finished our drinks and wished each other well on our quest for love.

I ran into him a few months later. He had met a great single Mom, and she and he were doing fantastic. I was so happy for him! In a lot of ways, it gave me hope to keep on going with this dating endeavor.  And so I did. . .

The Farmer Knight

Leave it to me to find one of the only farmers left in the Garden State.

Sadly, this was not his profile picture.

In my quest for my Mr. Right and weekly log in to my online profile, I had received an email from a man telling me he liked my profile, thought I was down-to-earth, and might have a number of things in common with him, if I didn't mind the fact that he was a bit younger.

I was somewhere near the 25 or 26 date mark and figured as always, what the hell, I'll check out his profile. How many bad dates could I go on from this site. I had surely ticked through a first date with what I had hoped, at least for humanity's sake, was 97% of all of the most eccentric characters on this site. The law of averages was that I had to have a good date soon, right? Surely I wouldn't get through all 30 dates?

I arrived at his page and was immediately drawn to his pictures. A number of the six featured photos were of him on a farm.  I assumed he was a farmer, and I thought to myself, "well here's a person with a profession that I think is commendable."

I think that in order to be a farmer you have to respect the land, have to be good with your hands, care for living things and you get to commune with nature.  I think, theoretically, all of the life experiences working on a farm make for a person with qualities that I admire: hard working, understanding, respectful and probably pretty darn chill.

He looked really happy to be working on his farm in his pictures and that was refreshing. I think it's also amazing when you love your job. I feel it's an important key to a happy life, and it's fantastic when people have the good fortune of doing what they love.

Quoted earlier this week as saying she thought her career would be fun and it was.
Yes. This is who you think this is.

I checked out the other pictures of him at a party and what appeared to be a concert.  He looked like he had friends that enjoyed his musical pursuits, and no one was sacrificing animals on stage in any of the pictures. All good things. 

I checked out his "About Me" part of his profile. He talked about being a farmer, loving his work, enjoying music and concerts and finished with sharing he had a vast knowledge of wine. Super cool.

I checked out where he lived and it wasn't hundreds of miles away. Cool. He owned a car, didn't have a cat (I'm allergic and not going to come between anyone and their pet), was seeking a relationship, drank socially and didn't have any kids. All of these things were a OK with me. 

"Might as well," I thought to myself. At worst this was another crumby date, at best, it could be a tale of two people meeting and having a wonderful dating existence. 

My mind flashed 20 years into the future. I was retired and living on a farm, sitting on a wrap around porch in front of a large farmhouse, feeling the sun warm my skin while I sat sipping a glass of my family's vineyard's wine. In my vision I looked left at my winery, and right to rolling green hills of my family's farm and thought to myself "who knew meeting someone on this crazy site would have landed me here."

Dream big? Right? 

I drifted back to reality with a certain sense of peace. 

"Let's hope this works,"I thought to myself.

I sent a message telling him how interesting I thought it was to have his job, and how cool it was that he seemed so happy doing it. I also took the opportunity to ask him what show he had gone to that was pictured in the image he had posted. Maybe this was a lame start, but, I don't have a ton in common with farmers. I have killed nearly every house plant I have owned and my garden this year; let's just say that those poor little seedlings didn't stand a chance.  

I logged off the dating site, went about my evening and fell asleep that night dreaming of lunches on a wooden table in vast vineyard field. Maybe I was reenacting the scene from Under the Tuscan Sun. Whatever. You get the picture.

The following day I checked to see if the farmer had checked back. He had!

In his email he thanked me for responding. He talked about his job, his pride in his work, and long days and nights that had led to him online dating. He asked me a few questions about my day, my job, and what sort of music I liked, and inquired if I would be willing to meet for a glass of wine at a local restaurant the following evening. He included a phone number and told me if I text him, we could get to know each other before we met.

Yes sir. This sounded like a plan. 

At this point I went back to his profile and looked at his pictures. He looked really young but, well, since when is looking young a crime? Had I looked at his age? Nope. Better not. Let's just live in the moment and not go into the date with judgements or expectations. If he knew about wine I am sure he didn't start drinking it last week, and if he was suggesting this specific place, he struck me as more mature than 21.  

I jotted down his number on a sheet of paper,  shut the computer and thought, "hey, this might go well. Stay positive." 

That part of me, that usually is the voice of reason, deep inside me cringed a bit at my brain's positive, dogmatic mantra. 

A short while later he text me asking what time the following evening would work. We agreed to meet around 9pm since I didn't want to schedule too early with my work, and he couldn't schedule too late because, well, I guess he got up when the rooster crowed?

We text back and forth and discovered that we shared a love of DJ music. I had spent the greater part of my early twenties bouncing from night club to night club listening to all the hottest DJs of the late 90's early 2000's. My friends and I were regulars at the China Club, the Limelight, Twilo, Vinyl and Sound Factory. 

I was doing this long before Miley Cirus was even alive. 

I can recall making a trip to the Ministry of Sound in London specifically to see what sort of DJs the British were getting down to. I listened to DJs like John Digweed, Sasha, Junior Vasquez,  and Paul Oakenfold who forged paths for today's dance music and awesome beats. We chatted about music for a while via text, text about our love of wine and our respective trips to the Napa Valley. It was getting late and he was needing to retire and I didn't want to soak up all the potential conversation for the following day. 

The next day went by fairly quickly and next thing I knew, it was about an hour till I was due to meet my Knight at David Todd's City Tavern. Despite the fact that they had been open for some time, I had still not gotten myself to this fine establishment. I thought I knew of a few of my fellow colleagues from years past in the service industry now working there, but still, my travels had not taken me there. I threw on a pair of jeans, a comfortable fitted cotton shirt and a pair of open toe sandals. 

If my date was lying about his height of 6'3, at least I wouldn't tower over him. 

I arrived at the restaurant to find that it was nearly empty. As I looked down the bar, there was one, lone, dark-haired man leaning over a phone, with a glass of beer in front of him. This has got to be my Knight.

As I walked over, he turned around to greet me. In his pictures he was clean cut and neatly groomed. Today, he looked like he could be one of the brothers from Duck Dynasty. His beard was large and in charge. It was also getting a bit ZZ Top'esque. He also had a big bushy head of hair and large framed glasses. For a second I actually thought he might be wearing a disguise. I was nearly waiting for him to pick up the glasses and have the beard and mustache attached become un affixed from his face in a "gotcha" sort of way.  I was trying not to look surprised. 

Now let me say I have no problem with facial hair. I know a LOT of women out there who feel very strongly about their man not looking like a lumber jack for any number of reasons. I however, think men should be hairy and continually find it strange when they wax, shave and manicure their chests and well, other bits. I am all for manscaping, but leave SOME of what Nature gave you. 

Ok some, being the operative word.

He shook my hand "hello" and I sat down next to him. All I could think to say was, "I dig the glasses."

He looked like he was blushing at my comment, and now emitted this odd hi pitch, fake sounding giggle that didn't seem like it should come out of a man this size.  He was definitely 6 foot plus, and seemed to have a slight build for a farmer. All of this was congruent with his photos, but the hair and the laugh, I felt like he was in character or something. Or maybe this was who he was.  . .Guess I was going to find out. 

Trying to make everything more comfortable for everyone, I pointed at the glass of beer and said, "I guess you didn't care for the wine list?" I smiled big and tried to show him I was poking fun and not being critical. 

"Oh yeah, " he said. "I'm kind of a snob I guess."

"Well that's OK. I'm a bit of a foodie and wine person myself. We like what we like, huh?" I smiled. 

Again, he emitted that odd nervous laugh.  

He stared at the glass. He then stared at me. Then the glass again. 

I was going to have to carry the conversation. OK here we go. . . 

"So this is a cool place," I remarked looking around.

"Yeah," he said. "I've been here a couple of times."

"This is my first time here. It's pretty nice. Have you had the food?" I inquired.

"Nope," he commented.

"Was it a long drive for you here?" I was digging for small talk so he would be less nervous looking and in turn it would make me less uncomfortable.  

"Nope.  It's not far. My friends and I come out this way when the growing season is done and I can have a bit of a break."

He divulged that he worked pretty much 5am till 8pm every day except for one weekend day that kind of rotated.  On top of that, he never got to really go anywhere because there were only just a few brief weeks a year that he wasn't committed to the work on the farm.

I wasn't sure how this was going to work. How was anyone supposed to date this guy? He was only available from 8pm (maybe), till 10pm (because he had to be up early for the farm), 6 days a week with only really 2-3 weeks of quality time to himself a year? Maybe being a farmer wasn't so cool after all.

My vision of my large farmhouse, backyard winery and lush green backdrop for my life were crumbling. 

I didn't want to date someone on that tight a schedule. I felt like the relationship would have more of a booty call feel than a real dating feel. Dang. 

When the conversation slowed, I brought up the music that we had been discussing the evening before. He then dropped the "how old are you anyway" question.

I replied as I had so many times before my date turned into a pumpkin with the magical words "I'm 35."

He then replied to me, "Woah.  You were around for the Golden Age of raves and clubbing." 

I now felt ancient. 

Yeah. She was single at my age too. It's cool.

It was bad enough the music I listened to in my early 20s now comes on the Old Skool album compilations. Or even that, years ago, I scoffed at my parents for listening to 106.7 because of their "lame old music" and now, I found myself tuning in to this very channel to hear "I Wanna Know What Love Is" and "She Bop". Oh, how the tides have changed. 

Turns out my farmer, when he did have more than three hours to himself, was raving and raging till dawn at underground clubs, warehouses and anywhere a DJ could set up a sound system.  Raving was his passion. 

So was mine. Fifteen years ago.

I didn't see how this was going to work. 

He now regarded me as a relic of a time period he revered. I felt like a museum piece that was being marveled at.  The fact that this now mundane conversation about whatever had now turned into his excited questions about my clubbing past made me feel like there was now a gaping chasm between our ages. 

Trying to decipher how old he was without coming out and asking, I asked how old his siblings were, and how many years between them and him. 

I'm no mathematician but the number I kept landing on was 24. 

Nope this wasn't going to work. I had vowed to get out of the kiddie pool and here I was, yet again, wading ankle deep. 


The natural course of the conversation was winding down and I felt that this was a good time to make an escape. 

I mentioned that I knew he had to be up early, and I was just beat from the day.  Being old and all. 

He paid for the wine and told me he was interested in hearing more from me about the music from "the old days".  

I thanked him for the wine, bid him goodnight, smiled and asked him to text when he was home safe. 

I received a text from him when he was home and then the following day the text messages continued. 

I finally leveled with him and expressed that I wasn't sure how I thought this was going to work with his limited time, and our few common interests.  He said he was OK with this because he didn't feel an attraction to me on a pheromonal level. 

Huh?

What did that mean? 

Everyone was polite in their departure texts but I was bewildered.

Maybe he was looking for a human stimulant that could be his daily Molly? Who knew. To this day, I wonder what happened that I didn't make the cut as the traveling human rave. 

Ha! As if!






  

The Fastest Knight Ever

I would like to start this by stating that I blame this Knight on my sitting around watching Celebrity Rehab.  

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.