The "Serial Killer" Knight

Let's preface this blog entry by stating: I love people who let their freak flag fly.  If I did not feel this way,  I would have allowed what was a great experience to pass me by.  . .

I was checking my inbox on my dating site of choice and I came across an email that caught my eye.  I can't recall what the title was, but "hey" or "sup" wasn't the subject, so I decided to read on.

In this man's intro he wrote he had been on the site for some time, but had not really contacted anyone. For whatever reason, when he came across my profile he decided that he HAD to reach out to me. I wish I still had the email because it was so witty and well thought out, for the first time on this crumby dating site, I was impressed. He had a great dead pan humor way of writing and if you took offense easily, well, he wasn't your "cup of tea," he wrote. He was complimentary, witty,  and already had a plan for a first date according to his email.  This was a lot more than I can say about most of the men I have dated so far! Come to think of it, his intro email was probably one of the most sincere emails I have gotten while on this dating site.

While still basking in the glow of this awesome hello letter I went to check out his profile. His handle was something like SerialKiller. The glow is now beginning to fade. . .

As I began to read the profile, I realized that a lot of his profile stats were BS. If you didn't, you were an idiot.

I'm just sayin. . .

He spoke Tagalog.  He was a dictator of a small African nation, and had a summer home on the moon. I liked the irreverence. It was refreshing.

His profile was LONG. Longer than mine and probably one of the longest I have read from the varying suitors. He had a scpheal on his profile about "if you were attracted to the dictatorial, baby seal killing, 6'7 type" he was your ideal mate.  He then went on a whole diatribe about how if you had pistachio shells for brains or wanted a man "who's wallet in his back pocket weighed him down more than his manhood in the front," you weren't going to be his cup of tea either.

At this point most women would probably be horrified, but me, nope. I was enthralled. This guy goes on a dating site to meet chicks and writes psychobabble. I thought it was revolutionary.

I looked at his pictures to see what this radical dictator/astronaut did in his spare time. I was pleasantly surprised to see  pictures of him from all over the world. The funny part was that I KNEW where he was in most of the pictures. . .and I'm not talking he was standing next to Mickey with a giant castle in the background. He had pictures of him on tropical islands, on the streets of Europe and poolside at Mexican resorts. He likes to travel.  He's in.

I decided that despite the craziness in his profile writeup I loved the email, loved the pictures and if two out of three gets you somewhere on American Idol, who am I to argue with this logic.

To further see if I had totally lost my mind about this specific specimen I invited my friend Denise to listen to me read a few excerpts of his profile entry and his intro email to me. As I sat there, reading to her, her face sliding into a state of shock, I knew I was nuts.

"Chris, his handle is SerialKiller or whatever. Don't you think that that is a reason to NOT go out with him?" She looked exasperated.

"Nah. I think it's a front. I think he's detached or something. Maybe we're supposed to meet so I reattach him,"as I laughed wildly.

This dating death march has definitely affected me.

I email him back at 4pm that day to tell him that I think that we should speak sooner rather than later. He calls me at 5pm. I am still with Denise. It's friend time. No boys horning in on friend time. It's like, you don't talk about Fight Club. It's not debatable.  I text him that he should try back later around 9pm.

Well by 9pm we have been sipping margaritas for the better part of happy hour and I am blush with Don Julio. Denise has departed and I am arranging and re-arranging clothes and dishes. SerialKiller gives me a call and I can't help but pick up. I am more than relaxed enough to talk to a complete stranger.  After the last Eminem event, even if this goes south, it may be good fodder for the all girls lunch this week. I mean, we still talk about the random dick pic.

SerialKiller and I proceed to talk for over 2 hours. We talk politics, religion and favorite places traveled around the world. We periodically speak Spanish to each other, because we can. He has me giggling like a school girl and I feel like, finally, I can connect with someone.

I am not a phone person, and the fact that this man has kept me on the phone for the better part of 3 hours is no small feat. We agree that we will meet later on this week somewhere in between he and I. He asks if I like the Bonefish Grill, and I tell him it's a great place and I love their bang bang shrimp. He agrees that we need to go drink good wine and eat good food and that is where we are going to go.

The night of the date I arrive at the Bonefish Grill before him and take my seat at the bar. It's been a rough day, and I am excited to have what seems like it will be a great evening ahead. After waiting for a few minutes I notice someone out of the corner of my eye.

When he sat down next to me he was strikingly more handsome than his pictures portrayed. He had pale alabaster skin and eyes that reminded me of the water of Bermuda. He seemed as if he was about 6'4 and pretty slim.  His head was shaved with a slight hint of brown stubble under the smooth surface.

As he was getting comfortable in his chair, he seemed to be studying me as he sat there. I couldn’t tell if he was impressed, beguiled or just stunned. He sat there looking at me like he wasn’t sure he was there. I in turn began to wonder if I was the person this man was looking for, or if I was part of some traveling staring contest.  As soon as I was going to say something to break the ice, he did.

“Why hello,” he cooed. I said “hi” and introduced myself. He sat back in his chair and the bartender stopped by. He ordered a Bud and then apologized for ordering crappy beer.

Well at least he  knew he was ordering crappy beer. I sat there with my three olive Chopin martini that I had paid for in full prior to his arrival. I had been eyeing it up for the minutes before he arrived, hoping that it was going to be worth sitting through.

I know, I am sorry.

I know I sound jaded but at this point I had been on nearly 20 dates and was really questioning the world and my place in it.

Was I looking for too much? I didn’t think so. . .

Other women out there had gainfully employed, fully functioning male counterparts who didn’t make you feel like they were going to either drive you crazy with their idiosyncratic quirks or smother you in your sleep at night.  So far everyone I had gone out with made me think that perhaps being married to my career had been the RIGHT choice and this dating thing, well it was, bush league at best. 

I came-to out of my "what am I doing with my life" mental montage to see the man sitting next to me still sitting there so this must be my reality.  We spoke of how he had decided on Bonefish Grill and I expressed how pleased I was to not to have to pick the restaurant. He began to ask questions about my day and trip over and truly seemed engaged. We chatted about my time with roller derby since he knew someone who had done it, his job in sales and why we couldn't get non GMO labeling in the US. We then spoke of the parameters there were for dinner, since I am allergic to nearly everything, and he had hard limits with the kind of fish he would eat.

We segued over to a table after I insisted in paying the bar tab.  I felt a level of, “I can walk away from this date if it goes South" because I paid the bar tab. I don't know why I always feel that way. . .

When we arrived at the table the great conversation continued. We seemed to have very similar values and beliefs. There were even some similarities that we had  that were not common or popular. He was eloquent, kind and really listened. We were now closing the restaurant. We had been at dinner for over 4.5 hours. Since I believe in restaurant karma, I felt badly sitting this late and suggested we make our way outside. As we were beginning to gather our things to get up and go outside,  he stopped speaking abruptly and just looked at me. I thought I had sprouted a lobster out my ear. 

He looked at me and said "I don't want to do this once again."

I sat across from him wide eyed and mouth agape. I have been turned down before, but this was like a harpooning. I thought it had gone well!!

"I want to do this as often as we can," he replied with a smile.

I nodded in agreement and a sigh of relief escaped me. I felt like a high school girl who just got told a boy liked her.

We departed the table, since the restaurant was now closing, and he offered to walk me to my car. I think I had the spot literally right next to the door, so I pointed, smiled and he nodded and laughed.

"Should we do this again soon?" he asked.

I nodded in agreement. He kissed me on the cheek and wished me a good night and promised to text when he got home so I knew he got home safe. He asked me to do the same and I agreed.

As I walked to my car I was really excited. I felt like he and I had a ton in common and really connected.  I was excited to see where things were going to go.

As I put my key in the ignition to begin my journey home, I noticed that the car he had gotten into was not heading towards the parking lot exit, but rather racing towards me. The car was coming at my drivers side door at such a clip that I thought that his car was going to ram into mine!

"What the hell is he doing?!?!?!"

Just as I thought that I had been duped by some crack pot, demolition derby fan, the front end of his car stopped just short of my drivers door. As I was going to roll down the window to scream "what the hell are you doing?!?!" he threw the car in park and got out.

I am now totally baffled. Am I getting carjacked?

I had the window rolled down to call out to him and as I leaned out it, he kissed me. He then stood back and said "I needed to do that. I guess we can go home now."

I was a bit taken a back. It was sweet and scary all at the same time. I couldn't tell if my heart was a flutter for the fact that he had done this outrageous thing to kiss me, or if I was just scared for my life.

In any case, I was definitely going out with this guy again.

The Pisan Knight

pisan: (as listed on the Urban Dictionary website) An Italian, esp. an Italian Male 

This date was initially going to be called the Persistent Knight, but I think he is being de-throned as I write.

As soon as I got the on-line dating page resurrected this gentleman started emailing. He was pleasant in his email but the messages seemed a bit canned. If you have never done the online dating thing, here's a little secret. . .Some dudes treat their dating profile introduction like the introduction to their insurance agency. You get a form letter. What I find to be hysterical is when I get the same form letter twice. The kick in the ass is that you can see what you have written in all your message chains back and forth. Stunning.

I am fairly certain I got at least one and half canned letters from this gentleman, so I wasn't really keen on meeting him.  Also, something about his profile made me ignore the initial requests. I can't recall at the time but I just was not totally into meeting this guy. Apparently though, he was totally into meeting me.  He continued to email me asking me if I had any time to get together, how my work was going and would kind of check in and say hi periodically.  I liked his persistence. It wasn't creepy, it was determination to get me to say OK, so I did. I like persistence.

We had agreed to meet the first time I think the night that Hurricane Sandy hit. I had cancelled in anticipation of the storm and he was already asking for the rain date.

Donate to Sandy

I think we then agreed to meeting if power was back for both of us (as it turned out) the night that we had a Noreaster.  I was assuming the universe was telling me three strikes and you are out. . .Maybe I should have listened.

From the get go he had wanted to meet at Bensi.  I agreed, having been there once. He had sent on the address for the initial meeting, which was now some time ago and buried in my text messages and that's where things started to go wrong. Now anyone who knows me, knows I was destined to be a CEO.  "Just give me the 30 thousand foot view." I like the big picture and glaze over details like a doughnut. He had sent the address ages ago, I had glanced at it, saw the highway it was on and though "Oh, I know where that is", and then never looked at it again.

I set out the evening of our date due to be at Bensi at 8.  It wasn't Blue Ribbon, but I was amped to go none the less. It's like when you are standing on the side of the boat getting ready to go diving. You know it's gonna be an adventure you just aren't sure if you are going to get out of the water relaxed and at peace or screaming and terrified.

I pulled into the parking lot at roughly 7:58pm and there were just a few cars. Something just felt off. "Was this the right place?"I thought to myself.  For whatever reason, NOW, I decide to jog back through the text messages to see what the address was. Yep, as I had suspected he was headed about 5 minutes down the road to the OTHER Bensi. Awesome.

I called him and sheepishly confessed that I hadn't checked the address and I was at the wrong place. He was flabbergasted.  He kept asking "Didn't I send you the address?" I kept repeating that I had received it but had gotten my wires crossed and he was beyond vexed as to how this could have happened.  I offered to come to where he was if he was willing to wait just a few minutes more. He kept asking if I had put it in my GPS.  I kept explaining I didn't have a GPS. (Generally I like to drive with the Force. No GPS crap. I just FEEL like we should go the way we are going.)

Good enough for Obi-Wan Yoda and Gary Coleman is good enough for me

Kindly, he offered to come to where I was and to look for him in a few minutes. I sat down at the bar, ordered myself a drink and commenced with waiting. I am not usually a fruity drink girl, but seeing as I didn't think that this date was going to last long from the jump, I figured again, what the hell, I might as well have a buzz on while I wait.  I ordered a clementine flavored cosmo and truth be told, it was quite tasty. Shortly there after in walks our Knight.

To give you some background on my hesitation with my Pisan Knight -  I am Italian.  I can hide it about as much as I can hide my love of the daily Ross and Simons emails I get.  I knew at some point during this dating adventure I was going to run into a fellow full blooded Italian man. Being from the Northern New Jersey area not running into an Italian guy in a pool of 30 was pretty much like like going surfing and not getting wet. I don't have anything against Italian men. Don't get me wrong. I just find that the ones in their 40s who have never been married and still live with their mothers are well, not my ideal candidates. In my experience, I have found that this group are fastidious, regimented and kind of old world in their thinking. They believe women still belong in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant, men need to do men things and flex their machismo, among other depressing dogmas that cause a staunch feminist like me to feel a bit itchy every time I have to keep their company. I thought perhaps maybe by the good grace of the universe, I would dodge the Pisan bullet and get a "modern" Italian man.

He was about 5’8, full head of dark hair and very Italian looking.  His profile said 42 and looked like he was into working out and skin care products.  He was clean shaven and dressed in a purple button down shirt and jeans.  Upon realizing who I was he immediately started in with “I had a number of jokes  I was going to use with you about not being able to get to the right place,” and I wanted to bolt out the door speaking in tongues assuring he would never call again. It’s like bartending and getting the guy who thinks he’s hysterical and you are his private audience. Unless you’re Eddie Murphy it’s pretty fucking painful. I felt badly about the mistake and his idea of humor was being lost on me.

I suppressed the urge to run and told myself I have a blog to write and I really need to commit to make this work. I am close to having my first sit down dinner since this whole dating blog started and it’s 8pm and I am starving. We agree to move from the bar to the restaurant so I close out my tab and grab my martini. We sit down and immediately he brings the conversation back to the fact that I was at the wrong place. I now try a different tactic.  I tell him how grateful I am that he was the one who fixed the problem. I hope that this will get us past this or I am ordering the check. This seems to work, he backs off and  he and I look at the menus to figure out what we are going to eat. He tells me that he is very health conscious and will be getting his usual grilled chicken and salad.  Shit. I can’t be a total heathen and order a full entree with this guy. I think I said “Oh cool,” and starting perusing the appetizers. The waiter comes over and asks if we need anything to drink. I tell him I am just looking for a water back for my martini and my date orders a Appletini.  Now maybe I am strange but I don’t usually see guys ordering Appletinis.  Discuss.

He starts the conversation with “So how’s the dating website working out for you?” I look at him and respond dryly, “If it was going so well would I be here?” I figure he’s either going to be offended or laugh this comment off. If he’s offended, game over, I am out of here. If he laughs it off, I’ll stay.  He ends up laughing it off and I figure we are going to continue the conversation. Now begins the interrogation. Am I originally from New Jersey? Where are my parents from in Italy? What do I think of online dating? Is my hair naturally blond?  What sort of business am I involved in?  Do I work out? And a laundry list of about three dozen other questions rained down on me for the next 15 minutes that made me feel like all was missing was spotlight and someone asking me where I was on the night in question. He at one point  HE even said, “I am asking a lot of questions. This is turning into an interview,” and again more serious than joking responded, “yep, sort of.”

I try to dodge the battery of questions by asking him what his hobbies are and what he is passionate about. He tells me he is into trading stocks, options specifically. I begin to ask him about this topic because I know as much about stocks as I do the square root of phi.  At first this seems like it is resuscitating the conversation. He becomes animated and starts telling me about naked buys and sells and despite the fact that I have only had 2 sips of my martini, my head is swimming trying to keep up with all the phrases and terms that he is using.  When dinner arrives, my fried calamari and his clams, (last minute decision to grow a pair I guess and not get a salad?) I am relieved. Perhaps now this will change the course of the conversation again. Wishful thinking. He now takes this opportunity to start in with “OK, here are some Series 7 questions" . . .  and begins quizzing me on the material he has just covered.  Fortunately for me,  I am getting the questions right but have no idea why or how. . . but this is getting seriously old. I feel like I am on a date with my college professor trying to get extra credit points. I try to shift the conversation yet again. . .

He mentioned he liked music so I begin to ask him about what type of music he plays/likes.  We have what turns out to be a decent conversation about music, that then segues a conversation about cars. He explains to me that there are girl and boy cars and of course I have a Jetta because it is a girl car. This is all very interesting coming from a man drinking an Appletini. Periodically he stops his diatribe about who-knows-what to attempt to force feed me calamari and clams. I had never been browbeaten into eating appetizers, but tonight seems to be a night of firsts, why not.

I need to get off this crazy train I am calling a date and get on with my getting home. I’m stuffed to the gills, my head is still swimming and now my date who has had ¼ of his drink is telling me he feels “tipsy”.  I have never been more happy to see waiters breaking down a restaurant in my whole entire life. I see our waiter come over and I immediately start with “I don’t want to keep you here any later than you need to be here. I’m in the biz and I feel terrible we are the last table holding you up. Please bring us a check whenever you are ready” I find that this approach, in its altruism, masks the disdain I have for sitting one more minute with this man. He agrees it is getting late (It’s 10pm) and he should probably be getting home too.  He walks me out to my car. I thank him for a lovely evening and he asks if we can go out again another time. I tell him that the rest of the month with the holidays and what not are going to be a challenge for me but I will do the best I can to get back to him in a timely manner. I get in my car and drive away giggling. Well at least I know I might be able to pass the Series 7 Exam now!

The Patrick Dempsey Knight

In order to kick off this dating/Knighting endeavor I had been initially relying solely on the online dating site as my main line for potential dates.  I don't think I have ever been asked out by a man at a bar and just didn't think that men were now going to be stopping me at Trader Joes just because I was now in dating mode. The thought was that I would put my lure in the water, so to speak, leave it there, and see what bit with the online dating page was surely my best bet.   Plus, it was a whole test of this patience thing everyone tells me about that I just don't seem to have.  

Initially when I created the online profile page had been in Brisbane for a bit and decided why not get out and meet the locals.  

Local Flavor

I think I went on two walking dates (we got a cup of coffee and walked around the park) and well, was gonna just focus on work and roller derby for the remainder of the stay in Oz. . .

My Aussie Men

A year ago I decided to take a look at the page that I had set up during my my stay in Australia. 

In my inbox I had a response from a guy wearing a lobster hat. I was intrigued. Who would wear a lobster hat for their profile picture.  So I read what he wrote. I can't recall it all but he touched on  my traveling and his traveling and I thought, what the hell. He seemed like a nice enough guy and if he was wearing a lobster hat, perhaps he didn't have heads in his fridge at home. 

People that wear lobster hats are OK?

So Patrick Dempsey Knight and I decide that we are going to meet halfway between he and I since we will both be coming from a distance. We decide to meet in a small town called Milford which seems to virtually be in the middle of no where. We wander around town and check out antique shops. I think either he's gay or an interior decorator.  Turns out he's a salesman for his company and a very good one at that. He tells me of his travels and time on the Cape and we end up having an amazing flight of hors d'oeuvre
 at a local French restaurant that we just so happen to stumble into.  It's like the cutest little bar and bistro in a basement and you would never think in a million years that this great place is in this one horse town. I wish I got the name of the spot!

He's a foodie, I'm a foodie, and we are having a great time talking about traveling.  As the night wore on, I realized that I still had quite a drive home, thanked him for a great evening and then bid him adieu.  Time, distance and my over all lack of the desire to date led to nearly a year gap until I heard from him again. He reached out to me on the online dating site and wondered if we could meet again because he was going to be moving further away. I knew that I was going to have to start this whole dating endeavor again, and why not start off with someone that I had had a good time with previously. 

We planned to meet this time closer to me because I would be getting done with work and he was in the mood for a good drive.  It was football Sunday and if the date totally tanked I would at least get to watch the game.  We decided to meet at Vanderbilt's since we could couch out, play pool or grab a bite to eat and have plenty of TVs for me to watch the game. 

I arrived at the bar and some of my friends from Morristown were standing standing around watching the game. Other than these guys I hadn't seen in ages, there was really no one in the place. I saw Knight Dempsey sitting at the other end of the bar and waved hello.  I sat down, made myself comfortable at the bar and started scoping out the beer selection.

I realized when I sat down that not only was I wearing a scarf, but my date was wearing a similar scarf as well. His was wrapped much more nicely than mine.  I marveled at it and I commented on the fact that I liked that he had gotten the scarf memo.  I frequently am in awe of how well put together the men I go out with are. I am not. I dressed myself based upon the mannequin in the shop, the stripper on the website or the fact that the clothes may have showed up as hand me downs in the same bag. Call me gauche. I never have, unlike the men I have dated, waited an entire 45 minutes for a different belt to arrive or worried that my pink on pink ensemble was too much.  I digress.

So Knight Dempsey is just as lovely as I remember. He has a warm and inviting way about him sort of like my friends grandmother. We swap hostel websites, talk about our travels and where we are headed to next. I ask about his job and he's excited about the promotion. He's a great guy and a super easy person to talk to. He wants to help me land a new client of his that he thinks I would work well with and over all it's like catching up with an old friend. But that's just it. I feel like I'm catching up with an old friend. There's no chemistry and well, honestly, Patrick Dempsey is a good looking guy, but this is just not my cup of tea.  It's a great feel good night. It's nearing 11pm and I realize I still have tons of day work to do.  I finish my half cider/half Oktoberfest beer, thanked him for coming, and quietly walk to my car. I knew I was never going to go out with him again. Despite his winning personality, and trendy scarf, I just wasn't feeling it and now it was time to start scheduling these other 29 dates.