The Diplomat Knight

** This knight will require a two blog post. I still have not determined if this counts as 1 date or 2 separate dates. Perhaps my level of dating fatigue will determine this as we near the end of this EPIC journey**

The Diplomat Knight

While wading through the random messages in my PoF inbox of "hey whtz up" and "hey wanna chat," which I feel warrant none of my attention, I saw an email that caught my eye. So very often on this dating site you get a, "looking good" or "ur cute" or my personal favorite, "why are you posting pictures of your daughter here?"(They are all pics of me.)

Anyway. . . This particular man who I will talk about had taken the time to author a note to me that extended beyond a sentence, was punctuated, and not in text speak. I thought that this, therefore, deserved my attention. 

In his note to me he expressed that he was a diplomat, who had just recently wrapped up living abroad in Africa, and was heading back stateside to start the next chapter of his life in DC. You could tell that he had actually read my profile because he echoed a number of the sentiments I mentioned in it, and asked questions about my wants and life in general. I was impressed at the time that he had devoted to inquiring about me, and the fact that he actually seemed interested in my life, and meeting me. Perhaps he wasn't just looking to fill a Friday night? Thrilling!

I responded back asking him questions about his job, travels and hopes for returning to the US. I was impressed with his traveling, eloquence and work. Further captivating were his pictures which were a veritable montage that portrayed him as a worldly person, showing off his travels from the Far East to Russia. 

Now, anyone who knows me knows that travel is my passion, and I find this to be a hot commodity when looking for a partner. If you are not willing to sling on a backpack, take a 17 hour plane flight, or experience the local souk, you need not apply. This man had been to well over 100 countries and apparently had no fear backpacking a third world country. Bonus!

His pictures indicated that he was a bit older; perhaps in his late 40s at best; totally OK. He appeared tall (plus), well dressed (another plus), and had very kind eyes (I'm a sucker for kind eyes). He seems to be fit and youthful looking (awesome!). I had been having 0 success with the last umpteen dates and thought perhaps I had found someone I could really connect with, so why not try to get to know this guy. 

After a number of emails back and forth on the dating site, we exchanged numbers, and began to text and call.  Texts were brief, and the phone calls usually were just a few minutes when one of us was heading in the car here or there, but we were making an attempt to connect when we could to get to know each other.

NOW. . . During this time, I got a wild hair up my ass, as I sometimes do, and decided that with the Giants season nearing a close, I MUST GET TO A GIANTS game. I don't know why the universe wanted me to go so badly, but I literally felt that if I didn't go to a Giants game ASAP, the world was definitely going to end on December 21st. 

Being a loving family member and friend and hoping to spare my friends and the rest of the world the horror of the world ending I began to research tickets for a game. As fate would have it, the next game they had was to be played was in Maryland at the Redskins home stadium on a Monday night. PERFECT. 

How serendipitous. Here I was, talking to a man that was in DC reconnecting for his next career path and the Giants, my favorite football team, were due to be right in his old stomping ground. I began to have hope maybe all this crumby dating had been for a reason!!

I checked out ticket prices, which were moderate compared to the over inflated prices back North, and rang him with my idea. How much fun would it be to have a first date at a football game! He was impressed with the idea, and never having been to a Redskins game at the new FedEx Stadium, he agreed that this was a great idea. I was elated. He was so excited, he thought that it might be best if  instead of just driving down to see the game, why not spend a couple of days in DC so he could take me on a tour the city and really get to know each other.

I was hesitant.  I am all for going to a game that ran potentially three hours, but more than one day? That seemed excessive. Hmmm.  I rang Kristina who has been my sounding board for this whole dating endeavor. I spoke with her about  my concerns. Some of these dates had me wanting to pull my hair out 30 minutes in. What was I going to do hanging out with some strange man for two days?

She was encouraging and made a good point. DC was a big place, and if it all went south I could always ditch him in a museum. I thought about what she said, realized the merit, and perhaps against that little voice inside of me, decided "what harm could a few days in DC be!"

I went online and found a hostel in DC close to the down town and booked a room at Diplomatic Stay for Sunday and Monday night. I then purchased two tickets to the Monday night game, and let the Knight know that we were a go to meet up when I got into town on Sunday. He was overjoyed that I was coming to DC, and I was thrilled, since my last visit to the capital was when I was in college.

The Sunday morning of my trip I packed my bags, loaded up the car and began the four plus hour journey down to our nations capital.  I enjoyed my book on CD, stopping to grab a Diet Coke and chocolate croissant at my old stomping ground in DE and arrived in DC at just about 2pm.

The hostel I chose was apparently previously the home of the former President of the American Red Cross and was beautiful! I checked myself in to this palatial mansion, got my bunk squared away, and rang the Knight to let him know that I had officially made it to town and was ready to tour DC with him.  We weren't sure where to meet up, since I wasn't familiar with the city or really any of the train or subway stations. He thought it was best if he came to pick me up.

I sat with nervous anticipation in the living room of the mansion. This had all the potential to be a great afternoon of touring and getting to know him, or it was going to be an epic journey of human torment.  I was hoping for the former rather than the later. 

When I got the call that he had arrived at my hostel I guess I thought he was walking or driving; who knows? Maybe I didn't give it a lot of thought. When I walked outside my building there was a cab parked there and a man getting out of it.  Strange. I guess this was him. 

He hailed me over to the cab and I hesitated across the street. Rule number one as a child. Don't get into the car with strangers. Well, this wasn't a car, and I guess he wasn't a stranger? I stood there for a minute debating the idea of getting into this cab with someone I didn't know. Isn't this how horror films start? 

I think the movie The Bone Collector had been on the week before and maybe my gears were going.  The reckless side of me said "fuck it". What are the chances that the driver and this diplomat are in cahoots? I crossed the street and he hugged me "hello".  I said "hello" in return and he helped me into the cab. I waved hello to the driver, and he smiled warmly back at me.  OK. Perhaps I am not going to be a head in a jar in this guy's fridge.

We were now being shuttled off to the subway station where we were going to take the subway into the city.   I settled in for what was about a 10 minute ride and began speaking with the Knight.  He talked to me as if we were old friends, having always known each other, and this was not the first meeting and first time face-to-face. He actually seemed more interested in talking to the driver about how bad the neighborhood we were heading through was, but I sloughed this off as perhaps just nervous banter and re would eventually redirect the conversation back to me.

As he was talking I was surveying him. He resembled the man in the pictures on his profile, but it was as if he had been photo shopped in his pics. My first thought was "this man resembles a not-so-handsome John Edwards".  He was dressed in a red sweater, white tee shirt underneath, khaki pants, a brown suede jacket and really awful brown shoes you would see on someone in a homeless shelter. He dressed like an old man. Ugh.

As I looked at him closer, I noticed a few things that were just shockingly different than his photos.  First: He had a HUGE pot belly that made it look like he was hiding a pillow under his sweater/shirt. As if this wasn't bad enough, his comb-over, that had been very well hidden in his pictures with various hunting, fishing and ski hats, began somewhere at the base of his skull and swirled his head full of grey hair forward in this bizarre bouffant that made Donald Trump's bouffant look moderate. Oh boy. 

As he continued to talk and gesture I noticed he had INCREDIBLY small hands.  Like Austin Powers Carney small hands, small.  His finger nails were chewed down to the nubs and I was grossed out at the thought of the amount of time that this man must have his hands in his mouth. YUCK.

We arrived at the subway station and he had literally not stopped talking the ENTIRE TIME we were in the taxi. It wasn't a conversation, it was a running monologue that continued well into the subway station. OH MY GOD. HOW AM I GOING TO GET THROUGH THE NEXT TWO DAYS! 

We exited the cab and walked into the subway station. He had a metro card but it didn't seem to work and I needed to buy one anyway.  We walked over to the machine for the subway and he seemed confused by the purchase process. Instead of asking me what I thought, trying to figure it out or READING THE DIRECTIONS he immediately asked one of the attendants to come over and help him. OK so he seems like one of these guys who if he doesn't get it immediately he has to have someone do it for him.  Great. 

The attendant proceeds to tell him that he will first have to initiate the sale by putting, maybe it was $1.50 into the machine to tender the card. This threw him into a tizzy. $1.50 to just get the card going! This was preposterous! Why did he have to pay $1.50 to activate a card he was going to have to put money on anyway.  He gets into this whole conversation with the attendant about how everything is so expensive these days and how everyone is always raking you over the coals for more money.  I could have been taken away by a band of chimpanzees and he wouldn't have noticed. He is just on a diatribe about this card and the injustices of capitalism.  

I decide to step in and say that I am happy to pay for the subway tickets. With my money and his attendant we FINALLY purchase our cards and get a move on.  We board the train and his running monologue continues. He's going on and on about how he as 20K pounds of furniture in storage overseas and how expensive it is going to be to get it out, and how costly it will be to get his Mercedes C class from Iowa where it's been at his family's home. I pretend to care but I am already not sure how this is the same person I talked with on the phone. . .

We arrive at Union Station and decide to get lunch.  I ask him where he would like to go, since he is the local, and he tells me that everything in Union Station is different since the last time he has been there. We have a wander and decide on Thunder Grill to have buffalo burgers and beers.  Mind you, the only question he has asked me in this whole rant from my hostel is if I eat buffalo burgers. We walk inside and sit down. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and wash my hands.  The whole way there and back I am trying to figure out what I am going to do about this game tomorrow. Being the perpetual optimist I am hopeful that this date will get better, but being a stark realist as well, I realize that I have zero chemistry with this guy and now he's just a warm body reimbursing me for a ticket.  

I return to the table to find that he has asked the waitress to not only put on the Vikings football game, but has moved seats and positioned himself to watch the game. Great. Maybe this will cause him to stop talking or at least promote a conversation with some back and forth. We eat our burgers and he continues to tell me about his old job and how they owe him over $400K, his travels, yada yada yada.  

The only information he is getting about me, is information I am offering up so there is some form of a conversation and not a lecture about him.  He houses his burger and returns the first beer that he doesn't like for one that he finds more acceptable.  I am still working on my burger and pretending to fain interest in what he is saying. I find myself watching the football game just so there is something to talk about outside of him. He then proceeds to order dessert while I am still working on my lunch.  He works out on the piece of pecan pie, asks question number two for the day, "Do I want a bite?" I respond OK, accept to be polite and smile as I chew on this bittersweet dessert.

Lunch has now ended and we are only two hours into the day. He seems excited to be out and about in DC and I guess I am happy to have a tour guide? We wander up to the Capitol Building and he tells me about his previous work in DC. I ask questions about working for the government, what it's like living in DC and going to college there. I am trying to get some ping pong going in the conversation, but he just takes the question, answers it and moves on to talking about the next topic.  This process has now become punctuated with the periodic stop to get a picture - of him. In front of the capital, in front of Union Station, every couple of feet. At one point he offered to take a picture of me, but  instead of with my camera (which would have been cool) he takes it with his. I get a bit creeped out, and wonder what that picture will be used for later. I digress.

It's now rounding 5pm and he's not really sure what will be open at this hour.  We head to the National Botanical Gardens and since I mention (unsolicited) that I love flowers, and we think that this is probably one of the only places still open we decide to go inside because it's free. We wander through the Christmas exhibit impressed by the beautiful displays of flowers, Santa's train and the holiday decorations.  I feel some relief from the verbal battery, and though I am sweating like a whore in church under all my cold weather clothes in this terrarium, I am so happy that we are having a pleasant walk with lovely scenery. This, of course, is interrupted by the curator yelling that the place is closing, thank you for coming, and now it's time to go home. Dang. Now what.  

We exit the botanical gardens, and as fate would have it, it begins to rain. This does not faze me. I am dressed for crumby weather since it is December.  He, on the other hand, in his 1983 brown suede jacket is now panicked by the ensuing rain. He tells me that he's not sure that anything else is open now, and has no idea where to go, but we MUST get out of the rain to spare his coat. I look at him helpless for a suggestion. I thought we were going to tour the city.  I thought he knew his way around. I  thought perhaps he had a plan. NOPE. 

We walk back to Union Station. He wants to duck into a video store and check out DVDs.  I think I was up for anything at this point that didn't involve he and I having to have a conversation so I agreed and began to intently scour the DVD racks.  Five impulse-buy DVDs later we were leaving with still no idea where to go.  I tell him that perhaps now is a good time to begin to head back but he has a eureka and tells me that it's best to head to the Pentagon Mall.  I think it's like the mall where the museums are so I agree. 

We take the subway to get to this Pentagon Mall. I am excited to get to see something else cultural or artsy and make the most of this abysmal date. We get off the subway and I realize this is not a place of art and culture. It is just a mall.  REALLY? I am from New Jersey, the land of malls. I hate shopping. Wow. Now what. As we wander the mall he dips off into stores that interest him and I felt like I am being dragged around. I decided to step away for a few minutes and call Kristina.  He barely noticed I was gone. 

"Oh my God! This date is tanking, " I tell her. She tells me to hang on and just get through today and then once I am done with this date, we can formulate what to do with this guy, his ticket and me. I agree, hang up and proceed to find him eight stores away.  

I tell him that I am really in need of finding a bank, and perhaps we should venture outside the mall to try to find one. We do this only to realize that we were in Nowheresville, so to kill some more time he suggested that we wander through a kitchen and home goods store. REALLY? Could this get any worse? 

The hi light of this part of the trip is that they were giving away free cups of espresso that I capitalized on because I was glazing over like a doughnut. I suggest that perhaps we grab a lite bite to eat since it was nearly 8.30pm and restaurants probably closed at 9.  He tells me that he wasn't hungry, and I shared that with my blood sugar issues if we didn't eat something, I was destined to pass out.  He acquiesces to my request. 

We choose a Thai place to have dinner.  I had already decided that this was the last stop on the crazy train for today. I could punctuate the end of the date by claiming I was exhausted, needed travel time to get back and would easily be able to make my departure back to my hostel WITHOUT HIM in tow if we left from this subway hub. All of this was mentally arranged in my head BEFORE we even ordered. 

Thaiphoon, thank God, had a bar. I felt that I deserved a martini for the hell of a day I had endured.  He ordered Plum wine. I internally scoffed at his choice feeling that plum wine was the white zinfandel of the Asian world.  I feel that you should, as a bartender, be able to ask someone to leave your establishment if they order white zinfandel. It's grape juice with alcohol people! 

Returning to my nightmare of a date. . .  

We order a soup and an appetizer of dumplings to share since he's not hungry and I have a feeling it's going to be me picking up the tab.  He continues to go on about himself and his life living in Africa. He shares how he had created the online dating site profile while he was there to try to find women back home to get to know better because he didn't want to "go local", as he called it, and because it was free, he had no problem keeping this account for years. . .Well that explained the pictures from twenty years ago! 

He then proceeds to ask me if I knew about FGM. I know what it is, but I had no idea where this is going. I shared that I did, just to see where he's going with this. He then shares with me that after having "gone local", he decided this was not the best choice because his ego was bruised by these women when they didn't seem "satisfied" with his sexual prowess. He then shares that it must be the FGM because he's amazing in bed. REALLY? Is this conversation for dinner, let alone a first date? But he continued on. 

He had made a list of all the expats in the area and then figured out who was single, to pursue his hit list of potential partners.  OMG. Get me out of here! The night couldn't be over soon enough. How was I going to tackle another day with this guy? I had spent nearly $100 on a ticket; should I just eat the money? God damn it. The best laid plans. .  .

I start to yawn and tell him that I am exhausted and that I really should begin to make the journey back to my hostel. He offers direction on which train to take back, but doesn't offer to accompany me to make sure that I get back safe through what he called a "bad neighborhood." Whatever. I am over it. I'll take a mugging over another hour with this guy. 

He is still looking forward to the game and tells me that he is ready any time tomorrow AM to get our second day of touring the capital on.  I am exhausted by the thought alone. I wonder if he even realizes that I have NO INTEREST in him. 

The check comes and he stares at it with a "I paid for lunch and now it's your turn" stare. I pick up the check, pay for it, tip the waitress and we head for the door.  At the subway station he is solidifying plans for when we are to meet tomorrow.I am nodding in agreement with everything and am literally backing away to try to run to the subway and get on the first car that comes in. I wave goodbye and plaster a fake smile on my face.  As I sit down on the subway train I wonder how am I going to get through day two with this guy. . . 

(To Be Continued in the Next Blog tomorrow!!!)

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.