The Knight of Convenience

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

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

Was she single. Probably.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was resulting in an awkward silence. 

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

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

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

"Do you work out at all?"

"Ouch," I responded. Jokingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hells to the NO. I am outta here.

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

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

The Diplomat Knight (Part Deux)

The morning following my day in the trenches with the Diplomat Knight I sat straight up in my bed at roughly 5:30am.  I think the horror of what today could bring had woken me from a dead sleep.  The rest of my bunkmates in the hostel were tucked in their beds, sleeping peacefully . I was on the brink of a panic attack. My gears seemed to be going before I opened my eyes. 

What do I do? Do I sell the ticket on Craigslist? Do I go to the game and try to find a fan in the parking lot to sell it to? Do I just eat the $100? AND WHAT ABOUT TODAY! 

The Knight had mentioned when we were parting the day before, that he would have the whole day available today, and "wanted to try to get to see some of the museums today". This was not on my agenda at this point AT ALL. Mission for today was move the ticket, and come up with some excuse as to why I could not spend the day with him. 

First task: See if I can make lemonade out of this ticket business.  It was early in the morning and not too late to believe that I could sell/give away the ticket to one of my friends in Jersey or the surrounding states.  I began to reach out to anyone I could think of. I didn't care about the money, I cared about having a great night at a great game, and making the most of it.  I called and texted Giants fans back in Jersey to see if anyone wanted to come down for the game and a night of fun. The over arching sentiment was that I was insane for going to a game in Maryland, and no they couldn't drive 4+ hours to come with me.  DANG.

Next step: Craigslist.  I put up a post stating that I had one extra ticket, the price and my contact info. I felt like this had to work. Everyone sells things on Craigslist. . . this sucker is going to move! I calmed down a bit. I was willing to sit next to some complete stranger rather than this guy. 

Now I had to formulate an excuse as to why I could not be available for the day.  I can't say I am going back to Jersey because, well, if the ticket doesn't move than I'm stuck with it. I knew he was interested in seeing the game and had offered the money for the ticket yesterday, but I declined because it was one of the first things he mentioned, and stupid me had left the ticket at home. He had put his money away when I mentioned I didn't have the ticket and we both agreed that we could handle the money business the day of the game. Totally dumb move on my part. 

Excuses, excuses.  Where was I going to find one! 

He knew I could work remotely and had earmarked time for the game and touring this day, so how could I make it work related. . . Hmmmm.  

I don't like lying and I'm actually quite crap at it, so this was very difficult. How do I deep six the day together, but not put him off for the game if I don't get an opportunity to move this ticket. As I was mulling over my options the phone rang. It was him!! Ahhhhh!! Instinctually I picked it up before it went to voice mail. My mind was darting all over, combing my brain for excuses. I don't think my brain has ever been so vacant in my entire life. 

He was chipper and friendly.  He asked if I was ready to go into town in the next hour or so to begin walking around and seeing museums. 

"Um, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about that," I said sheepishly. 

Maybe you call it instinct; like the way a mother can pick up a sedan if her baby was stuck under it. Nearly as quickly as I was fishing for an answer in my head I had one materialize.

"I got a call from a colleague who is putting together a marketing plan for their company.  They have some crazy deadline to present it to their big wigs and they are freaking out because they need help with the social media part. They want to bring me in for that aspect of the business, which would be great for me, but this means that I am going to have to work on this project TODAY."

I was shocked at the ease with which this story rolled off my tongue. Who was I? I guess desperation had led me down a path of lying, and I was totally shocked at how believable it was.  

"Oh," he said.  "Will you still be able to go to the game?"

"I think so right no, but I will have a better idea around 2 today.  Does that work?"I asked.

"Sure. Give me a call then. I am going to go into downtown and probably go check out some museums."

Excellent. I had bought myself some time during the day to try to find someone to take this ticket, left the door open to go with him as a last resort and now had the day to myself.  I packed up my belongings, loaded up my car and caught a bus into downtown to have a wander for a few hours. 

I periodically checked my phone throughout the day to see if this ticket was getting any bidders on Craigslist. Nothing.

"Really," I thought. 

I had put a hard stop on heading out to the game around 6pm so that there was time for transit, a bite to eat and maybe even have a wander around the parking lot to see how Redskins fans tailgated. At 2pm he called to check in.   

"How's it going?" he asked.

"Umm, I am hoping to be done by 4pm. Can you ring me then?" I responded

"OK. Let's meet at the Air and Space Museum around 6pm. We can then go get a bite to eat, before we take the train to the stadium so dinner is not so expensive," he added.  

"Sure," I said.  

This gave me two hours to sell a ticket, get back to my hostel to get the tickets, dress for the game and head out. Damn. It really looks like I am going to end up going with this dude. Shit.

When 4pm arrived and I still had no takers on the ticket I gave up. I would just go with this guy to the game and suck it up. I was already hemorrhaging money between the stay, the drive, the tickets, hostel and meals. I was going to have to make this work. 

I rang him back at 4pm to confirm our plans for the evening. He carried on about his day, and I think I put the phone down trying to find the inner peace it would take for this event. I hung up and began to get ready. I was going to have to fight rush hour traffic in addition to all this other nonsense so it was best I got a move on.  

Stop number one on this crazy train: the liquor store. 

When going to a football game, this novel event it is marked with my ceremonious beer drinking. I enjoy having a beer in the parking lot, while wandering around the tailgating area to show my solidarity to those who are there drinking their faces off. I was also going to need a little boozy treat to make this man more bearable for what could be hours. Some people drink till he's cute. I was drinking so I didn't want to run screaming out of this game that I had worked so hard to get to. I knew I was breaking my two drink rule tonight, and I was totally OK with it.  To be funny, I picked up two 20oz cans of beer and a small plastic flask of Smirnoff vodka.  One for the road and one for the game. I was lock, stocked and ready to go! 

I began my journey to the Air and Space Museum to meet him. Rush hour traffic was a nightmare and it was taking way longer than I thought to get there. I had been texting him with my progress, to make sure that he knew I was coming. When I finally arrived at the museum I was over 45 minutes beyond the specced time, starving and dying to get to the game. He met me outside the museum, presented me with some space ice cream (which I love) and I remarked at what a nice gesture it was that he was so thoughtful.  Turns out the explained that this gift was part of a few packages of a multipack he purchased and were keeping for himself. Not so special after all. Here was the guy I knew from yesterday!! 

He asked if I had gotten something to eat. I said that I had not eaten dinner yet, and agreed it was a good idea to grab a bite before we got to the stadium.  He suggested McDonalds.  

"Um, no," I thought. 

I said that it wasn't really my thing, and perhaps we could stop somewhere on the way to the station. We ended up grabbing a bite to eat at a sandwich shop where I had a side salad and a roll and he got a three course meal. He graciously picked up my food as well as his dinner and I thanked him for his generosity.  

We boarded the train to the field,  which was filled with Giants fans!! I was decked out in my Giant's regalia from various kind friends who were supportive of this trip to see our boys play.  He mentioned to me on the ride out to the stadium that he was thinking of wearing his Vikings jersey. I couldn't figure out why he thought this was a good idea, but I smiled and nodded none the less.

As we arrived at the field I handed him his ticket and he paid me for it. It was like someone handing me freedom after years of captivity.  I was awash in emotion knowing now, no matter what happened, I just didn't care. I proceeded to reach into my bag and pull out one of my 20oz cans Miller Lite to celebrate. He looked startled and distressed at this.

"Aren't we going to get in trouble for drinking this in public," he asked.

"You don't work for the State Department any more. What do you care?  Here have one," and I handed him the other can. 

I had no idea about open container laws in the great state of Maryland, and nor did I care.  I was going to have a good night with or with out this dude. He took the can and began drinking his looking unsure if someone was going to come and cart him away to prison for this.  Now this was getting entertaining. 

We decided it was a good idea to wander around he parking lot for a while to check out how the fans tailgated in these parts, and kill some time before the game started. I was impressed at the number of Giants fans that were there.  Periodically we would walk past a group of Redskins fans that would heckle me for my slammin' Giants jacket and some friendly banter would be exchanged. Well, sort of. He would take this opportunity to sell me down the river and share with whomever that I was the Giants fan, and he, being a Vikings fan, had no ties to me or my affliction. Nice guy.

We finished our respective beers and took a few pictures outside the stadium and decided now it was going to be time to make our way into the game. He was dreading the "expensive beers" inside and I knew that this was a great opportunity to really get going with the fun.  Just to freak him out a bit more, I decided to go all hood on him.  

I whipped out my plastic bottle of vodka and proceeded to bend down and take off my shoe. 

"What are you doing," he asked.

"Oh yeah. I figured you may not want to pay for drinks inside, so I got us a bottle of vodka to split. I figure if I smuggle it in in my shoe, no one will notice." A big smile crossed my face as he seemed appalled at this.  Operation Ditch Date had gone into effect. 

I now walked with my "pimp walk" as I was calling it, because the bottle in my shoe was causing me to limp. I strolled through security and into the stadium like a boss. He said he needed to go to the bathroom, so I took this opportunity to head over to the concession stand and get my Diet Coke to spike. I got him and extra cup and we headed to our seats. 

As it turns out, our seats were right next to a pole.  He offered me the seat further from the wall since I was the Giants fan and he didn't really care about the game. I guess that was nice? I said we should move down a few rows till the other people got here so we could potentially sit there if they didn't show up. He begrudgingly moved down a few rows and I was now glued to watching the players warm up on the field. 

No sooner that we had done this but the folks who's seats they were showed up. It was a group of men and women, predominantly Redskins fans, with one Giants fan.  One of the guys in the group told me that we were in the wrong seats. I apologized for sitting in their seats and he told me he would let it slide because I was cute. I think I smiled at him because I thought he was cute too, and then took my albatross and moved down to our assigned seats back by the pole. 

As we settled in we took some pictures of the stadium and the teams warming up he decided that this was a good opportunity to take a walk around the stadium.  I said I was going to hang back and sit tight. I was excited at the opportunity to be alone because now it had gone from a running monologue like the day before to akward silence that neither of us really seemed to care for.  

While he was gone I asked the group of Redskins fans behind me if they would mind taking my picture.  The nice man in the group who had told me we were in his seats volunteered to take my picture "even though I was a Giants fan". We playfully heckled each other back and forth. He told me that he was going to convert me and that he was also going to get my phone number and take me out. I felt that this was bold but exceptionally sweet.  I was trying my best to not let his advances get to me, but I thought he was attractive and funny and therefore I made sure throughout the game to turn around and talk to his friend who was the Giants fan so we could also continue talking.  

The game went on like this.   The Knight wandered around taking pictures, talking with other people in our section and I spent a good portion of the game drinking, talking to the group two rows behind us and randomly hearing the dude who took the picture tell me things like he was going to take me out and make me his girl.  It was like a three ring circus. Everyone was buzzed with the exception of my date who had passed on the second and third rounds of drinks, so I was now picking up the slack and I was OK with that. He had made friends with two dudes that spoke only Spanish and was talking to them about their cameras and not even paying attention to the game. I could have cared!

At some point during the game when my date had gone for another wander/bathroom break/to politic with those in my section, the guy two rows behind me leaned over to talk to me again and invited me to sit with him.  I expressed to him that he was sweet, but I was on a date, and even if I did want to sit with him and his friends there were no seats where he was. He offered that I could sit on his lap.  This guy was phenomenal! I told him he was only hitting on me because he was drunk, and he told me I was a beautiful woman and it had nothing to do with his drinking. He didn't care I was on a date with some other dude, he was trying to pick me up anyway. 

I was seriously considering ditching my date and sitting with them! 

Now that I had a pretty good buzz on this seemed like an even better idea. I began thinking in my head, "If I just make out with the guy behind me, then my date will probably leave, or at least ignore me for the rest of the night."

Clearly this was the alcohol talking and I'm now realizing that I have a long trip back to my hostel, and I need to have my wits about me. I've got to pull the plug on this game/date from hell and get back to my hostel before I am sleeping in the parking lot here. 

The Knight arrives back to our seats and I decree that I never stay for the fourth quarter (again, this is the booze talking). It's late, I'm tired, and I don't want to miss the one and only last train from the stadium when the throngs of people let out.  He can't believe that I want to go.  I tell him I am going to go and he's welcome to come or stay.  

As I got up to get ready to leave, I begin to say goodbye to all the new friends I had made in our section. I hug and kiss goodbye the nice Spanish men next to us and the Redskins fan from two rows behind me sees do this and tells me HE wants a kiss goodbye. For whatever reason, I acquiesce to his request and kiss him on the cheek goodbye as well.   He proceeds to shove a phone in my hand.  He tells me that I have to give him my number so he can call me to take me out. I write in his phone notes: "The Redskins can suck it" and put in my email.  Let's see if he remembers who I am tomorrow!

I stop by the concession stand to grab a hot dog and the Knight goes to the bathroom for the umpteenth time.  I have resolved that as soon as I eat this hot dog, I am off like a shot for the train by myself.  No sooner do I do an about face to figure out what exit to go out, but I run right smack into him. Foiled again! He then takes the liberty of eating the rest of my hot dog. 

I am just as cooked as this dog now.

We proceed to the parking lot and begin walking towards where I think the entrance to the train is. He thinks it's the opposite direction. I tell him that he is not right, and that I am going to walk the direction I am headed because I am sure that I know where I am headed. He takes off to look for signs for the train and that was the last I saw of him.  I am not sure who ditched who, but I walked the way I thought would get me to the train, hid behind a pole so he wouldn't see me at the station and boarded the train back to downtown DC. 

I arrived in downtown DC at roughly 1am. I had no idea where I was in relation to getting back to my hostel and was a little freaked out.  The mall where the Smithsonian was was vacant like I was the last person on earth.  I began walking towards where I thought there may be civilization. Nearly 35 minutes later, I hailed a cab that ultimately took me back to my hostel. Home safe finally. What an adventure!

The following morning around 8:30am I got an email from the Diplomat Knight .

Hey there, 
I tried to find you after we left the stadium but you were no where to be found. It was nice to meet you. Be well.

The pictures of the day before were attached. I guess this is the email I expected and was grateful that clearly both of us knew that this was the last correspondence we would ever have. 

A few days later I was on Facebook and got a friend request from the super sweet man from the football game. Not only this, but as fate would have it, he had emailed me twice during the game after I gave him my email. I never thought to look for the emails because my phone had died and the following morning I was in such a rush to get home, I all but forgot that I had given him the email that I rarely checked. I guess I called him "panoramic" instead of photogenic or who knows. We had all been drinking. . .

Subject: Hey, panoramic dude from the game

Wanted to message you now before a result of the game because I might not want to after lol

Subject:  Still the panoramic guy

Just wanted to let you know you missed an amazing 4th quarter... And I hop to hear from you :)

Remember. . . I love persistence.  

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!