The Knightess

Happy 2014! 

Long before I ever decided to do this dating blog, I had erected an online profile on a dating site to try to meet people when I lived in Oz. I found that after a few dates with Australian men I had nothing in common with, I all but forgot about this profile. One day when I was back living in the US, I realized that I had this dating profile out there and decided I would investigate if it had better opportunity for me now that I was back in the States.

As I put in the criteria for my search of who was online dating in NJ I mistakenly hit "women seeking women" instead of "women seeking men." As a bevy of women's profiles popped up, I thought to just close out of search and start over.  Then, for a reason I am still not sure of, I began to read a few of the profiles.

Now. . . my sexual preferences didn't just magically change over night. That is not what caused me to put a toe into the lady pool. You see, when I really like a person, I find it is the person I really like. Not if they are male or female, not if they are rich or poor, not if they have a powerful job or if they are a pauper. It doesn't matter to me. What matters is that I have feelings for that person, love who they are, and want to be with them.  

My mother raised me telling me that she didn't care if I came home with men or women, just that my hair had to be longer than the guys. I grew my hair as long as I could, and I felt free to date anyone. With my European approach to sexuality I spent my whole life appreciating the beauty of women. I didn't think it was weird to think women were attractive in the same way I thought of men, and because of that, I believed that dating, for me, could encompass an individual from either of these groups.  

This mentality has caused me to have great, healthy relationships of varying degrees with both men and women. I wouldn't classify myself as gay or heterosexual; I don't know that I would even call myself bi-sexual. I would say I am an opportunist who just loves people. 

Or maybe I'm a human squid. I hear they don't have a preference either. 

Getting back to my Knightess. . . 

I had sworn off dating women for what I thought was going to be forever after I met a woman a number of years ago I truly loved and cared. I thought that, after her, I would no longer date women as a way to sort of commemorate the way I felt about her. I didn't want to ever feel like I was replacing what I had with her with anyone else, so I just put my interest in women on a shelf after our relationship and thought I would never dust it off again. 

But here I was, a few years later, wondering if holding a torch for a past relationship was the best idea. I took a look through some of the profiles of the women on the site. Maybe there were two dozen women seeking women. There were no where near as many profiles as there were of men. I peered through a number of profiles and found the same result as I did with a lot of the men I saw on the site: There were a lot of great people out there, maybe just not the great person for me. As I was about to give up my search entirely I came across a profile that stopped me in my tracks. 

She had just one picture and she was smiling like the Mona Lisa in it. She had this cool chick air about her that seemed to be tempered with a good sense of self that was somehow easily conveyed in this lone picture. As I read her profile she seemed to be a down to earth person, who was an entrepreneur, with a myriad of varying interests and a positive outlook on life.  I looked back at her pictures; she was beautiful. She had long brown hair, light eyes along slender face and slim build painted with tattoos.

I decided I was going to throw caution to the wind and send her an email to see if she might have any interest in me. I told her that I had seen her profile and it had caught my attention. I can't recall all the specifics because it pre-dates my blog notes, but the exchange via email was kinda just a "thought I would say hi". To this day, I can't recall what she sent me back, but whatever it was, it got us texting and emailing for quite sometime.

For a year we exchanged text messages and phone calls.  A year.

She would call me and we would joke about how we were never going to meet.  I would tease her about her schedule being worse than mine somehow. She sent me smiling pictures of her out in the sunshine, and I sent her pictures of me in my bartending blacks.  It was a sweet friendship that just always had "to be continued" embossed on it.

Throughout all of this, we had never tried to get together to meet. I don't know what we were afraid of, or even if it was just bad timing. . .We just never even seemed to bring up getting together.

With all this time passing in between our communications, I had started writing this dating blog. I think that I either told her I was writing it, or she saw that I was the author of it.  She would joke about what I was going to write about her if we ever went out. I thought that we were never going to get together so it wasn't really a concern of mine. . .

After we had crested just beyond a year of periodic phone calls and random text messages she told me that this couldn't go on anymore: we had to meet.

We were two single people, neither of us were seeing anyone, and it seemed like our schedules were going to finally allow this meeting to happen.

I agreed with her that meeting was a stellar plan.

We agreed upon a late lunch.  We both owned our own companies and could have a long lunch if we so wanted.  Go us entrepreneurs.

When I arrived at Urban Table she was running late. I was happy to sit and surf Pinterest till she got there (as I now find it a hobby like some would needlepoint).

When she arrived she was cloaked in her long wool jacket and a scarf. It was particularly cold for this time of year and she was as bundled as I was for our evening.

She immediately spotted me, came over waved and plunked herself down across from me.  I think that for the first few minutes we both just sort of stared at each other nearly in disbelief that we were finally meeting.

As she took off her coat and got comfortable we made small talk about the weather, our arrivals there and our respective days to this point. I immediately felt at ease talking to her. . .Something even MADE ME want to talk to her like I had known her my whole life.  I would say it was the months of back and forth mini communications, but it wasn't that. She was like Oprah or Barbara Walters: You just wanted to tell her your life story and you weren't really sure why.  Maybe it was the way that she asked questions that made me feel like I was the only person in the whole building.  Maybe it was how engaged she looked when she listened to what I had to say.  Maybe it was because, for once, she seemed to be running the show as far as questions and the flow of the conversation.  She seemed inquisitive about legitimately getting to know me, and genuinely interested in what I had to say.

I think my Knightess could definitely replace her on daytime TV. 

I, was equally fascinated by her.  At times we both had questions for the other and had to politely excuse ourselves for cutting the other off. We had so much to share. Stories of our travels, our friends, our businesses, our dating experiences. We had so much in common! I think that the only things that we didn't agree on were that she loved coffee and I didn't, and she had a small of militia of pets that I was potentially deathly allergic to.

Our lunch date turned into afternoon drinks.  Our afternoon drinks now turned into an early dinner as the sun set. I think that the waitstaff even changed hands to the night shift and we were still sitting there sipping our martinis, and chatting. I think that we may have barely drank our first drinks because we were chatting away so much.

This was a great date!!

I found out that we had both dated men and women and how interesting it was that we had found each other.  "What are the chances," I thought.

One of us looked at our watches.  It was nearly 8pm in the evening. We had set out for this date HOURS ago. There was some work that she had to do, and I still had some things that I needed to wrap up for clients for my work.

My initial feelings of skepticism of going out with another woman had totally washed away.  Maybe this could work out. . .We had so much in common and seemed to want the same things. . .The only tough part seemed to be our schedules being so demanding of us.  It took us over a year to get together, but here it was, seemingly well worth it.

As we were departing the restaurant we went back and forth who would walk who to their car.  She won: we ended up walking me to my car. Our night ended as most date movie endings do.  She and I both stood by my car kicking stones, shimming our legs nervously, shuffling in place doing the "when do we get to go out again" dance. We determined that we had a great time and we should see where this went moving forward.  I agreed. This had been one of the best dates I had been on. She stepped in and gave me a big hug and kissed me goodnight.  I was entirely OK with this.

We were like high school kids saying good night. We backed away from each other waving goodbye and smiling.  I was really happy that we had finally decided to get together.

As I got into my car I noticed that I felt flush. I thought perhaps it was the feel good high I was on.  As I put the key in the ignition I couldn't help but keep blinking and squinting my eyes because they were itching.  By the time I was half way down the block, my hands, my neck and my face were itching terribly and covered in red swollen hives.  I was now starting to wheeze.

HOLY SHIT. I AM HAVING A MASSIVE ALLERGIC REACTION!!

As my left eye started to swell up and my throat itched like I was being rubbed with sandpaper it occurred to me: This had happened before with my friends that had cats and dogs that I was allergic to.

In the past I had occasions where I hugged someone goodbye and the cat or dog fur that was on their coat or shirt threw me into an allergic fit.  Tonight was no different. I guess her scarf or jacket had some of her pet's fuzz on them and when she hugged me goodbye, wa la.

Yes. I am really that allergic to fuzzy creatures.

How could this be!! Everything had been magic!

As I drove off itching and scratching, fumbling for my emergency Benadryl and inhaler, I couldn't help but feel like this dating thing was just never going to work out for me :(

The Paratrooper Knight

I love military men: they wear uniforms, they can shoot guns, they are usually pretty darn fit. Strangely enough Veteran's Weekend was just that for me with the dating adventure. I had received an email from a man who was just back from the military, lived nearby and was interested in meeting me if I "dated men his age". I see nothing wrong with 26. . . maybe I am getting into my Puma years.

His profile handle was bizarre, but I figured if he was in the military it was probably one of their nick name things and just kept reading. When I read his profile it was brief. He was just recently out of the military with an engineering background, looking for a job and figured he'd try out the online dating thing. We had corresponded a few times back and forth and decided that we were going to meet for a drink after my night job on Sunday night. I left it up to him as to where to meet and he picked The Office in Morristown.  I had not been there in a while and loved the beer selection so I agreed.  If all else failed I could get some wings and a beer and make the most of it.

On the off chance that the date was a total bust and I wanted to get out of this date early I had reached out to my friend who I knew would be in town for Sunday Funday. I was scheduled to meet my date at 7pm. I had told my friend to call at 8:30 to check in.  If I told him "I was busy" and "what's up," he was to get me out of the sticky situation with some call for help. If I told him that "all was well" then he could go back to drinking his Miller Lites and rock on without me.  I truly do have the best friends.

I arrived at the bar at just after 7.  I sat down and took a look at the beer list. I couldn't decide on one so I went with a glass of Chenin Blanc (You never find places that serve it these days and here it is at the Office? Wow.) I received a text asking where I was sitting and I sent back that I was the girl in the scarf at the end of the bar. Shortly after 7:10 I see someone walk up next to me. Now, the next three steps that happened I have only ever seen in movies. He walked up to the bar, looked dead straight on at the bartender, ordered a drink, she brought it and he throws back a big gulp.

When was the last time you saw that happen? A Western. Yeah. Never in real life.

He then turns to me, and just starts in with a conversation about I'm not sure what. Maybe it was about the parking, I don't know. All I know was that I was in shock and awe of the fact that that sequence of things happened so seamlessly. He proceeds to sit down on the bar stool, and continue sipping his beer. I was a bit put off that he just showed up and downed half his beer upon arrival with not so much as a "hi", but maybe this guy was nervous.

Now that I can focus on him and not the beer commercial that just unfolded, I realize how very tall this man is. Another secret. I love tall men.

It's not hard for me to. I am 5'4 and pretty much everyone is taller than me, so I feel that does not rule out a large group of people. I am just from the shallow end of the gene pool in the height department
and my children should have a chance at being able to see over a crowd.

I realize that not only is this man very, very tall (I think his profile said 6'7) but all of his features are very tall? His fingers unfurl when he goes to grab his beer. Somewhere in the back of my mind I keep asking myself, "Is it the size from thumb to pinkie or 3 of their thumbs in a row." I start wondering if I am sitting next to a descendant of Ron Jeremy if either of these theories are true.  I snap back to reality and he is talking about how he had gotten out of military just recently and was living at home while he was looking for a job.

I notice that while he is speaking he's blinking and rolling his eyes and the facial gestures just don't seem to be in sync with the conversation.

I try not to focus on looking at him directly in the eyes just in case this is a nervous tick. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable.  I figure if I start to ask some questions he is comfortable with, maybe it will even out this whole weird start to the date. I ask why he joined the service, what division he was in and what he enjoyed most about it. He confessed that he loved that he was stationed over seas where he had a chance to learn a new language and to surf. We began to talk about surfing and it seemed like it was turning into a normal conversation.

I did notice that when he spoke he made grand gestures with his hands and his long fingers curled and unfurled wildly. It was nearly distracting to concentrate on what he was saying because you wanted to see what his fingers did next! At points when he was depicting things, it looked like he could have been conducting the New York Philharmonic. I think maybe I am just over reacting, but he tells me during the course of our conversation he was told not to gesture during interviews because he intimidates people. And well, it's sort of intimidating me.

Now while all of this is going on he has finished off two beers, I have had my wine and he has paid for them. Points.

He asks for another beer and I order a club soda. At this point I think that I am going to stay a while. We had a great conversation about surfing, traveling and I am thinking I don't even need my call. He asks if I am going to have another glass of wine and I think "sure, why not, I think I will stay".

"Yes, please". The bartender brings another drink and I offer to pay for this round. She then asks if we will be having anything to eat, he says no, and I figure, OK Chenin Blanc for dinner it is. He starts talking about how all there was to do on the military bases was drink. I worry that this is his hobby.

I ask him to tell me more about his time in the military and what he may have enjoyed about his training.  Apparently this man was a paratrooper. Yes, as in someone who WILLINGLY jumps out of a plane. I talk to him about this very fact. What makes a sane person jump out of a plane? "Your superiors" he tells me.  This makes sense. This to me is the most revolting activity I can imagine.



I once went canyoning in Interlaken, Switzerland (see below). For three hours you were spelunking through dark caves, climbing 80 meter walls, repelling down sheer cliff faces and swimming through bone chilling glacial water with Sven and Ven who would tell you things like "jump to the left so you don't break your leg."  After jumping off cliffs that were 80 and 100 meters up, it was enough for me to swear off skydiving forever and seek counseling for what was NOT an Action Park adventure. And here sits this man who was happy to just willing to throw himself out at a height I could barely comprehend. We chatted about this for a while and by the end of the conversation I had begun to reconsider my no skydiving stance.

Now due to the success with the recent past conversations I assume that asking about this man's hobbies will reveal more conversation provoking information and ideally we will end up watching the Bears v. Texans game that is due on at 8:30.  I have also written off the emergency phone call at this point, but have done nothing to stop it. It is roughly 8pm.  I turn to him and casually ask, "What are your hobbies?" He tells me he doesn't have any. I ask if he had any in college - "no," he responds.  I ask him if he had any in high school.  He responds "no" again. Hmmm. This is getting tough. I ask him what keeps him positive or what he is passionate about. He tells me that he is not in any way a positive person. He always believes the negative is going to happen and that it gives him anxiety.  Oh jeez I think. Who actually comes out and says "I believe in the negative in everything and I have absolutely no interests". I realize that we are sitting on the precipice of the date. This is where we went from a good time to barreling down the cliff of "This Is Going to Suck".  THANK GOD THE PHONE RINGS.  I pick up - "Hello, everything OK," I ask.  My friend on the other end of the line begins "I'm really wasted and I need you to come and pick me up."

Here is the phone call to end all phone calls and I am so very grateful.

I politely excuse myself from the bar where I am sitting with this man to step a few feet away, just out of earshot.

"Really," I say.  "You are wasted and need me to come get you?"

"My girlfriend is pissed at me and I can't drive myself home and I need you to come and get me," he replies.

At this point I am truly unsure if he is wasted and needs my help because he knows I am available (potentially) at 8:30 or he's not, in which case I am calling him an agent. This is an Emmy winning performance if he is not, in fact, wasted.

"OK. Just sit tight and I will be by shortly. I am just going to wrap up here," I respond as I slide back into my bar seat, "and I will be right by to get you."

"Wow," I comment to my date. "I guess my buddy had a little too much Funday on Sunday and he's ready to go home and can't drive. He knows that I was going to be in town and asked if I could come by and pick him up. My date remarks "Oh, OK." Before this gets akward I have to capitalize on this opportunity! I apologize for having to get up and leave in such a hurry.  We both finish our drinks and he walks me out. I thank him for a lovely night, wish him well and head off down the street to investigate this quizzical phone call.

I make it down the street to the 'Hopper where I see my group of friends. There sits my friend, drink in hand. I can't tell from this distance if he is well or he has officially zoned out for the evening. I look at my clock. The date was exactly one hour and 15 minutes. I think that that is some sort of new record and I should call Guinness.

"Are you OK?" I ask. "Of course I am OK," he replies.  "You said to call."

I have to giggle. I hug him and thank him and think, "Thank God I had a parachute for that jump."