The Persistent Knight

I was going to post a blog about another date that I had recently but this date was definitely material that I had to get on paper ASAP. If you have been following the blog, you will recall that I mentioned that there was a Persistent Knight. The following date recap is the date I had with him.  The back story needs to be shared so you can better appreciate exactly why this was just  way too much. Let's start at the beginning if you will.

This Knight had started emailing within the first two weeks I was on the dating site. He would send messages without punctuation, that were running monologues guised as an introduction. 

"i want to take you out and show you what a great date i can be and treat you like a queen and go to dinner and have the best time ever because you are a beautiful girl and i know you will like me and i will like you and we will be happy on our date. . . ." You get the picture. It was frustrating to read, but who am to be dusgrammatòfòbic and not give someone who may be a great person with bad grammar a chance. 

Since they all looked pretty much like the message above, part of me wanted to meet this man that had no regard for the English language.  I send him an email agreeing to meet and have dinner as he has requested. He immediately emailed me back. He wanted to make sure I knew that he was going to take me on the greatest date ever and that I was going to have the time of my life.

I live by the motto - "Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Since this gentleman was seemingly doing just that, who would want to turn down the best date they ever had in their life. Not me! It's been a tough go with the first 9 dates and well, maybe 10 is a magic number. 

I proceeded to give him my phone number so he can text me. This began the texting leading up to the date. In the beginning he would text in the morning to ask how my day was.  Sweet.  

He would text on a Friday to see how my weekend was. That’s lovely.  

He text me to ask how my Thanksgiving was. All very nice. 

As the date drew nearer, the texts were more often and sometimes rambling.  A few were confirming I still wanted to go on the date with him. Where should we go? What time? All normal texting back and forth between two people setting up an evening out.  

During this time he had called twice and both times I was either driving or in the middle of work. I hadn’t really gotten to talk to him either time because I wasn’t well equipped to talk, but he didn’t seem to mind. To be polite I answered a few questions, talked briefly and then reminded him that I was at work, driving or working heavy machinery and I should probably focus on what I was doing. 

A few days before the date was when the text messages started getting odd.  He asked what I did at night.  (I think that some of these guys must think I am a hooker. Not sure if that's what they are looking or or not). 

I explained to him that I bar tend at night. This resulted in a eight bubble long stream of text messages from him about how he always ends up with bartenders and how much he likes his martinis. Hmmm.  Some people overshare. Maybe he's an avid typist. . .I text that I will call him later. 

Shortly there after he texts again about how he’s excited about the date. I think I sent I was too with a smiley face.  The following day the daily text has a concerned tone. He’s ready to meet; am I still sure I still want to.  He tells me it's cool if I don’t want to, but can I call him to talk about it.  I call him and re assure him that I am still willing to meet.  He suggests we meet in Sayreville, which according to him, is halfway between Morristown and where he is from.  Visiting Sayreville is not in my plan this week. I suggest Jersey City. He says why not the Grasshopper in Morristown.  Odd that he chose this as our place for the date of a lifetime, but he explains that his buddies had been there before and recommended it for the Irish food. I agree that it is a great spot and we have decided to meet at 7:30 on a Monday night.

I get a text from him at 7:15 asking if I am at the Hopper yet. I send back that I am “nearly” there.  I arrive at 7:26pm and park my car in the lot next to the restaurant.  I end up having to park at a meter and realize I have no quarters. Not only am I quarter less but the meter will run till 12pm and it's not even 8.  Faaaa.  

I shove some dimes in the damn machine and make a mental note that I will have to get quarters at the bar soonish. I have a eureka. If this all goes to shit, I can say I forgot to put quarters in my meter and bolt.  OK, emergency parachute ready. I haven’t arranged for an emergency call tonight but feel since the Hopper has always been my extended living room, I should be able to get out of any not so great situation pretty easily. I gather myself and focus on the possibility that this could be the best date of my life, take a deep breath, and head towards the restaurant.   

I enter the front door and I immediately see my date at the bar. He is a good looking man. He has black hair with a bit of salt and pepper hi light. He has great steel blue eyes.  He stands a little bit taller than I am in my heels and is dressed in nice jeans, a buttondown, leather jacket and scarf.  He looks incredibly inviting and smiles warmly at me.  I felt a bit more relaxed by the warm reception.  He says, “Chris?,” and I greet him with a "hello". 

Here’s where I make the first mistake.

I see he has a beer sitting on the bar. I tell him to hang at the bar for a minute while I get some quarters from the bartender and go out and put them in my meter. I let him know that all the meters are till 12am (in case he didn’t know), and ask him if he needs any quarters for his car. He tells me he's not going to bother, so I proceed to tell him I will be right back. 

Now, any reasonable person knowing what I know NOW would have just left. I am the unsuspecting victim in this. 

I put two quarters in the meter only to find out that it's eaten the first and is specific meter is only a 30 minute meter. I should have stopped what I was doing and just got in my car and left when it only allowed for 30 minutes.  It was a sign from the universe. Did I acknowledge it?  NOPE. I move the car to a meter where they are till midnight. I foolishly feed the meter till midnight and hope for the best. He's cordial, nice looking and smiles a whole lot. This could go well!

When I return to the bar he magically has produced a flower in a plastic wrapping. He hands it to me and tells me he "wanted to see me first to see if I was worth it." 

"Glad I made the cut?" I think to myself as I try to maintain a smile. I thank him and tell him it was a lovely gesture. I ask if he wants to sit upstairs where we can hear each other better. He agrees and we make small talk while we are waiting to be seated. He is complimentary and keeps telling me I look better than my pictures. I say thank you each time, feeling no less embarrassed.  

Immediately when we sit down he starts in with one of what will be the three key phrases this evening. 

1.  "I didn't know what to make of you."

2.  "Ask me anything, I am the most honest person you will ever meet."

3.  "So we are going to go out again, right?"

Keep these in mind, like when you watch Pulp Fiction knowing that each scene either has food, religion or bathrooms. Pepper this through the following coverage of the conversation roughly every eight minutes, or till you want to scream. Then you will really feel how painful this was.

What? You never heard this theory before?

**If you are hard up for a parlor game this weekend, you can turn this into a drinking game. Every time I reference phrase 1, 2 or 3, you get to drink. . . I hope you have no where to be.**

Hey man, we got a new game! Bring  your 'puter!

We sit down and the waitress comes to get our drink order. He orders a vodka martini and I get a glass of Pinot Grigio.  (2) I ask him to tell me about his work. (2) He tells me he has been in construction for some time and he enjoys it.  (1) He tells me that he wasn't sure what I was going to be like from my pictures because they were all different. (1) He wasn't sure if I was really who I was in my profile. (1) He asks me how I think the date is going. (1)(2) 

I feel like I am on a date with Joe Gorga. He has a thick Hudson county accent and all the hallmarks of the Vinnie Gombatz that I have successfully evaded all these years. Yet here I sit. Lucky me.

"When I was 20 I would have made my way through this whole bar to get with you"

During our conversation he has been perched on the edge of his seat and it makes me a bit nervous. At points when he talks I wonder if he is going to leap right off the seat and tackle me. (2) He keeps asking me to ask him questions. I go through all the usual: Where did you go to school? Have you always lived in NJ? What do you enjoy most about your job? What do you do with your spare time? What hobbies do you have? Where do you enjoy vacationing? (2) The list goes on and on and I am running out of questions. With each pause in the conversation he asks if I am having a good time, if I am what he hoped for and (3).  I feel like I should throw in a different answer other than "yes" just to mix it up and see if he's paying attention. 

He now tells me that he wants to know everything about me.

"Tell me about yourself because. . . "(1) he would really like to take me out again if I meet his expectations. He asks if I have ever been married (1). I tell him "they keep asking, I keep saying no" to be funny.  He seems to get a bit upset. He wants to know if I am dating anyone and what is wrong with me that no one else is if I am not, in fact, dating someone else. (3) REALLY? Can't I ask the same of him?

I explain I have just gotten back into the dating thing recently and yes, I am dating, but there is not one person that I am involved with. I am just seeing what is out there and how it goes. 

This does not seem acceptable to him. He doesn't like girls that date around and that is not what he is looking for. I explain that I am happy dating and if he doesn't like it, I guess I'm not the girl for him.  Hoping that this comment will wrap up the date, I begin to look for the waitress to bring the check. She comes by and he orders another martini and me another glass of wine. Dang! He was unfazed by the comment AND I am still here. 

He now starts in with what will now be the fourth running theme of the date:  "If we were together."

If we were together and:

- I wanted to get married

- I wanted to have kids

- I wanted to go salsa dancing

- I was being hit on by another man

- he was approached by another woman

- I wasn't sure what squash to buy

And the list goes on.

I think that he covered each and every scenario where we could be dating on a Tuesday afternoon or  through a life altering event. He also has an answer as to what he would do in each and every scenario. In turn, he asks what I would do. This is bizarre. I am just at a loss for responses and this doesn't make him happy. I explain to him that I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants" sort of girl, and I don't make long running  expectations or commitments sometimes because life always has a way of changing things and laughing at us. 

He is still baffled by this. 

"So if we were together a year from now, and I wanted to have a kid with you, (I'd give you a kid, he says) you don't know if that is something that you want to do?" he asks.

I reply the same answer that I tell EVERYONE.

 "I have never thought long and hard about kids because I don't think you go into a Benz dealership with $5 in your pocket," I reply. 

"It's great to dream big but when you are grounded in reality, you see things for what they are. Applying the same principal; I have not yet been with a person that I would want to have a child with and therefore I have not thought about having kids." 

What I really want to close with is -  "And if you think that we would ever have a kid together your ludacris," but I refrain.

Bada-bing, bada-boom

He then states that if I'm not sure about having a kid "at my age, you might as well give up on the idea all together."  

"What?" he replies. "You're gonna wanna be chasing a 15 year old at 50? Even if we got together and had a kid within the next year it still doesn't make any sense."

I had her just last month.

I am now livid. I am trying my best to not appear as angry as I am. I'm charming, I'm charming, I'm charming, I keep repeating to myself. It's very difficult, however, to live this mantra  when I think that this is the most insane thing I have ever heard.  

Yep ladies, if you are over 30 you should just pack up your reproductive organs and call it quits. Clearly this man knows everything and according to him we will be too busted in the next 15 years to chase your little ones so just forget having a kid and get a fish instead. 

Yeah, don't even bother.

I have to take a moment. I know I said I may not want to have a family but I have a great disdain for those who tell me how I should live. Between the aggressive questioning, the bizarre situational "what if's" and now the baby bashing talk I've nearly had it. I want this date to be over. 

He is unfazed entirely. He has not registered my demeanor chaninging or perhaps he doesn't even care. I now begin to pull out my phone to look at the time. I rub my eyes and yawn a bit. He orders a 3rd martini. JESUS! I just wanna go!

I tell him that it is a work night, nearly 10pm and I turn into a pumpkin if I am not home by 10:30.  I am trying my best to just get the hell out of this seat. He keeps asking me if we will go out again.(2) He's asking for dates of when I am free and wants to take me to NYC and salsa dancing. Super, great, wonderful. Can the waitress please bring the fucking check! It's the end of the night and I think she can feel me burning holes in the back of her shirt. The waitress comes over and politely drops off the check. 

I offer to pay for my portion of the meal and he says he has it. I offer to leave the tip. He says not to worry about this. I can pay for the trip to NYC. Yeah buddy.  You betcha.

I think I am in the clear because we are now getting up from the table and making progress towards the front door. He walks me out the door and makes me promise for the umpteenth time that I will go on a second date with him. I would have sworn to ANYTHING at that point just to go home. 

He then attempts to kiss me. I give him the cheek.  

This upsets him yet again. 

"I can't get a kiss goodnight?" he asks, shocked. 

There is a better chance of me waking up tomorrow a large, gay, black man. 

I tell him I am old fashioned and besides, I have to give him something to look forward to with the next date. He doesn't let it go and brings up conversations (1) and (2) and then tells me he is holding me to a second date. He wants me to re assure him, yet again that I have had a good time, I like him and we're going on a second date; so I do. I thank him for a lovely night out and head to my car. 

I get home and shortly there after a hailstorm of texts rain down on me.  

For anyone who thinks I am being picky or too cranky, choosy, whatever. Here are the messages received post apocalyptic date:

My reply to this text message massacre was "I am sleeping," which I was.

Later in the day, I sent him a text saying that I had a great date, and thought he was a great guy but I just didn't' think that we were compatible. (Thank you Meaghan S for the suggestion.) I wished him the best of luck in his search to find someone that would be wonderful to him. Warm regards, C

The text I got back asked me what was not compatible about our personalities. He also wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to tell anyone so his reputation would remain intact. I just made like I never saw the message and deleted it. I'll be avoiding Hudson county for some time now.

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."