INTERNET DATES FROM HELL (19 page)

As fate would have it, I slept like a log. Eight hours went by like eight minutes. I can’t remember the last time I slept that soundly! Normally I am up at least one or two times for a variety of reasons. Since the sun hadn’t come up yet (because November in New York is the second darkest month of the year due to daylight savings time), I triple-checked my clock radio to make sure it was 5:30 AM. Then I hit the floor running. Before I knew it, I was in my car heading toward the Midtown tunnel, humming an old Police song, “Message in a Bottle.” Over and over again I sang the words, “Sending out an SOS.” By the third time, my cell phone rang. Since I was already halfway through the tunnel, the cell screen displayed “No Service.” “Damn,” I thought to myself.”Who the hell could that be at this early hour in the morning?” There’s only one thing worse than a late night phone call, and it’s the evil twin—the early morning one. They both spell trouble. By the time I emerged on the Long Island City side of the tunnel, I calmed myself and became more focused with the day ahead. No one in his right mind would call me at this time of the day, or would he?

I nervously attached my hands-free phone earplugs in the event that the caller would try again. Before Sting could get the second chorus of “Roxanne” out, the phone rang. “It’s him,” I thought despairingly. But it wasn’t. It was just my friend Charlene, also a fellow teacher, calling to inform me that she had just called in sick and was wondering if I could help the sub find her emergency plans.

“No problem,” I answered. “Do you have bus duty today? In that case, I’ll call you at 3:30. Feel better,” I added.

“Phew,” I thought to myself. “Thank God, it wasn’t Tom. I don’t know what I would have done if it were.”

The day went by without a hitch. Charlene’s succinct plans were in the top drawer of her desk, where she feared they weren’t. The sub needed no assistance. Just as well, I thought to myself. Looking at Charlene’s replacement, I thought, where on earth did they dig up this old fossil? She had to be at least eighty-two years old! Just like the night’s sleep, the day went smoothly. I was in the car headed home when I turned on my cell phone. I noticed that I had two messages! Impulsively listening, at first I couldn’t identify the voice, but then he said his name was Tom. He asked me to call him back on his cell or his work number. I decided to wait until I got home to make the call. To this day I even remember the time I called him—4:45 PM—just catching him before he left work.

The conversation went well and we spoke for over an hour. I know that I recommended keeping the first phone conversation short; however, in this case I made an exception because our conversation felt so natural. I used the opportunity to learn more about Tom. For instance, he lived on his own and was a homeowner. That cleared my concern regarding men still living at home with their parents. I also found out that Tom was born and raised in Hamburg, Germany. His voice was pleasing. I sensed a slight accent. He was certainly scoring points in my book! As we chatted, as crazy as this sounds, I couldn’t think of anything other than the possibility of him being my future husband. I know I have said this before, but this time I actually felt it. As we spoke, I looked at his picture, and I could sense an immediate bond. We felt equally comfortable discussing everything from music to family to films, and we planned to meet that coming Tuesday.

Due to some poorly prepared Indian cuisine that I had insisted on having the night before, I awoke to terrible stomach pains. “Great,” I thought to myself, “I’m going to have to cancel what might be the most important date in the last six years.” I called Tom from work to ask for a rain check. I sensed some disappointment in his voice. To provide some reassurance that I was still interested in meeting, I told him that we could talk on the phone after he left work. With a little help from some antacids, I endured a full day at school. What a difference a day makes. The day before couldn’t have run more smoothly, but the following day was miserable. There was nothing worse than little children buzzing around my desk when I had the ever-present fear of diarrhea, and to make matters worse, that year I wasn’t assigned a teacher’s assistant to relieve me. Deciding that the trip back to the city would be too precarious, I called my folks and beseeched them to let me stay the night. I promised I would stay far away from them, as long as a toilet was nearby. They agreed, as long as I stayed in the upstairs bedroom.

As luck would have it, Tom showed his true colors by calling three times, each time to see if I was feeling better than the last time. Again, our conversation just flowed naturally. After the battery in my cell phone died, I switched to my parents’ home phone. I didn’t realize how late it was until my mother picked up the phone to make a call and rudely interrupted me with “Trish, are you still on the phone? Remember, you need to get some sleep to let your body recover.” I was quite embarrassed and apologized to Tom. He told me not to worry and that it was sweet that my mom was so concerned. Before we said our good-byes, we agreed to meet for brunch on the coming Saturday.

Saturday came and he called to inform me that he was in front of my apartment building. I broke out in a cold sweat from nerves as I made my way down in the elevator. I exited my building and caught a glimpse of him standing next to his car with flowers in hand. He was even more handsome than any of the photos that I had seen.

While greeting each other, he handed me the flowers. As he opened the door, I sensed my nervousness increase. I thought to myself, “This man obviously has good manners,” while I thanked him and told him that I had to run back up to my apartment to put the flowers in water. I thought, “This could buy me some calm down time.”

As I returned to the elevator doing an involuntary odd dance, Ralph smiled at me and said, “Trish, does this one have potential?”

“Like no one else, Ralph,” I exclaimed as I pressed the elevator button to my floor.

“Flowers on the first date! Boy, that guy has some class!” Ralph proclaimed.

As the elevator doors were closing behind me, I loudly blurted, “I think we have found the one Ralph!” Once in my apartment, I composed myself, only to realize that I might be going on my very last first date. This is the kind of moment that changes one’s life forever I thought. Immediately I felt the onset of an anxiety attack. It didn’t make sense to me, for this is what I was looking for. Having it made me panic-stricken. Apparently, I had spent the last six years in an unreal world. This adult dose of reality drove me to fear.

“Are you nervous?” I asked as I entered Tom’s car.

“Of course, aren’t you?” he said.

“Yes, so am I,” I answered.

What was I afraid of? What was he nervous about? What was wrong with us? We both laughed and immediately were at ease. Miraculously, by New York City standards, we managed to find a parking spot right in front of the restaurant. After several lines of meaningless banter and a giggle here or there, we simultaneously caught each other staring. It was at that point we realized we had to step up to the plate. No more batting practice. The game was on!

After we were seated, our conversation flowed so well that we sent the waiter away three times because we were nowhere near ready to order. I guess that semi-serious stare/laughter did the trick. This situation called for concentration. Although we were hungry, food was not the main objective that afternoon. It took us thirty minutes before we ever even opened the menu, and, due to our mutual attraction, to this day neither one of us can remember what we ate.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this comfortable with someone on a first date, can you?” Tom asked.

Thinking carefully before I answered and probably taking too much time, Tom grabbed my hand and asked me what was taking so long. It was just the touch of his hand that guaranteed me the sincerity and kindness that I had never experienced before. I finally felt at home, exactly where I was supposed to be. Ironically a tear appeared on my left cheek. I say ironic because it was he that discovered it, not I.

“What’s wrong? Am I going too fast? Take as much time as you need,” he concluded.

I was lip-locked. I couldn’t speak if I had to. A knot appeared in my esophagus and the waterworks began to flow. I looked through my veil of tears just to see a horrified Tom. It looked like he was going to have a stroke.

“Please, Trisha, say something, anything. Tell me to go away or even shut up!”

It was at this moment I began to lose my self-security. I don’t remember if I excused myself or not, but I bolted to the ladies’ room in record time. Luckily, it was empty. Like a teenager, I locked myself in one of the stalls and had the following argument with myself. I think I said the following:

“What the hell is the matter with you, Trish? Why are you acting like this? This feeling is exactly what you’ve wanted to feel all your life. You’ll be damn lucky if he’s still sitting where you left him if you have enough guts to get off this toilet.”

It was at that time I heard the door open and saw the appearance of two black sneakers.

“Excuse me, Miss, your date wants to know if you’re OK.” an apparent waitress inquired.

“Thank you so much,” I said while I opened the stall door, “I just got cold feet and I don’t know why,” I blurted.

“It’s OK, happens to best of us.”

As she led me out of the bathroom, she reminded me that my mascara was a mess. Boy was she right. Although I was looking at myself in the mirror, Elvira the vampire-like Queen of Halloween, was looking back at me.

“You have some?” she asked as she pointed to her own eye makeup. It was at that point I felt most comfortable, but looked horrible. I demurely nodded to her. She said good luck and asked if there was anything she could do for me. I was so choked with emotion, I could hardly speak; therefore, I merely waved good-bye. Her warm smile and gentle nod assured me I was in a good place in more ways than one. I rapidly repaired with Revlon and exited the restroom.

As fate would have it, Dean Martin’s “Amore” was playing. I began to laugh out loud, causing a couple of waiters and at least one cook to stare. I couldn’t help but recall my two older brothers would sing their version of this song, which was vulgar, yet hysterical. I couldn’t stop laughing all the way to the table.

The look on Tom’s face was one of sheer confusion.

“Are you feeling all right? We can leave,” he said.

“No, I just needed a moment. I was overwhelmed with the level of comfort that you offered. I know it sounds like a cliché, but I feel like we were meant to meet. To be honest, I panicked.”

It was his turn to grow silent. Suddenly I returned the favor and without hesitation I reached over and grabbed his hand. Seconds later Tom leaned over and kissed my cheek as he whispered in my ear, “Thank God, you feel the same way as I do.”

It was Tom’s turn to open the flood gates. He talked incessantly for a least forty minutes—everything from modern architecture, to Munich, Germany, to the New York Mets, to pistachio ice cream and then some. We even compared our misguided dating stories. He confided in me about his last relationship and how it felt empty and that he was looking not for someone he could live with, but for someone he couldn’t live without.

Although I normally would have suggested ending the date after a brief encounter, I followed my gut and agreed to prolong our meeting because we had already spent countless hours on the phone, and he seemed to be passing every test. All of my fears and concerns were disappearing. Exchanging travel stories, we walked a few blocks and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon strolling through Central Park. He asked if I had ever taken one of the buggy rides at Christmastime. I sensed some permanence here since it was only November and I had to get through Thanksgiving first. I lied and said no and asked had he.

“No, I always wanted to go with someone special, but never felt a strong enough connection with anyone,” Tom stated.

“Yes, I agree. These romantic events need to be shared with the right person,” I remarked.

“Do you have plans for December?” Tom whispered.

“Yes,” I unconsciously created a pregnant pause. After a few seconds I said, “With you, of course.”

The sweet smile on his face warmed me as we leisurely finished our walk through Central Park. But as all good things do, this date too had to end. Both of us had already made other commitments for that evening. Tom had to attend a black tie affair with his two bosses and their wives, and I had planned to have dinner with Greg. Tom drove me back to my apartment and walked me to the door. It must have been the first time in a very long time that I felt extreme sadness as we said our good-byes. A nice hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a wave as he got back into his car. My body was overcome with a variety of emotions ranging from extreme happiness to sadness, but mainly happiness. As I passed Ralph, on the way to the elevator, he proclaimed, “Must have been a pretty good date considering how long you were out.”

“You don’t know how good!” I exclaimed.

I decided to let Ralph in on the details at another time. I was too excited about the time I had just spent with Tom and wanted to tell Greg all about it now, rather than waiting until dinner. I spent the next three hours in Greg’s apartment recapping everything that took place that afternoon. Greg could barely get a word in the entire time, but he didn’t mind, since he hadn’t seen me that happy in quite some time.

Ever the gentleman, Tom called the very next day to thank me for a wonderful first date. I kept thinking it was I that had reason to be thankful. Little did he know, at that time, how many dates from hell I had been through in the previous six years. After recounting some of the previous day’s highlights, he went on to tell me that he had decided to hide his profile, since he didn’t want to date anyone else. I was blown away. How could he be so serious so quickly?

I asked him, “Are you sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” he responded. “I feel extremely comfortable when I’m with you; it is as if we have known each other for much longer.”