INTERNET DATES FROM HELL Page 9

  Before I could compose an e-mail to Greg, I was inundated with many popups depicting what appeared to be animals mating. As I began to close each spam window, I couldn’t believe my eyes! Perhaps I had seen too many pictures of horses in his apartment, and my eyes were deceiving me. Upon closer inspection, I realized that these weren’t animals mating; these were animals and humans mating (is mating the right term here?). My curiosity took over, knowing these spam pop-ups only happen when one visits similar sites. I decided to do some investigating of my own.

  To my disgust, as I clicked on the history icon, I encountered hundreds of thumbnails of movie and photo files that had the word animal in them. I randomly clicked on one of them, and it opened a bestiality movie of a woman getting it on with a Great Dane! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I clicked on the next one and found another woman with a horse. Gross! To think that we had been at the San Diego Zoo only a day before. What the hell had he been thinking? And even worse, his deceased father had been a well-known horse veterinarian. Not only would I have to worry about other women, but animals as well. This was more bizarre than I could have thought. Just then the front door handle began to turn, and thinking it was Joe, I rose and hastily made a beeline toward the door. At that moment I realized it was too late to log off and close the laptop. Much to my surprise it wasn’t Joe at all, but Marion, his oldest sister.

  “What’s wrong, Trish? You looked like you saw a ghost,” she said. Before I could answer, I saw her eyes move down the table to the open laptop and the chair left askew.

  “Oh, I see.” She added, “There’s a perfectly good explanation.”

  “My phone battery was running low, and I needed to contact a friend to verify my ride home from the airport “

  “No need to explain yourself,” Marion retorted.

  As she finished her statement I noticed her somber mood. She sat and invited me to do the same. She began to tell a lurid tale of Joe’s preoccupation with animals, stemming from their father’s profession.

  She told me that her mother had befriended a priest when her dad had developed cancer. The priest supposedly had healing powers. He spent time with the family in an effort to comfort them. At this point she revealed that Joe had been molested by the priest when he was younger. I asked her how old he was when this terrible thing happened, expecting to hear that he was a child. But instead, she replied that he was 19—it had happened only ten years prior! I was shocked! Could this be what had caused his imbalance? Then it came to me, as Marion continued to supply many details regarding the facts. I silently pieced the puzzle together. The combination of what Joe saw as a child, perhaps in his father’s office, the ranch life of animal husbandry, and the molestation of an unstable young adult by a Catholic priest, all contributed to his perversion.

  Marion continued her explanation while I retrieved my purse and sunglasses. I politely asked her to drop me off at my motel room and implored her not to reveal the nature of my departure. She agreed, and before long we were in the parking lot outside my room.

  “I am sorry for all of this, Trish, but Joe is a good kid. Please remember him as such.”

  “Right now, Marion, I need to sort things out. I’m a little shaken,” I responded.

  “Take all the time you need. You appear to be a good kid yourself.”

  As she drove out of the parking lot, I felt an overwhelming sadness for that family. I realized at that point how fortunate it was to be “normal.” The next morning came and went with a quick cab ride to the airport, surrounded by the beauty of Southern California. I had never been this far south in California before, and I absolutely loved the scenery. What a beautiful region of the country. Just then I had a bizarre thought. Actually it was more of a joke that I had heard when I was a kid but could never quite understand. It goes as follows: “Other than that, Mrs. Abraham Lincoln, how did you like the play?” I finally got that joke, which my father used to tell and my brothers used to laugh at.

  14

  Be Wary of Someone Too Eager to Travel a Great Distance Right Away

  August 2000

  I should have learned my lesson from chapter 3, where I traveled to England to visit Simon, but I didn’t, and I gave the Christian Singles site another chance. Another zealot answered my ad. This time it was Ben from Dallas, Texas. Although average in height, build, and complexion, his smile spoke volumes. During the first conversation after our initial e-mail correspondence, he seemed to be interested in someone from the north. I told him that I was not interested in moving to Texas, nor any other southern state for that matter. I was New York bred and bound. He said that even though he owned a tree trimming business and was a certified arborist, he would be willing to go where the Lord took him. On the phone he sounded personable and upbeat. It bothered me that he was already willing to sacrifice a business and career and move north before even meeting me. That spelled desperation to me.

  With that in mind, I dug as deeply as I could with my questions to uncover the crack in his foundation. If I was successful, I would politely dismiss myself from the situation and move on. The more I dug, the less I found. He seemed to have answers for everything, most of which were logical and sound. His kind personality and phone presence warmed my heart. After several of these conversations over the span of two weeks, I decided to invite him to New York for a weekend. He jumped at the chance. “Why wait until next weekend, why not tomorrow?” he exclaimed.

  Tomorrow? That was too eager for me. What is wrong with these guys who are willing to drop everything and fly 1,500 miles or more to be with someone they have never met? Now I truly understand why they call some southwestern cowboys desperados. I told him that tomorrow was no good, nor was the rest of the week for that matter. I got this strange mental image of three cowpokes standing up and spilling tin cups of coffee to put out their campfire. His silence on the phone was deafening.

  “Are you still there, Ben?” I urged.

  “Call me ‘Heck,’ will you Trish?”

  “Heck,” I thought to myself. “I feel like I am in an episode of Bonanza, waiting for Little Joe and Hoss to walk in and lecture me on why I should take Heck up on his offer.”

  “How do you spell that, Ben? I asked.

  “Heck, H-e-c-k, like ‘oh Heck,’” he responded.

  Now I was really in it! Second thoughts bombarded me. How can I get myself the heck out of this one? I finally told him that the following weekend would be better. This delay would allow me some time to think of an excuse not to go through with it.

  Less than ten minutes later, the phone rang again. Heck was on the other line proclaiming that he had booked a flight over the Internet for $265 to New York, eight days away.

  Eight days flew by, and my anticipation was practically nonexistent. I begrudgingly made it through Friday night rush hour traffic to JFK airport and waited at the gate for Heck to arrive. As I tried to imagine how this experience could turn out positively, Heck walked off the plane with a freaking cowboy hat, cowboy boots, faded denim jeans, and a red bandana. The only things missing were a holster and a piece of wheat between his teeth. He looked as if he stepped off the soundstage for an episode of Gunsmoke.

  As I was driving him from the airport to his hotel, I decided to cut right to the chase. After a long-winded discussion about three saints, I finally asked him if he engaged in any online activity that he wasn’t proud of (since that had been a real deal-killer in the past for me). He switched gears and told me that God allows him to view porn online as a physical outlet to prepare him for the sacrament of marriage. He claimed that God spoke to him often and that God had actually guided him and had given him signs to meet me. He even confided to me that only a few years before, at the age of thirty, he would frequent topless bars to persuade the dancers to turn to God. One night he brought a dancer home, and she took advantage of him and stole his virginity. What a crock of shit! At that point, I wanted
to drop the freak off by the side of the road at Sheep’s Head Bay on the Belt Parkway! But no, I’d gotten myself stuck in this mess. I had to deal with him. My mind was racing, so I planned what chores needed to be done that weekend so that the weekend would not be a total waste.

  We arrived in New York City and went to dinner at a diner. I ordered a cheeseburger and fries, and he sat there and lectured me on how fattening and unhealthy my food was. At this point I truly felt ashamed of my food choices, but I defensively responded, “I don’t care. If I want a damn burger, I’ll have it.” It was then that I found out that he wasn’t only a religious fanatic, but also a health nut too. He wasn’t happy. He continued to badger me about the ill effects of eating meat. He claimed that in the last stages of becoming certified as an arborist he had learned a lot about the world of vegetarianism. He said that he had firmly converted himself and his workers.

  He should have asked me to call him Hick, instead of Heck, for that’s truly what he morphed into as the hours transpired. He not only lectured me, but included everyone in the restaurant, and the city of New York for our unhealthy eating habits and meat-eating ways. He continued what seemed to be a sermon at that point, about how God gave us one body and it was not up to us to destroy it with toxic foods. He said he would pray to the archangel Gabriel for my forgiveness, as if Gabriel had nothing more to do than check souls at the gate of heaven (as far as Heck was concerned, he checked their waistlines as well).

  I now knew the first order of business would be to remove my profile from the Christian singles site. I only wished that I could discover a better way to find a life partner. My mind was made up; I couldn’t take another minute, let alone two more days, of this crap.

  In the middle of one of Heck’s rants about the lack of serious concern for ecology in New York City by its residents, I purposefully dropped my knife on the plate to make a scene. The sound was twice as loud as I had thought it would be. Many of the diner patrons stopped their dinner conversations and stared at me. That was just what I had wanted.

  “That’s enough!” I yelled, “There’s nothing wrong with me, these people, or the city of New York for that matter. This is our home. Why don’t you take your cattleman’s ass back to Dallas where you are obviously more comfortable and more needed? This city is full of transplants and we don’t need another one. Do you hear that sound, Heck?”

  “No, what?” Heck responded.

  “That is the Lord calling you. You mentioned you would go wherever the Lord called you. I hear him calling you out of New York.”

  I abruptly jumped out of the booth and threw a twenty on the table and headed for the door. Luckily, as soon as I left the diner, a cab pulled up. I was home in less than ten minutes.

  15

  Don’t Date Someone Who Has Never Been in a Relationship

  December 2000

  It was hard to believe that it was only a little more than a year ago that I was standing outside of Tiffany’s, being proposed to by an overly ambitious Don Juan type. Where did those thirteen months go? Thanksgiving had come and gone, and Macy’s had decorated its window a week early this year. “Great,” I thought to myself, “another Christmas without a relationship.” As a child I had loved Christmas, but as an adult this season wasn’t as jolly. I guessed there would be little “Ho Ho Ho” this Christmas, too (or maybe not). “Regardless,” I thought to myself, “this Christmas I am going to have a great time—with or without someone.” Thank God for Internet shopping. I could find an outfit, new shoes, and even a nice coat for myself without enduring all of the Christmas hype and gaudy displays in the department stores, which only made me self-conscious about my singleness. No sooner did I sit down to begin my splurge, than the ever-familiar ring of those three words was heard: “You have mail.” “Fantastic,” I thought to myself. When I get in the shopping mode, that’s all I want to do, and I don’t like to be distracted. As I sat debating whether to ignore my e-mail, I noticed that my screen saver appeared and made my decision for me. The lonely little snowman melting in the noonday sun that I chose for my screen saver seemed lonelier now than a week ago. Even the little pool of melted snow around his base seemed wider. Damn, he looked depressed! I decided to postpone my shopping splurge for a few minutes and read my e-mail.

  Mickey wrote only a few lines, stating that he was looking for a partner to enjoy the fun things in life, especially around the Christmas holidays. He stated that he was six foot two inches, and of Irish-German descent. His photo showed that he was attractive. He worked part-time at an Internet start-up company located in New York City and part-time as a caddie in Rockland County, where he lived. “Rockland,” I thought to myself. “That’s funny, I don’t know if I have ever met anyone from Rockland County. How bad could this one be?”

  I sent Mickey my phone number and he immediately called! He sounded mildly interesting, aside from his monotone delivery. Based on last year’s mistakes with out-of-state men, I decided to stay closer to home and concentrate on the greater metropolitan area. I also liked the notion of cutting to the chase early for quick exit purposes. I began the interview process. I asked Mickey about his last relationship, how many long-term or short-term relationships he had had. His response was that he had never had a relationship. Up went the red flag! This surprised me because he had reached the age of forty without a commitment to a serious relationship. Will wonders never cease? I didn’t think there were any forty-year-old virgins these days, or maybe I was being too presumptuous. I decided to give Mickey a try, due to his innocent divulgence of this very sensitive matter.

  Each time we spoke on the phone, the conversation flowed better than the time before. I had asked him why he had never had a relationship, but he refused to answer and told me that he would discuss it when we met. Since he worked in the city and I lived there, we decided to meet for pizza at a neighborhood parlor close to Penn Station. If the date didn’t pan out, it would be beneficial for both of us to be that close to Penn Station. He could easily hop on the 1, 2, or 3 train to Times Square at 42nd, then transfer to the S to Grand Central to Metro North to his park-and-ride at White Plains and proceed on to Rockland County, and it allowed me to make a quick getaway as well, since I lived only a few blocks away. If the date went well, we could enjoy the Christmas decorations in Macy’s windows.

  When we finally met, he looked like his photo, but appeared thinner. He seemed very nervous in the beginning, but after twenty minutes he became more comfortable. I was still curious as to why he had never had a relationship, so I asked him again. His response was that he had gone on many first dates, but was never pursued by any of his contacts, due to his drinking and excess weight. As a result of severe depression and low self-esteem, he decided to attend weekly AA meetings, where he had great success. Sober for seven years, Mickey exuded a great sense of accomplishment. “Seven years,” I thought. “All those years without a drink or a relationship? I’ve had dry spells in the past, but this is unbelievable!” He said that he had lost weight and now felt great about himself. Most women would probably have left at that point in the date but I stayed, and the teacher in me gave him an “A” for honesty. He seemed lovable, but maybe life had just dealt him the wrong hand.

  “This could be another Miracle on 34th Street,” I laughed to myself. But maybe it was too early to decide. After a mutually good time, we both agreed that a movie would be in order, so we walked down the street to the Loews on 34th. We decided to see Almost Famous. After the second sex scene in the movie, I couldn’t help but wonder about Mickey. I discreetly turned to him and whispered, “If you have never had a relationship, does that mean you are a virgin as well?” He told me that he would tell me later, if I promised not to judge him. Uh-oh, what had I gotten myself into now? The curiosity was eating me alive. There was at least another hour of the movie left, and my anxiety soared!

  Finally the movie ended, credits rolled, and we exchanged small talk regarding the sto
ry line on the way out of the theatre. Once we arrived at the diner, I immediately ordered a piece of cake and a cup of tea, while he ordered nothing. I pleaded with him to order something. He said he wasn’t hungry. “Then order something to drink,” I said. Oops, wrong choice of words. He acquiesced by ordering a club soda. I realized then how hard it was for him, or anyone else, to remove an obsession such as alcoholism from one’s life. Before I posed the question again, I assured Mickey that I had an open mind, as well as a diverse group of friends who were anything but ordinary.

  “So tell me, Mickey, are you or are you not a virgin?” I inquired tactfully. I couldn’t determine the cause of the redness he exhibited. Was it a blush of embarrassment or a sign of anger? Moments later it was clear to me that it was neither.

  “I beg your pardon, Trisha, but you don’t need to have a relationship to have sex,” he retorted.

  I felt foolish! He was right! Although quite forceful, Mickey remained polite and respectful throughout. I immediately apologized for my rudeness.

  He responded with, “No need to apologize, Trish. There’s nothing better than frankness on a first date. I admire that trait in you. Now let me be frank with you.”

  In the midst of his statement, I cut him off with one of my patented questions, “Don’t tell me that you use the Internet for those encounters, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do, now that you asked.”

  Asked? Pried is more like it. I was actually prying into his personal life, and I had only known him for just a few hours. Who was I to do that? But then again, this was my life and I didn’t want to get involved with anyone without a normal sense of control regarding his sexual impulses. Mickey continued. It was downright shocking what he revealed in the next few minutes. He told me that he had been meeting with prostitutes (high-end call girls, as he referred to them) over the past seven “dry” years. He admitted that at times these encounters were weekly and that the highest-end whore was upwards of $500. I am glad that he didn’t tell me what he paid for the low-end ladies. Without pause, he detailed the different Web sites he had done business with. The only drawback seemed to be the expenses he had (not for the hos, but for the “ho”-tel rooms, due to the fact that he lived with his parents). His demeanor never wavered. It was almost as if he was proud of his accomplishments (sexual conquests is what I called them). I decided to let Mickey talk until he was finished rather than deliver my own philosophy regarding the issue. The last thing I remember him saying was that he was going to treat himself to a high-class call girl this Christmas if this date doesn’t work out. I thought to myself, “Well then, make your call, boy, because this isn’t going anywhere.” Although there weren’t any Ho Ho Hos in my Christmas that year, I’m sure Mickey had a few of his own.