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Ben was different than anyone I have ever dated. He had the whole West Village hipster thing down. Unlike most of the 20-something Jewish prospects I had met, who were lawyers and accountants, Ben worked in reality TV production, or at least he was trying to. Ben was in the process of pitching his reality TV show series about wedding planners for Orange County, CA to various television networks. As a reality TV junkie myself, I thought this may very well be a match made in heaven.
When we spoke, our conversations were easy and we never ran out of things to talk about. Before even meeting, our conversations had progressed from JDate emails to JDate instant messages to g-chatting almost all day long while we were both at work. By the time I met him, I felt like I knew a lot about Ben. I could tell you when his birthday is, that he doesn’t like chicken, that he often gets mistaken for his older brother and that he was a snow boarding hot shot in his teens. I have to admit, the more I learned about Ben the more I realized how completely different we were. Aside from a mutual passion for reality TV, his of producing and mine of watching, we had little in common. I was hoping that in our case opposites would attract.
Two weeks after we started talking, Ben finally asked me to meet.
“Would you by any chance want to go to the Knicks game with me on Wednesday?” Ben asked me on a Monday.
A Knicks game?! I had never been, but always wanted to go. “That would be really great. Are you sure you don’t mind sharing your tickets?”
“Of course not! I have season tickets and I’m more than happy to take you,” Season tickets? Maybe an aspiring producer did better than I imagined. “Let’s meet at Stout around 6 for a drink before hand?”
“That sounds really great. I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I. I have a good feeling about it.”
Unsure of whether he was talking about me or the Knicks I logged off for the night. I’m not certain, but pretty sure, I fell asleep with a smile on that night.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was Wednesday morning and I was beyond excited. We were in the middle of our busy season at work so I knew meeting Ben at 6 PM would be a difficult deadline to meet. When 5:00 rolled around, I was in good shape and leaving at 5:30 looked very promising. Until, that is, we got called into a meeting by our department’s director at 5:15. With a director who loved to chat about anything from politics to the the most fabulous restaurant he had dinner at the night before, this was recipe for disaster. Apparently, I was sharing my anxiety with the classroom by checking my watch every 20 seconds.
“Do you need to be somewhere?” my director asked me.
“No! I’m so sorry.”
“Yes she does,” volunteered my co-worked Anne. “She’s going on a date to a Knicks game!” she continued proudly.
I could feel my face turning beet red.
“Wait, are you going on a date or to a Knicks game?” my director asked confused by the thought of attending a sporting event as a date.
“She’s going on a date to the Knicks game but they’re grabbing drinks before at Stout” Anne shared.
I thought I might die. Did she want to invite them to chaperon as well?
“Oh, gotchya. Get out of here and enjoy!” my boss demanded.
“No, no. Don’t be silly. I have plenty of time” I somehow managed to force out even though I couldn’t have been more embarrassed or at a greater loss for words.
“Go!” my director demanded.
I excused myself from the room at 5:50 PM. I scrambled to grab my things, ran to catch the closing elevator doors and hailed the first taxi I saw. On the ride over I tried to freshen up with lip-gloss and blush, but with no mirror it was tough and I could only hope I didn’t look like a clown.
When I got there I swiped my credit card without looking at the amount and jumped out. I texted him a few minutes before to let him know I was close and he said he would meet me outside.
After we greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek and a (solid) hug, he led me to the table he had reserved. My first impression was that Ben was very cute. My second was that he was very short. He had indicated on his profile that he 5’8” and it was apparent that, no pun intended, that was a stretch. At 5’3”, I have never had an issue finding a guy who was taller than me. I tried not to let the reality of his height bother me and the fact that we were sitting across from each other at a table and I could only see from the waist up definitely helped.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asked.
“Sure, that would be great! I’ll have a Malibu Bay Breeze, please.”
“Good choice. And for you?” she asked turning to Ben.
“Just a water, thanks.”
A water? But we were meeting for drinks.
“Oh, in that case, a water would be great for me as well” I told the waitress as she was walking away.
“Are you sure?” Ben asked me. “I don’t mind, you’re more than welcome to drink.”
More than welcome to drink? I don’t think so. Was he a recovering alcoholic? Did he not like the taste of alcohol? Why had he suggested grabbing a drink before the game? Was I over-thinking this? Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood to drink? I tried to push these questions out of my mind and not to let it bother me.
We talked more about his TV shows and he asked my opinions. I was honest without being rude and he seemed impressed. I could talk about reality TV all day and was pleased to see that we had not yet run out of things to talk about. Unfortunately, that all changed when we got to the game.
“Have you ever been to a Knicks game?” he asked me while we waited on line.
“I can’t say I have, but I’m really excited for it”
“Oh.”
Did I say something wrong? Had I given him the impression that I was an avid sports fan? Not sure how I could have pulled that one off since I made it clear that I don’t follow or play any sports. I tried to keep a smile on and stay positive but things went from bad to worse when we got to our seats.
I can say, with complete confidence, that in the history of all Knicks games no two people have ever sat in such silence. I’m not sure what triggered this drastic change in the mood but we had nothing to talk about and I couldn’t wait for the game to end.
Three hours later, the Knicks had lost and we both rushed out of the stadium. We were on 34th Street and I had to walk up to 42nd Street. I assumed, he was planning to walk with me since it was late at night and the street was filled with hundreds of drunk ,rowdy, angry Knicks fans. Instead, he gave me a quick hug and said, “I’m going to head this way,” point in the direction opposite of which I had started to walk. Caught off guard, I stumbled to find the words “Ok, thanks for tonight.”
“You’re welcome, I’ll talk to you tomorrow for sure” he said before walking away.
If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I would never hear from Ben again. I was ok with that but found myself frustrated that once again I let myself get excited about the potential of this new person only to wind up disappointed. In addition to the frustration I felt, I was totally confused. How could two people have so much to talk about in cyber space but have absolutely nothing to talk about face-to-face?
