On Thursday morning I was surprised to see a familiar face pop up in my inbox. It was HORSE MAN. For those who aren’t as well-versed in my suitor history, Horse Man initially contacted me about seven months ago. We exchanged far more emails than I usually do before meeting someone and he traveled to Morocco at one point, promising me a Moroccan keychain upon his return. After four or five cancellations, Horse Man swore that he would meet me at Art Bar one night. I waited for twenty minutes past the time he was supposed to arrive and eventually received a text saying he wasn’t going to make it because an old college friend was in town. This was the second time I have ever been stood up, the first being, of course, The Artist who painted with his ball sack. In the end, I wasn’t all that disappointed about missing out on a chance to meet this horse, but I had been looking forward to that Moroccan keychain. Oh well, even I have my limits with how much crap I will put up with from men from the internet.
Back to Thursday. Here are the messages that were exchanged:
HORSE MAN: So I don’t deserve it, because I failed at meeting you about forty two times. In my own defense, I was dealing with a lot of family issues with my father remarrying a cave troll, and it made me pretty flippant. All water under the bridge. If you were ever up for it. I would legitimately meet you wherever you wanted and I will even be the best most fun date ever. PS my sister stole your Morocco keychain.
ME: Well since you’re related to a cave troll I guess I have no choice but to excuse your behavior. But why would I have reason to believe you wouldn’t stand me up again?
HORSE MAN: You really don’t, I suppose. And I definitely do not deserve another chance after I let you down before. But for what it’s worth, we obviously had quite an interest in meeting each other, and I think have quite a lot in common that would be fun to dig up. (Note: I was interested in digging up that keychain) I am not here to waste anyone’s time. I am actively looking for a fellow amazing person with whom to cause all sorts of merrymaking throughout this life.
ME: OK fine. Do you still have my number? Text me… I’m sure you’re still in my phone but I can’t remember what I saved you under. Probably “GuyWhoStoodMeUp” (he’s actually under “Horse Man.”)
HORSE MAN: I do not have your number. I deleted it after it was clear my bridge was burnt. You can give it to me or you can text me at ***-***-****. You can keep me in your phone as “GuyWhoStoodMeUp” though. I suppose I will have to earn a better name for myself.
ME: Mine is ***-***-****. Lucy’s Bar. 5:30. Be there… or don’t, if anyone in your family gets remarried or something on your way over.
HORSE MAN: My birthday is in your phone number. It’s a sign. (Of what, that I’m your next murder victim?)
ME: My birthday is in 2 days. Guess I won’t be getting any Moroccan keychains.
HORSE MAN: Please remind me to ask you about coming with me to Morocco this summer. (Whoa buddy, let’s at least meet first before you start in about traveling to foreign countries together.)
Honestly, I was a little nervous about meeting him due to his strange behavior. And I had previously wondered if he was even a real person or someone I knew/went out with in the past who was screwing with me. Before, I had wanted to meet him because of the keychain… but now I was really just curious to see if he actually existed. I arrived at the bar considering whether I was about to be abducted and should ask a friend to check on me in a few hours.
Horse Man arrived at the bar about five minutes later and I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out “You DO exist!” He laughed, apologized again for his previous actions, and paid for my drinks. He explained how much he hated his step-mother and blamed his flakiness on his disdain for his father’s recent marriage. He also told me that his first OKCupid date had been so horrifying that it had turned him off from the whole idea and that’s when he stood me up. I hear a lot of OKCupid horror stories, but here’s a new one, even for me. Apparently, while Horse Man was waiting to meet his first ever blind date in a bar, she called him hysterically crying and told him to come outside. When he exited the bar, he saw a girl in a white dress sitting on the curb, covered in blood. As he approached her, he noticed there was a severed finger lying next to her on the ground! She explained that she had gotten out of a van cab to go meet him and accidentally closed her finger in the sliding door. She screamed as the driver began to pull away, causing him to slam on his breaks, the force of which ripped off her left pointer finger. Horse Man said that he ran into a bodega, grabbed a newspaper and a cup of ice, scooped up his date’s finger with the paper and got her to a hospital. He stayed with her at the emergency room until five AM while she got her finger sewn back on. What a handful. He said he deleted his account for a few weeks after this incident, then rejoined and now goes out on at least five new dates per week. Despite this admission, I decided not to tell him that I had another blind date lined up in an hour (I had penciled him in before my other date in case he decided not to show up again).
We stayed for another couple drinks and he invited me to go to Morocco with him for two weeks next summer. I tried to figure out what he did for work, but his description was incredibly confusing and he had a slight lisp which didn’t help matters. He also jutted his mouth to one side when he spoke, as if reaching for that last stalk of hay through the fence He was nice though, and I had a better time with him than I had expected. And he didn’t kidnap or roofie me, which is always appreciated.
After many months of flakiness and empty keychain promises, it was nice to finally meet Horse Man and calm my fears that he was a jilted former blind date who was cyber-stalking me and was going to drug and kill me. I think I watch too many TV shows about murder. But the moral of the story here is always be mindful of your surroundings. If you aren’t, you never know when you might get roofied by an Australian, or stalked by a mysterious figure in a green coat, or have your finger severed off by a van cab.
Stay tuned for my second date of the evening– with a perverted attorney.