Eric earned that moniker fair and square, and here’s how:
Through a series of poorly made decisions I wound up in his apartment on the upper west side of Manhattan, on his sofa, watching his television, while he showered – all within the first 30 minutes of meeting him for the first time in the neutral territory of Central Park.
I’m not a moron, and I’ve met plenty of total strangers through online dating, so I’m not going to say what I did was smart – but I will say I was fairly confident of my control on the situation.
Our emails had been going back and forth for a few weeks, but meeting up could never be arranged because of our busy schedules. Finally on this day I was close to where I knew he resided and I called out of the blue and asked if he’d like to take a walk with me in the park.
Naked Eric was a brain with legs; brilliant, ivy league educated, using words I’d never heard before, and always giving the impression he saw himself as the smartest man on the land mass.
None of this bothered me or intimidated me, in fact I found it almost sexy in a quirky way.
Physically he was underwhelming; not unattractive by any means, he clearly worked at keeping in shape, but he appeared slight in his gate and posture. So when he mentioned being cold and running back to his place to grab a jacket, I didn’t think twice about agreeing. When we arrived at his front door and my suggestion of waiting for him there was met with a “oh don’t be ridiculous, come upstairs for a second”, I only became slightly alerted. On the way upstairs I kept some distance behind him and made a joke about having brass knuckles in my bag. We both had a good chuckle. His apartment was gorgeous; wood details that just don’t exists in building plans anymore, windows that reached to near the top of 14foot ceilings. I’m offered a seat on his L shaped sofa, and that’s when things got odd.
I had, in fact, called out of the blue. And yes, he did drop whatever he was doing and run out to the park to meet me. But would I have waited if I’d known he was “in the middle of a work out”? Of course.
So the fella who claimed he was cold just moments before was now pleading the “sweaty and gross” story. Five minutes was all he needed. In the shower.
Red flags shot up in my head left and right, but I agreed. I did. And he showered while I watched reality television.
When he emerged from the bathroom minutes later, he was in a towel. I only observed this in my peripheral vision, but it was enough for me. I mentioned something about getting dressed so we could go on that walk, that I needed a coffee. I heard him agree, but what I sensed was him walking behind the couch to the other side of the living room which was nowhere near his bedroom which I assumed housed his clothing. And all of a sudden I am fully aware. He is sitting next to me on the couch in his towel, I am fully aware. He must have counted to five or something, but he went for the big reveal shortly after sitting. I am fully aware the towel is open and there is a naked stranger sitting next to me. A naked, freckled, flaccid man was sitting next to me and all I could do was howl with laughter as “real” housewives of some southern city paraded flickering light across his pale form.
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