Tag Archives: Blind Date


2 Jul

Have you ever had an experience where, as you are going through it, you wonder if you are living your last few moments here on Earth?  That’s how I felt on Sunday night when I went out with a gigantic, pantyhose-wearing man.

I must admit that I was fully aware of what I was getting myself into when I answered a message from someone named PantyhoseLover81 on OKCupid.  His profile picture was of his hairy legs sheathed in a sheer, nude hose.  I responded because he mentioned that he also had a “regular” profile and I was curious as to what type of man fancied womens undergarments.  I figured his regular profile would feature a photo of a diminutive dweeb who was an office worker by day and a top secret hose fiend by night.  These dual profile people creep me out because they make me wonder how many “normal” men I have gone out with who have also had a secret sex profile.  But at this point there was no going back… I was intrigued.  So I got down to brass tacks with PantyhoseLover81:

PantyhoseLover81:  Hey how’s it going?
Me:  Wait, I don’t get it. Do you wear the pantyhose or does your date?
PantyhoseLover81:  Well if everything goes ok we both do lol
Me:  Like under our pants? Or just a nude hang out with hosiery?
PantyhoseLover81:  More like in the bedroom although I have been known to wear them under my pants on occasion.

He showed me his other profile, which was not at all what I had expected.  He was a giant, clean cut Italian man who was covered in tattoos.  He looked like a cast member of The Jersey Shore.  Under the question “Would you prefer your life to be simple or complex?” he answered “Simple.  Keep the drama for the movies.”  Additionally, I discovered that he didn’t drink– he was a sober lover of hose.  I concluded that all of these variables warranted a date.

PantyhoseLover81 lived in Little Neck (I have no idea where that is) but was driving, so I figured it wouldn’t be too much trouble for him to transport to my area.  I selected my least favorite bar in my neighborhood.  That way, he wouldn’t easily be able to track me down in the future because I rarely go there… but, at the same time, I could potentially make a quick escape to my home base if he tried to bind and gag me with hose and throw me in the back of his truck.

I went into the date with a massive headache due to the fact that I had spent the previous two hours looking at magic eye puzzles and could no longer focus my eyesight.  Tony Chiccorino, the man himself, walked in as I was taking a shot of tequila that the bartender bought me.  Oops.  He assured me that he didn’t mind, and I was struck equally by how tall and mellow he was.  I forgot to mention earlier that this was my first blind date ever where I gave someone a false name for safety purposes.  I knew I was inevitably going to slip up and have to come clean about my lie… which happened when I explained to him that the letters on one of my tattoos are my initials and he said “I thought your first name was Sara?”  Double oops.

Tony told me in his thick Queens accent that he worked as a firefighter– which genuinely surprised me.  You would think I’d be shocked to learn that my firefighter date was a pantyhose aficionado, but unfortunately it was the other way around.   I let him talk about the life of a New York firefighter, his nieces, and his recent kayak outing for a little while before I broached the real topic at hand.  “So have you ever slid down a fireman’s pole wearing nothing but hose and a helmet?” I asked, after procuring a second beer.  “I never mix business with pleasure” he responded.  “How did you first come to realize your love of hosiery?”  He explained that, at the impressionable age of seven, he had found a pair of his older sister’s pantyhose hanging in the family bathroom.  The texture had aroused his senses and he felt drawn to them in a way that, at seven years old, he could not venture to explain.  The next thing you know, those bad boys were on his legs and he was sold for life.  I asked him how often he finds himself galavanting about in a pair of hose and he said “you know, a pantyhose fetish is like a pulse.  It goes up and down.”  “How many pairs of hose do you own?”  I was not letting this go.  “In my arsenal?  Three or four.  I got news for you.  That’s a lot.  Usually it’s one.”  I guess the pulse is high this summer.  Just when I didn’t think things could get any better, he pulled out a vaporizer and started vaping in my face as he pondered: “Hose.  It’s one of those words you say too many times and it starts to sound funny.  Hose.  Hose.”  Eventually it came to light that he had recently engaged in a threesome with a married couple he met through OKCupid.  I made a joke about all three participants writhing around in a pantyhosed fury, to which I think he replied something about my statement not being too far off.  “You heard me” he said, as if reading my mind.

As we were leaving I asked Tony if he was currently sporting a sensible pair of hose under his jeans.  He told me that it was a little too hot for layering, but he did have a pair in his truck if I was interested.  “Can I drive you home?” he asked, as I began fearing for my safety and considering how I could leave a trail of forensic evidence.  I told him I only lived two blocks away, but he persisted.  “That really won’t be necessary” I said, giving him my number which seemed to be an acceptable parting gift.  I then ducked behind a homeless man’s cart until I saw his truck disappear over the hill.  By the time I got home, I received a text from him that read “Hope you got hose ok.”  I’m still not sure whether or not the typo was intentional, but that, along with the fact he didn’t murder me definitely secures Tony Chiccorino a spot in my Blind Date Hall of Fame.


My Hero!

21 Mar

Last time I was on OKCupid I met lawyers, computer programmers, doctors, mimes, musicians, writers, teachers, bankers… the list goes on.  So I am a little confused as to why I am only being messaged by stand-up comedians!  Well, comedians and a hearty handful of graphic designers and video editors.  There must be something in my profile that is attracting these special breeds.  Anyway, last week after getting messaged by probably my ninth stand-up comedian, I finally gave in and arranged a date with the most persistent of the bunch.  "Bryan” seemed cute and less of a hot mess than the others.  Boy, was I in for a treat.

Several minutes after I sat down to wait at the bar, I received a text saying that I should turn around because he was sitting at a table behind me.  He was simultaneously reading a newspaper and listening to his ipod, which I thought were strange things to be doing while waiting for your blind date.  I sat down at his table and he snapped his paper shut and pulled out his earbuds with such force that they flew across the table and hit me in the chest.  He began by lamenting how crappy his ipod classic was and I pulled mine out of my coat pocket to show that I have the same one.  "Let me see that!” he barked, ripping it out of my hand and sending my earbuds flying straight into his beer.  I didn’t say anything, but dried them off with a napkin under the table.  I could tell it was going to be a long hour.

Bryan immediately launched into (what I gathered was) his stand-up material– telling stories about himself in ways that were clearly set-ups for his punchlines.  When he finished his sentences, he would pause, then repeat the last phrase, waiting for me to laugh… which I did every once in awhile just to humor him because it was getting awkward and he seemed desperate for attention.  I barely said a word since he had so much to say about himself and whenever I would start to speak he interrupted me.  As he went on and on, I thought about how he must be a really problematic lover– I had recently read an article about how men who are totally self-involved and bad at listening are generally pretty terrible in the sack.  At one point he said “Wow, you’re really making me work for a laugh. I feel like I’m bombing here!”  Yeah, because I didn’t have seven Mountain Dews on the way over and I don’t think you’re that funny.  His arm gestures were so grandiose that they were making me dizzy and eventually the inevitable happened– he knocked over his beer with a giant swoop, spilling it all over a girl who happened to be passing by.  I could tell he was nervous, but he needed to bring it down a few notches.  When he mentioned that he was 38, but not yet ready for a relationship I almost choked on my wine.  "Yeah… didn’t you read my profile?” he asked after seeing my reaction to his age.  I did, I had just forgotten because of how he was acting on our date.  Geez, why are men in New York so complicated?!

Bryan was very abrasive and spent the hour insulting just about everyone.  He called our server a hipster to his face before talking about how he doesn’t like improv and sketch comedy people because they’re “corny and unoriginal.”  He said he doesn’t get along with other comedians… or his coworkers… or his friends from back home… or his family.  He also shared that he owes upwards of $12,000 to the IRS for cheating on his taxes.  Oh, and his ex-girlfriend was apparently a psycho and punched him in the face.  All very attractive things to tell someone you met less than an hour ago.  This guy was the epitome of the “victim” type– In his mind he is just a good guy trying to follow his dreams and everybody else is bringing him down because they don’t understand or are out to get him.  I am very familiar with this type of guy because I dated one a few years ago.  Bryan reminded me so much of him it was a little creepy.

The icing on the cake was when Bryan asked me if I wanted to watch his stand-up routines on his ipod.  What was I supposed to say, no?!  I put my beer-soaked earbuds in and watched not one, but TWO of his stand up routines.  I have to say that the first one was more entertaining than the material I was getting live and in person.  At any rate, it was time to go.  He picked up the bill (which was much appreciated) and after I helped him calculate the tip, he informed me that he was going to walk me to the train.  I know he was trying to be chivalrous, but I really just wanted out of there.  Walking full-speed to the G train, I was glued to Google Maps on my phone… when it happened.  I fell in a hole.  The sidewalk had cut out on my side to make room for a tree and I had missed the memo, not watching where I was going.  Luckily, as I started to fall, Bryan was quick to catch me before I landed.  We shared a laugh over it, but then he decided to reenact the moment (so he could grab me again I’m guessing).  Without warning, he lightly pushed me in the middle of the street then enveloped me in a large embrace as I tripped again, this time on his encroaching Nikes.  "What are you trying to do, kill me?!” I exclaimed, only half-kidding.  Thankfully, we somehow made it to the subway in one piece and I swiftly descended the steps, shouting “Yeah OK!” up the steps… which I think was an agreement to eat Ethiopian food with him later in the week.  No thanks.

“I just fell in a hole trying to escape a comedian who made me watch two of his stand-up routines on a blind date” I texted my friend.  "That sucks, I just slept with both of my neighbors” she wrote back.

It occurred to me that I can’t exactly ream Bryan for acting a fool and spilling his beer on someone because– let’s face it– I fell in a hole.  Who knows, maybe as I write this very blog post he is up in Astoria developing new material about how he saved the life of this crazy girl who fell in a hole during our blind date.