The Double Date

After seeing my relationship status change on Facebook, my friend and old coworker wasted no time in sending me a quick message.  He thought I'd hit it off with his best friend.  I agreed to some match making after I got some background info.  His name was Aaron and he was 30 years old, goofy, and worked as a city police officer.  My friend suggested a double date for drinks one evening- him and his girlfriend, me, and Aaron.  That sounded like a good idea to me.  Maybe even fun!  Obviously, this date didn't turn out quite the way I expected.

We arrive at the restaurant and order a round of drinks.  I've never met my friend's girlfriend before so I'm talking to her, talking to my friend, and asking Aaron some questions here and there and we're all laughing except for Aaron.  He seems like he's somewhere else entirely.  He spends a lot of time looking around the restaurant, behind him, at the bar... he's not contributing to any conversation and I don't mean just with me, I mean with anyone.  I like my friend, and now I like his girlfriend, but I came here to get to know Aaron.  So I direct all my attention to him to bring Aaron back to planet Earth, or at least back to the table.

My first attempt is this: You must have a lot of interesting stories to tell, let's hear one.  He assumes I'm talking about stories about my friend since they've known each other for 14 years.  I don't care what it's about, I just want a good story.  You know, one where Aaron speaks.  He thinks.  And thinks.  And thinks.  Silence.  Silence.  And more silence.  Finally he speaks.

"I don't know, there are so many..." 

"Okay, how about a story within the last year.  That should narrow it down by a lot!" I laugh.

He thinks.  And thinks.  And thinks.  Silence.  Silence.  And more silence.  He speaks again.

"... I don't know..."  Wow, Aaron.  Work with me here!  

"Okay then, how about a work story.  You've been a cop for 10 years right?  I bet you have some pretty crazy stories about work," I probe.

"You don't want to hear about my job," he replies.  Really?  Because I thought I just asked... 

"Actually, I'm not working right now," he states.  

"Did you get in trouble?  Did you get hurt??" I ask.  

"I shot and killed someone," he says with this distant look on his face.

"Oh... so you hurt someone else.  Well I'm sure you didn't have much of a choice about it.  But after killing someone, they require you to take some time off and see a therapist, right?"  You see all the things I learn from TV.  It's like I'm a fricken genius!  Okay, maybe that's a bit of a leap.

Aaron proceeds to tell me the story of the night where an adult woman calls 911 saying that her adult son  is in the yard waving a gun around.  They get to the scene and the man appears to be distressed and hysterical.  He appears to be contemplating suicide.  Then he begins shooting at the cops.  They all take cover and have their guns pointed at the guy.  He's now a danger to himself and a danger to others and he's armed.  Whoever has the chance to take the shot to stop this guy from killing his mom or an officer is instructed to take it.  It just so happens that Aaron has that opportunity and he does just that. Suicide by cop.  He doesn't like to talk about it.  It's been two months and now it makes sense why he seems so far away.  The guilt is eating him alive.  Sounds like therapy hasn't been helping too much, sounds like he needs some good old fashioned drugs.  You know, the Zoloft/Celexa/Wellbutrin type.  I wouldn't tell a cop to take drug-drugs now! Come on.

Anyhow, he proceeds to tell me how disturbing it was that some people on the force were congratulating him, like it was a victory.  As if he just entered some kind of cool kids club.  He kept repeating that he prides himself on being able to talk people down from situations, on being a caring person, on relating to people from all kinds of backgrounds and all types of situations, and he only uses force or violence as a last resort.  After all, he became a cop to help people, he tells me.  And now he's killed someone.  I remind him that if he didn't do it, someone else would have or someone else could have died instead.  Multiple people could have been injured or killed.  That man wanted to die.  No one expects to live when they're waving a weapon in front of a cop.  If you hold anything that even resembles a weapon in front of cops, then you're asking to be shot, because they won't hesitate to shoot you.  

I know I asked Aaron to tell me a work story, but I was expecting something a bit more light hearted than this.  I can clearly see he's traumatized and I feel bad for him, but at the same time I think he needs to be dealing with this first before he thinks about dating.  I'm also not so sure he should be a cop at all after this.  

Aaron then tells me how he's supposed to go back to work soon, but he still has triggers.  For example, when he sees the color lime green (the color of the mother's clothing), he thinks about that day and everything comes flooding back.  So not only is he depressed and guilt ridden, but he also suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.  We all order another round of drinks and Aaron goes back to being his quiet self, gazing around the restaurant.

Another round of drinks later and Aaron is drunk.  I learned years later that before the date he was nervous so they call took a couple of shots before heading over to dinner.  This explains things because now he's all smiles and all over me.  He keeps whispering in my ear, grabbing my leg, holding my thigh...  He scoots real close to me and grabs one of my legs and crosses it over his and then holds my hands.  It's funny because I had dinner before this date and I only ordered two drinks because I didn't want to get drunk, act like a fool, and then make a bad impression.  Obviously, Aaron doesn't have the same concern.  He won't keep his hands off of me, oh, and he keeps calling me a butt head.  For the rest of the night, I'm "butt head."  Alicia?  She doesn't exist.  I feel like I'm on a date with a kindergartener.  One butt head is okay, but when it becomes a substitute for my name then we have problems.

My friend and his girlfriend suggest we should go to a bar next door for some dancing, so we walk.  They get to the bar and Aaron possibly gets another drink, I can't remember, but as soon as I sit down on the couch, he picks me up and sits me on his lap and wraps his arms around me.  My friend and his girlfriend are smiling, I'm sure they think we're hitting it off.  I, on the other hand, am uncomfortable with all of this touchy-feely business, especially since just 30 minutes ago, the guy would barely speak to me or anyone else for that matter.  

He asks me to dance, so we dance.  It feels weird because he's not much taller than me (I'm 5'2") so I'm looking him right in the eyes.  Being nearly nose to nose is making me feel awkward, like my personal space is being invaded.  Then he moves in closer and I'm afraid he's going to kiss me but I'm wrong.  He goes for my neck instead, not to kiss it, to nuzzle it.  That's right, nuzzling.  You know, like an animal nuzzles its young?  He's rubbing his forehead, his cheeks, and his shaved head all over the side of my neck.  Now he moves to the other side of my neck.  Now I'm just plain confused.  I feel like a lion or something, like I should start grooming him.  I resist the temptation to lick the stubble on his head and after a fair amount of nuzzling I decide that I'm done with the dancing and the nuzzling.  I'm ready to go.  

We walk back to my car and my friend and his girlfriend keep walking to give me and Aaron some privacy.  That's sweet of them but inside I'm whimpering "please don't..." Aaron whips out his phone and hands it to me, insisting I put in my number.  I type in "Alicia Butthead."  He gives me a hug goodbye, I get in my car and hear a door slam.  I freeze.  That wasn't my door.  I look over to the passenger side and Aaron is sitting there.  "Can you give me a ride home?" he smiles.  

I hear my friend calling, "Aaron! Your car is parked at my house!  What are you doing??"  

"I'm getting a ride home!" he shouts out of the car.

"Man, your car is at our house!  How are you gonna pick it up if you go home? Get outta the car!" my friend shouts back.

Aaron climbs out of my car and heads over to the two of them on the corner and I drive back home.

As soon as I change into my pajamas and I'm climbing into bed, I get a text message from Aaron.  He's complaining that my friend left him alone so he could spend the night at his girlfriend's house.  Aaron invites me to come over, asks me to spend the night with him, and I politely say no.  Even if I was interested, I'm exhausted. I feel like I went on a date with two completely different people.  Quiet, withdrawn, repentant Aaron vs. handsy, nuzzling, and horny Aaron.  And I didn't care for either.