On the subject of dating: A Serial Killer


Until very recently, my last date was with a UPS delivery man who we shall call Dexter. And the reason for that specific name is that I had been on a Dexter Netflix bender and I was pretty sure my date was going to kill me.

Here’s the story.

The evening started off as a quick meetup for drinks after I got out of Wednesday night church. Because I’m very busy and that’s how I roll.

After a drink or two and some pretty good conversation, Dexter inquired as to whether I like ice cream. He became very serious and still as he awaited my verdict about this ice cream. I sensed a potential deal breaker here. So I chose an extreme side and responded with an over-the-top,”Hell yes, I love ice cream!” Apparently, I said the right thing because his little blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and he said, “you wanna go get some? Like right now?”

Listen, no one wants ice cream after having beer but I am a people pleaser and I say yes again. Over the top still but maybe a little more restrained. I ride with him, because if I have to choke down ice cream and let it melt on the beer foam in my stomach, I’m gonna do it in the comfort of the shotgun side. And yes, I yelled shotgun even though there was no one else with us.

So we drive across town to get the damned ice cream and drive around chatting as we eat. Dexter is a pretty good conversationalist and I relax and let the dessert fat go straight to my butt as the date progresses. Things are going nicely.

Until I suddenly realize we are now out of town on a dark, curvy road which I vaguely remember and I cannot recall Dexter’s last name. I casually mention that we are really getting out in the country and he responds, “yeah, you aren’t freaked out, are you? I once took a date down this road and she started freaking out and told me to take her back home.”

Red flag.

I summon all my false confidence and jovially state that I actually know exactly where we are and how I know the area pretty good (lies). Then, I pick up my phone in a subtle manner and text a girlfriend a description of the suspect and give her Dexter’s name and occupation. Do killers tell their real occupation to a target? Either way, I tell her I may be killed and the general area to search for my body. This is not exactly how the texts went, but it’s pretty close.

Anyway, we make our way back to town. I breathe a sigh of sweet relief as we head in the direction of my car. Just then he turns off and parks near a recently rebuilt park, most of which is well lit. He says it’s peaceful there. I agree. We sit and talk and enjoy the night.

Being the sweet girl that I am, I gather our sticky ice cream trash and open the door to take it to the park trash can. He gets out too and recommends a walk since the weather is nice. He’s right. I’ve been all anxious and uptight and he is just a romantic, sweet guy. I haven’t given him a real chance. The park is well lit and has new sidewalks. Despite my high heels, I agree.

We walk. Hand in hand. Staying close to keep warm when the wind picks up. It’s sweet. Romantic. He mentions wanting to go see the bridge at the far end. I agree and we head that way. I hear water. It’s dark over there. We are going off of the sidewalk. I’m unstable in my heels on the uneven ground and stumbling a little. The bridge is gone but a small waterfall is running. I get closer to see the water feature in the low light. Suddenly, he comes up behind me in the dark. I instantly have the thought that I have nothing to defend myself against an attack except my iPhone, which may help deflect a knife. I’m going to die.

Oh wait…he is rubbing my arms to warm me. We head back to his truck as I make a weak joke about how you can’t trust runners because they are always the first ones to find a body. He laughs.

I survive. Obviously.

I didn’t talk to Dexter much after that despite him texting me a few times about when we could hang out again. I probably shouldn’t watch shows about serial killers before a first date either. I felt bad for thinking the worst of such a nice person. Until he randomly texted me a pic of himself wearing a hoodie looking all creepy like the Unabomber. For no reason. I believe I dodged a bullet here.


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