Once and For All: The Serial Killer

Even when I agreed to meet him with that "Oh, sure, maybe sometime..." that's so easy on the Internet, I wasn't exactly excited by the idea. Citing a general disdain for the dating world in general, I'd deleted my online profile and backed out of other dates for the same week, but I couldn't find a defensible reason to cancel with him when I found an actual meeting fast-approaching.

I agreed to meet him at Starbucks, and we had a tentative plan for a movie following that, if we were both so inclined. By the time the day arrived, I was downright opposed to going. Again, though, finding no justifiable excuse, I resigned myself to fulfilling my obligation.

Shit. I'm supposed to meet him in 10 minutes. It's too late to back out now. Shit, shit, shit.

As I was gathering my things to walk out the door, he called to confirm the agreed-upon meeting place. His voice made me shudder. I went back inside to make sure I'd left Roommate all the pertinent details regarding him and our date. Before laying eyes on the guy, I knew I'd already discovered his epithet: The Serial Killer.

In person, Serial Killer was very nice. Had a bit of a stutter. Was seriously, seriously obsessed with music. But completely amicable. Jebus, self, I thought. Get yourself together. This guy is way too nice to be a serial killer.

Um, Ted Bundy, anyone?

When we finished our drinks, we drove (separately) to a theater and bought tickets to a movie of his choosing.[1] We had a beer or two while waiting for the film to start. It was here that Serial Killer told me he sometimes attends one of the few goth nights in D.C. clubs and suggested I join him sometime. Glancing down at my brightly-colored top and newly-pink-for-spring toenails, I told him I didn't think it would be my scene.

After the movie, in the dimly-lit parking lot of the theater, he asked if I would like to see him again. Noting my surroundings, I agreed, and we parted ways. I drove behind him until I got caught by a light. Initially relieved at the distance this put between us, after a short while I became more than a little paranoid that he was somehow suddenly behind me. I actually drove out of my way to ensure that no one was following me before I went home.

For our next date, he suggested hanging out at his place or mine. Still not comfortable with the idea of him having my address, I agreed to go to him. I arrived on time and walked into his sparsely-furnished apartment not long after he'd returned from helping with a Habitat house. Jebus, self, I thought as I listened to him excitedly describe his day of volunteering, give this guy a break. It must just be his voice that creeps you out. He can't help having a creepy voice. What kind of serial killer contributes to his community like that?

Um, John Wayne Gacy, anyone?

After we discussed our days, Serial Killer handed me a stack of DVDs. I pulled out several I hadn't seen, and, of those, he recommended Kids.

-- <rant>Wait a second. Kids? Of the 60 or so movies in your possession, you recommend, for viewing on your second date, one that involves a bunch of teenagers and pre-teens passing HIV to one another like it's a pack of Skittles or something? Two for two with the bad [2] movie selections, buddy. Two for Two. </rant>--

After that painful hour and a half, I suggested we go grab some sushi. I offered to drive, already devising my escape plan before we rose from his uncomfortable futon.

The sushi was delicious, and the conversation was, remarkably, fairly light and fun. Despite a relatively early hour, I announced I was tired when I dropped him off and avoided a kiss by throwing my hand up between us in an awkward little-kid kind of wave before heading home.

For date three (yes, there was a date three...), Serial Killer suggested a couple of other movies, both of which were sequels and neither of which held any interest for me. I countered with the suggestion we go see Bodies, which ended up being awesome (despite his somewhat inappropriate comments about genitalia throughout the exhibition).

After we viewed enough bodies and I held a human heart and brain (he declined. Fancy that), he mentioned being hungry (fancy that), and we ended up in Old Town for a bite to eat and a stroll along the waterfront. The evening was nice, and we hung out for a bit before I dropped him at the Metro and headed home (less worried this time that he was secretly following me).

That was something like a month ago now. He's been asking for another date, and I've successfully avoided agreeing because I've been legitimately busy with a variety of things. The next two weekends have pretty much already taken care of themselves in terms of my not being available.

Before I wrote this (and poured obsessively over the serial killer articles on Wiki pretty much all day today), I thought I was being too hard on the guy. Obviously, no. Something about him creeps me out, and even if it is more pronounced when I'm not around him, there's really no reason for me to keep subjecting myself to the agony that precedes these meetings.

My conundrum is this: What can I say to a guy who seriously creeps me out that will let him know once and for all that I am not interested in dating him without making him stalk me out and really earn his sobriquet?


[1] The fact that he picked a movie this terrible is somehow more disturbing to me than the fact that he picked a movie about a serial killer. I'm not sure what that says about me, really. [Up]
[2] That's not to say I think Kids was a bad movie. It's just not a good date movie. [Up]