DATE #3: Sarcastic Sam*

Those who know me personally, know that I can be quite sarcastic from time to time (or rather all the time) and often it's difficult to distinguish where I draw the line.

Sarcasm as a trait in a man is essential for me. Often described as a defense mechanism against criticism, sarcasm is my humor, not accepted by all but all mine nonetheless. So in my handy dandy profile, I've marked it as mandatory.

Thus meet Sam*: 32, Lawyer, said he was 6'2" but is only 5'7" and starts his first message to me with "I'm not a murderer so you should call me." My response was "if by chance you are a murderer, I don't want to be the one to call you because then I'm an accomplice."

So he called me and I didn't call back for 4 days. Not that I was playing hard to get on purpose, I was just busy. But I called him back and we spoke for about 30 minutes without saying one non-sarcastic truthful thing, which I'll admit, was kind of fun.

What's not fun is actually meeting and spending two hours trying to be honest and not being able to figure out what's sarcasm and what's not.

We met at a Tribeca bar, but not a super swanky kind - he was under-dressed and I was overdressed. I could tell instantaneously that there was no spark - I was taller than him in heels (I was wearing the heels not him).

We sat and talked about his job at the DA's office and about my friends in the mob (which apparently you shouldn't talk about with an assistant DA....) We talked about having people whacked and buying up New York City property with the billions of dollars he didn't have. We talked about how I'd make an awesome Juror since I have such high expectations and a severe moral code. He was very disappointed I don't live in Manhattan so I could be on one of his Grand Juries.

Then we discussed what we were looking for, and being two straight up people - I said I wasn't sure but that I definitely wouldn't be sleeping with him and he said he was into a friends with benefits. Obviously this wasn't going to work out for either of us.

I'll give the guy credit for being forward enough to admit the truth, even overshadowed by blind sarcasm, and for being funny enough to let me laugh at him. He walked me to the train, we took the same line in opposite directions, and he didn't seem to be crying too hard when hit him that there was no chance to get in my pants.

Should I feel bad for leading him on? I'm not sure I do. At least I didn't make him buy me dinner.

*Name changed for protection.