I was living in Las Vegas. He was a headliner at a casino. He had been on Letterman and The Tonight Show. We met through Match.com.
No, it’s not Criss Angel, whose greatest magic trick is making his c**k disappear into lots of different women.
We meet at the Rio. The Headliner was attractive, well-dressed, but had a nasty habit of making cynical put-downs. We have drinks, and go to dinner. We share stories about our lives, how I rescue animals, how his former wife was a barfly.
He name drops, even calling someone famous and getting them to talk to me (not that I asked.) He makes an offensive comment about how he isn’t “sure yet” if I would be able to “handle” hanging with his amazing celeb friends. He would “have to see.” As if his behavior and manners are impeccable, but I could star in Swamp People.
At 3:00 am I tell him I need to go. Suddenly, everything changes, and he becomes Psycho Headliner from Hell.
He rants angrily about me dating “other men” from Match. I get up from the bar and head to the elevator to get away from him. He follows me into the elevator still raving.
Now I’m in an elevator–alone–with a raging lunatic in a deserted casino. Oh, sure cameras are watching us, and maybe the person manning them isn’t sound asleep, but there isn’t a soul around.
He says nastily: “On the way to your car, you will no doubt pick up another man…or woman…or possibly dogs or cats.”
Ah, did he just accuse me of bestiality?? Sure sounds like it.
I snap, “You are being very inappropriate, and that comment completely crossed the line!”
He didn’t respond, but instead looked at me with a completely dead blank stare.
Oh, great. Now I’m in an elevator—alone—with a raging Psycho Headliner in some kind of fugue state.
I feel like I’m about to be Angie Dickinson in that old classic Dressed to Kill where she gets stabbed to death in an elevator.
The door opens up, and I make a mad dash for my car.
He yells toward me, “Say, could you give me a ride? My car is parked way over…”
[What’s with these losers, after seriously blowing the date, want rides to their frickin’ cars?]
I come home to find Psycho Headliner has left a charming message, in a sweet voice, on my voice mail.
You didn’t think that was the end of it with this lunatic, did you?
To be Continued…