Klit Killer: The Knuckle Cracker
The world is small, even in a city like New York, and even on the Internet.
As anyone who has done some online dating and cruising knows that if you search for matches nearby, you’re bound to come across someone you already know. And last night that someone was a person I encountered at a friend’s birthday party a couple of years ago that took place in a nightclub. I don’t remember his name, but I call him the Knuckle Cracker.
He was moderately attractive in a nerdy Jewish sort of way–dark hair, dark eyes, glasses–and he was single and male. (At birthday parties that take place on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, that is no mean feat.) Anyway, as the party tapered off and more people left, I f0und myself sitting next to him on a couch in the dimly lit club.
This is when you’d think he make his move. And he did, in his own weird way. Grasping my hand, he tugged on my ring finger. Hard. Till the knuckle cracked.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Cracking your knuckle,” he responded.
“Because I want to,” he answered. “Do you like it?”
He looked at me like he expected me to say “yes.” He reached for another finger, getting ready to give it a tug. I pulled my hand back and stood up. “What are you doing?”
I walked away and hovered near my friend for the remainder of the night until she was ready to leave her own birthday party. On my way out, I passed the “knuckle cracker” and perhaps because I hoped to help girls he would flirt with in the future, I gave him a bit of advice. “Never crack a woman’s knuckles,” I advised him.
I hope he listened to me. And if he didn’t, I hope he at least listed this predilection on his OkCupid profile.
[Here is the original blog post about this incident.]