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Thankfully I was brought up in a time before online dating services, etc. "Computer dating" was this awkward thing that was difficult to use, so I did it the old-fashioned way: meeting people in person.

(As a side note that I promise is entirely unrelated to the rest of this post, I was brought up by what Brits would call an RSM, but in Canada is a Chief Warrant Officer. One from the infantry. Don't file that away for later. It's entirely unrelated.)

So I met Hans after having him introduced to me by some mutual acquaintances. Not friends, just people I knew, and who he also knew. He seemed nice enough in the club, so when he asked for dinner later, that seemed fine by me. A few alarm bells started to happen over dinner however, chief among which were:

1. He treated service staff like shit. That's a HUGE red flag for me and pretty much tanked the "future dates" option forever.
2. He mentioned several times how much he really likes "Asian women". (Yikes! Yes, Hans. What every woman wants to hear is that you've just reduced them to an ethnicity and a resulting fetish object.) That's another huge red flag for me (this one from previous experience).
3. He ordered for me. Not on behalf of me after I'd told him what I wanted. He'd decided what I wanted to eat.
4. Now I'm not exactly above a bit of drinking (like the sea is not exactly above the clouds) but something in the almost strategic way he kept instantly refilling my glass when I'd taken a mouthful was not sitting right with me.

(Another side note for people not experienced in dating: if someone is trying to subtly intoxicate you more than you want to be intoxicated, GET THE FUCK OUT RIGHT AWAY! This ain't goin' anywhere nice. Don't be polite. Don't give them another chance. Your physical safety is waaaaaaaaaaaaay more important than their fee fees. And maybe you won't have to pull a blade. Oopsie! I accidentally foreshadowed!)

So after the increasingly alarm-raising meal, he drove me to where he thought my home was. (I never reveal that on the first date for reasons which should be obvious by now. There was another three-block walk home.) We then had a conversation that went something like this:

Me: Goodnight. Thanks for the meal.

Hans: You're not going to invite me in?

M: It's late and I have to get up early tomorrow.

H: I spent DM on this meal. I expect something for the expense!

That's when he reached for me, clearly angry, clearly making a grab. And that's where the completely unrelated fact about my father comes into the picture. (I lied, see.)

He was bigger than me, stronger than me, and I was in a pretty tight car (Opel). I wasn't going to be getting out before he had a hold of me. So I didn't. I moved in toward him. Specifically I head-butted him in the face. By the time he'd registered what had happened I had the knife out and pointed ... well, where he wanted me to show attention obviously. See, Dad taught me a few things, one of those being "do not escalate: bypass it all and go straight for blood" (paired with unconventional attacks that will get past people playing the escalation game). He grabbed for me so I eschewed the usual process of protesting, struggling, trying to escape, screaming for help, etc. while he would have escalated to a tighter grab, maybe over mouth, and further violence. I went straight for the violence and initiated it, wrecking his script.

The other thing Dad taught me was to a) always carry a knife, b) make sure the knife is easily pulled out, and c) how to use it. So poor Hans had to live with the fact that the woman he was almost certainly about to assault now had a wickedly sharp blade at his junk and a face that said she not only could, but was a hairsbreadth away from "would", use it.

Me: Goodnight. Hans. Get your hands off me. Put your hands on the steering wheel.

Hans: <A long stream of local dialect I couldn't follow. It didn't sound nice.>

And after that I took the long way home to make sure he didn't somehow follow me.