Last night, while driving home from salsa at 2:00 am, I found myself sitting at a Punishment Light (an endlessly long red light) next to a beige Kia in which sat a White Male giving me the Full Serial Killer Stare Off. He looked like a cuter Ted Bundy with more method acting training. I tried fidgeting with my phone, but every time I glanced over he was still at it.

"Roll down your window," he yelled.

"You're making me very uncomfortable," I told him.

"Where are you going?"

To a police station?

"Home."

"Where's that?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

Because you're scary.

"Do you have any wine at home?"

Best case scenario: he's a sociopath who picks up women at 2:00 am on Sunday mornings and then takes him to his house where he keeps them in a hole in the basement. Worst case scenario: dating in Los Angeles has devolved to this state of affairs, and Ted Bundy's twin picks up women at Punishment Lights because IT'S WORKED IN THE PAST. I can't believe I'd be happier to know that he was a Serial Killer.

Whatever he is, he turned left and I turned down a street that doesn't lead home, while I worked on better one liners for turning down his offer.

"I'd love to open that Malbec and hear about your escape from the penitentiary, but I do have to work tomorrow." (Work? Total lie.).

"I don't think wine and lithium mix very well..."

"Have you studied Meisner or Stanislavski?"

Just for today, I'm scared of single white males.