We had a pretty terrible phone conversation, but I decided to meet for drinks anyway. Maybe he would be less awkward in person. I chose a bar near me at an early time. My friend was having a party, so I figured if the date was bad I could go there after.
He arrived right on time and was actually much cuter than I expected. He took off his jacket and my heart swelled with joy at his muscular, chiseled frame (and by heart I mean labia).
I noticed right away that he was either really nervous and drinking himself into confidence OR he was a REALLY heavy drinker. I’m a heavy drinker. And he was lapping me.
After two drinks in quick succession he challenged me to a game of darts, which I happily agreed to. I love playing darts because it’s one “game” that I don’t completely suck at. As we began to play, he stated that we needed to have a wager. If he won, he got a kiss.
Clearly he had been watching like any friggin’ romantic comedy ever made.
Sure dude, whatever. Regardless of winning, if I like you I’m probably going to kiss you. But again, whatever.
He asked what I wanted if I won. I thought for a second, then replied, “How about you kiss….MY ASS?”
I honestly think I’m hilarious.
I’m also a tad bit delusional.
The game was progressing and we’re actually neck and neck. Within the first few minutes I got two bulls eyes and considered using the chalk to draw a big bulls eye on my butt cheek.
After he polished off two more beers, things began to take a turn for the worst. It was my turn, so I went to the line. What made this turn different, though, was he decided to stand behind me and roughly pull me against him.
Um, is that a dart in your pocket or are your just happy to see me? Dear Lord. Keep your erection to yourself.
Because I have a compulsive need to be pleasing and polite, I giggled uncomfortably and pushed him away, saying he was cheating. Am I the only person on earth who LAUGHS when they’re uncomfortable with a strange man manhandling them? How confusing.
Then it began to happen every time it was my turn. Things began to progress even more as he tried to kiss my ear and neck and whisper how hot I was.
Seriously, this was annoying. I’m about to school your ass in darts and to thank me you’re trying to stick your erection in mine.
I began to get irritated and told him he was making me uncomfortable and to please keep his hands to himself.
“Oh, you’re such a good girl” he said huskily to me, passion in his eyes.
If he only fucking knew.
I apparently wasn’t clear enough, as he then grabbed me and essentially licked my face. I grimaced and told him the game was over. He won. And he already got his winning face lick. I mean, kiss.
He said he wanted to go dancing next. I told him that I wasn’t going to go anywhere that would give him the opportunity to touch me. “Either there will be a LARGE table between us or other people. I don’t want you touching me.”
If those words aren’t a sure sign of a good date, I don’t know what is.
It was only 9 o’clock at this point, and I really wasn’t ready to go home.
I think back on this moment often and wonder WHY.
Instead of lying and saying I was going home, I told him I was going to a party. He wanted to come with me.
Against my better judgment, he drove us there. I said that we needed to stop on the way so I could get some booze.
We found a liquor store and I ran in. I probably was in there a tad bit longer than necessary only because the guy behind the counter began to talk to me in a foreign language.
Me: “I’m sorry. I don’t understand?”
Armenian Clerk: “What you are?”
Me: “Um, like, my heritage?”
Armenian Clerk: “Yes, me? I’m from Armenia.”
Me: “Oh, I’m half Greek, half German.”
Armenian Clerk: “Ah! I knew it!”
Then he began to speak to me in Greek.
Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t actually speak Greek. Just the bad words and a few good ones.”
I won’t bore you with the rest of the conversation, but we proceeded to get into how he served in the Armenian army and the first time he killed a man.
Seriously you guys, this stuff happens to me all the time. People want to talk to me about random things. And I’m usually too nice to stop them.
Long story short (TOO LATE), I run back to my date’s car and noticed all the windows were down.
Hmmmm, that’s odd. Considering it’s November.
We drove to the party and found a parking spot right in front. As we’re crossing the street, I noticed he was acting kind of weird.
“Are you high?” I asked incredulously.
“I smoked a little in the car while you were in the liquor store,” he answered nonchalantly with a shrug.
As we climbed the stairs to my friend’s condo (him trailing minutes behind me), I scolded him for smoking while I was away from the car. I mean, that’s kinda rude not to even offer your date some!
I introduced him to a few people standing near the doorway. But he would barely step into the room and his eyes were half mast. He also didn’t say a word for a good few minutes.
This was uncomfortable.
“I need to use the bathroom” he said to me.
I point out that it’s down the hall.
A few seconds later I heard a loud CRASH. BOOM. CRASH.
What. The. Fuck.
I peeked around the corner and I saw the bathroom door was wide open. I also saw my date passed out in the tub with his legs hanging over the lip of the bathtub. He had pulled down the shower curtain and rod.
“I don’t know what happened,” he whispered to me while shaking his head, eyes closed.
I pulled him up and sat him on the toilet. This wasn’t an easy feat given his above-mentioned muscles.
He shook his head, “This has never happened to me before. I don’t know what happened. I think those pale ales must have really hit me.”
Yeah. I’m sure it was all those pale ales. I’m sure it had nothing to do with you downing a whole joint on your own while I’m in the liquor store buying your ass more pale ale.
We got him some water and I offered to walk him downstairs to get some fresh air. The fresh air seemed to do him well. He lit a cigarette and seemed to snap out of it.
“So you want to go now to that jazz club or what?” he asked me.
This was unbelievable.
I explained to him that I thought it best he go home and went to hail a cab for him.
“No! No! No! I’m not going home!” he yelled at me. “I’m going to the jazz club.”
“Fine. Go to the jazz club. I’m going back to my friend’s party.”
I walked away quickly, barely even saying goodbye.
The rest of the night was nonstop ribbing from my friends. I mean, I seriously brought a guy to a party who, within five minutes of arriving, tore down their shower curtain and rod.
About an hour later I got a text from Mr. Clean: “I feel better now :) What a fun night.”
Don’t keep pot in your car. Maybe I’m weird about this one, but it just doesn’t seem like a good idea.
Don’t smoke pot in your car while your date runs into a liquor store to buy YOU booze. That’s rude. Share.
And most important, don’t invite morons who rub their dicks on you within the first hour of meeting to a party.
I’m such an asshole.