Slugs (PART TWO)
Sometimes it is funny when people are a drunk mess. It is hilarious blackmail for a later date, especially if there are pictures. There are times when it isn’t that funny…one of which is a first date.
We were originally going to meeting for Sunday brunch but he didn’t realize it was Father’s Day so we switched to Saturday dinner. He had a couple of good date ideas including seeing a show in DC but he didn’t want to wear a mask and not see my face the whole night. I was looking forward to meeting him. He could hold up a conversation and seemed quick-witted.
Saturday afternoon he texts that he might be late because he is in the hospital. I offered to reschedule but he insisted on keeping our date. I was just hoping he didn’t keel over in the middle of appetizers (it would have been better if he had).
He looked different in person and carried himself confidently. Then the red flags appeared.
Red Flag 1: He was very demanding towards the wait staff. Abrupt and sent food back. Debated the check.
Red Flag 2: Talked very poorly about his ex-wife (well soon to be ex-wife). They had been separated for 6 months. (Why do guys always say they are divorced when they ARE NOT? Sigh…)
Red Flag 3: Told me about how he spent a night in jail for attempted murder.
Red Flag 4: Professed his judgement on people from the Philadelphia area, while being aware that is where I was from.
Red Flag 5: He got absolutely WASTED. We went to a bar after dinner (which was a penance). I figured, I was already here, I’ll see the date through to the end and never talk to this alleged attempted murderer again (Why would you ever tell someone who you are on a date with this information? Am I missing the part where this is something to be proud of?). As he got more and more drunk, he started rubbing my back and asking me about my sexual past along with preferences. I demurred. He was way too much and shared way too much about how often he needs to have sex.
At last, it was time to part ways. I asked him if he was ok to drive and he said he was fine. Obviously, that was the drunk version of fine since his once-styled hair was askance and he couldn’t walk straight. I refused to take responsibility. I mean, this guy is in his 40s. Know your limits.
The true horror of the night was when he kissed me. His tongue was like a slimy unsure slug roaming all around my mouth and over my chin. It was appalling. He started moaning about how good it was. Apparently, he was too drunk to notice my face scrunching up in disgust and flinching away from him. I had never experienced a kiss so grotesque. He tried to call me right after I got into my Uber but I wouldn’t answer that call in a million years.
I needed to wash my face. Pronto.
It was a typical night in the neighborhood. I was settled in with both my pup and the pup I was dog-sitting that evening. I was watching some reality TV but was about to get a dose of drama live.
My friend was about to go to a game in DC with her boyfriend who was in town. As she was finishing getting ready, the guy decides to call the Uber. Well…women take awhile to get ready. I mean, pretty sure that is highlighted in just about every television show and movie. He had to cancel the Uber. Instead of waiting until she was actually ready and found her keys, he called and cancelled several Uber rides. Then he said to forget about the game and started a fight about how he doesn’t deserve to be treated in that way. My friend was understandably upset. How exactly was she mistreating him? He had to cancel Uber rides that he booked even though he knew she wasn’t ready?
He just left her there, standing outside and took off. 20 minutes later, she is sitting on my couch telling me this story and then she gets a text from the guy. He went on and on about how badly she treats him; followed by a suggestion to go to a bar in DC instead of the game. My friend was perplexed – uhm, she would miss out on the game but would still have to go into DC and drink? She didn’t reply.
His next texts told her that he didn’t want to see her anymore and wished her luck in life. You would think that is the end of this story. You would be wrong.
He proceeded to call her numerous times into the early morning hours AND texted a GIF of a teddy bear holding a heart.
How does that align with dumping someone? Some men are a mystery.
I know am not the only one out there who has tried dating a friend – casual or close. Always a precarious situation to be in because you don’t want to tarnish a friendship. I don’t know why I put myself in that position – to disappoint someone who is a friend.
This man was an acquaintance that I had known for years. Football Sunday and beer with a group of various fans. We were not historically friends who would text or keep in touch outside of football days.
He asked me to get a drink. It was a fun night. I thought it might be awkward, but the conversation flowed easier than expected. He kissed me good night, which was unexpected but nice.
About a week later, I got a series of texts from him about why we should remain friends. The logic was sound, albeit oddly worded with phrases like “not into something short-term” and “don’t want to be next in line.” I wasn’t sure where those assumptions came from, but I respected his feelings and agreed that it would probably be best to remain friends.
About a month after that, he asked when I would have time to chat. I asked if everything was ok, and he said he wanted to discuss his “mistreatment of me” after the date. I assured him that everything was good from my side, and he didn’t have to explain anything. He insisted.
He shared that during our date, he realized we were quite different and wasn’t certain if we would be compatible. He said he still wanted to spend time with me and hang out at my house for dinner (Huh? Uhm…no?). He admitted we should have gone out on more dates before he decided to back out. He asked for another chance. This is where I went wrong. I was honest about being totally confused by the switch in his stance, but I waffled about giving it another shot. His indecision was a warning sign for me but I was caught in the niceness trap and not wanting to hurt anybody.
A couple of get togethers were planned but we never went out on a date again. A small part of me does wonder, what if? But I am trying to form better patterns and that includes not shitting where I eat.
I was in the bow of the boat enjoying the wind in my hair and unashamedly showing some of my underwear above my jeans to my date, the captain of our little vessel. I was young. Stupid. I thought that made me the flirty, fun, sexy girl that guys would want.
I had been on a few dates with this guy. He was very tall, had a nice little home tucked away in some woods, and a boat to take out. We would hang out at restaurants on the waterfront and people watch. We would watch Comedy Central and enjoy our latest dinner creation. We would make out on the couch. He was little aggressive in his kissing method…a bit pushy but it didn’t bother me to an extent that warning bells would go off.
One afternoon, after coming back from another boat ride, he asked if I wanted to take a nap with him. Of course, to him, that was code for sex. After a lot of making out in bed, he slid his hands from my waist up to my throat. At first it was a light pressure…he rolled me over to be mostly under him and his hand started to tighten around my throat. I told him I wasn’t into that, but he shushed me saying I would like it. He squeezed my throat to the point where I started coughing and losing air. My fingers flew up to his hand and started trying to pry it lose. I couldn’t stop him and I was scared.
He finished. I went home and cried. It took me a long time to process what happened that afternoon and I vowed to never allow it again.