Monthly Archives: February 2011

Major Date #Fail

Standard

I’m trying to figure out how much background to give on this guy. There really isn’t a ton, but these are what I consider to be the major highlights:

1) Prior to the story presented below, we had not had an official “date.” However, we did meet for lunch the prior Sunday (the 30th) for an hour, so we had met before
2) Keep in mind, while reading this, that some of the decisions I made are probably a little questionable
3) At no time, during the date, did I feel uncomfortable at what was going on. More humorous than anything. If I had felt uneasy, I would have booked it long before I did.
4) Also keep in mind: We met up at 6:30, and I was home by 10:15. All this happened in the span of less than 4 hours.

Okay, so here we go. This story goes from annoyingly amusing, to weirdly funny to downright mean. Its quite the span. Even for one of my dates.

So Mike and I were planning on having our second date (or first date, depending on how you define the lunch thing mentioned in #1 above) this past Tuesday. Dinner then a rousing game of Scrabble at his place. One of the many things we had in common were grandmothers who were obsessed with Scrabble and instilled a love of the game in us. Sounded like a great time to me. However, with Mother Nature being as weird as she is this winter, we had a major snowstorm on Tuesday night, so the date got postponed until Friday.
We agreed to meet at the restaurant (since it was halfway in-between both our houses) and then drive to his place for Scrabble afterwards. My awesomely protective cousin had me text both Mike’s phone number and address to her so she could know where I was that night.. (Love you, Heidi!) So I drive to the restaurant, and it is packed. There is not a place to park in the strip mall parking lot, or even in the adjacent parking lot. As I’m driving around the lot, I call Mike and let him know that it is completely full. He said, “Yeah, I see that, I’m here too. How about we drop your car off at my place and I’ll drive us to someplace else?” Okay, fine by me.

We get to his house, pull in, and he gets out of his jeep and lets me in the house. I had brought a bottle of wine with me to drink when we were at his place and I needed to put it in the fridge to chill. I said, “Well, you might as well give me the grand tour now,” so we proceeded to look around his house. He has a really nice house. 3 bedrooms, 3 full baths. We get upstairs and he shows me his room. I said, “Ahhh, so this is where the magic happens?” He said, “This is where the Scrabble magic will happen!” and points to his bed, where he has the Scrabble box sitting. I said, “Oh really?”

We head back downstairs and he says, “Do you want a drink first, before we head out?” I said, “Sure, why not?” So he opens the fridge and gets out this huge jug of pink lemonade and pours a glass. He hands it to me. “Try this, its amazing.” I do and its vodka lemonade. “Yes, but its *pink* lemonade,” he said. Because the color negates the fact it’s a drink that teenage girls have been getting sauced on for years… “Its not bad,” I said. He downs the rest of the glass and we head out.

We get into his jeep and he tells me that he has the perfect place he wants to go, Restaurant B. I have never heard of this place, but apparently its one of the best places in town and he wants to take me there. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you back to Restaurant A (the place we had originally planned to go) some other time.” Since I am a lover all food, I said, “Sounds good to me.” We drive to Restaurant B, find a spot right in front, and park. He comes over and opens my door for me and holds my hand as we’re walking across the street, since there are huge snowdrifts in the way. We get up to the door, he looks in and says, “Nope, too busy, let’s go someplace else.” I glance over and I don’t see people waiting in line, but the tables all appear to be full. “Are you sure?” I asked him. “Yep. Too busy.” So we plod back to the jeep, he opens my door for me, and we drive off.

“Well now where do you want to go?” he asks me. “I don’t care, I told you that I am letting you decide,” I say. He drives along in silence for a bit and then turns down one of the main drags in town. “Where are we going?” I asked. “You’ll see,” he said. We pull into Restaurant C, and he just drives through the lot and out the other side. “Too full. We’d have to wait forever,” he says. Since we’re near the south side of town, I said, “How about Restaurant D? They have great pizza.” He says, “We can drive by and see how it is.” We drive by and, yep, you guessed it, too full. At this point I am hungry and slightly annoyed. “You do realize that its almost 7:00 on a Friday, right? We’re going to have to wait wherever we go.” He says, “Not if we get take out.”

Me: I don’t want take out.
Him: Not like take out Chinese, but we can get it from Restaurant E of F.
Me: Still, I would prefer not to have take out.
Him: Why not?
Me: Because we’ll order it, wait around for it to be done, then have to drive it back to your place. If we eat there, when its done, we can just eat right away.
Him: Take out is faster.
Me: No its not.
Him: Yes it is.
Me: Seriously, when I plan on going out to eat, I want to go OUT to eat. I don’t want to pick it up and eat at home. If I had wanted to eat at home, then I would’ve just stayed in and not gone out at all.
Him: Well I want take out from Restaurant F.
Me: (sighing) Fine.
Him: Are you okay with that?
Me: I guess so. I just don’t really enjoy take out.
Him: Yeah, I know. Its only the 250th time you’ve said that. Getting all high maintenance on me.

So we head back to his place, and he orders pizza and salad from Restaurant F. I’m sort of blasé at this point about dinner. It was like arguing with a 3 year old kid. He had his mind made up and there was nothing I could do to change it, so I gave in. After he ordered, he poured another tall vodka lemonade and was downing it. “You’ll have to drive to go pick up the pizza,” he said. “Why,” I asked. “Because this is my 5th one of these tonight, and I usually don’t drink very much.”

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so then why start now?

So we get ready to leave and he decides he’s okay to drive. I honestly couldn’t see any signs of drunkenness, slurring words or anything, so I figured he was fibbing a bit on the drinking. Especially since the jug was still ¾ full. We go get the pizza, he parks and goes in. I am immediately on the phone with Heidi, relaying the story so far. “Its like arguing with a kid,” I said. “There’s no reasoning with him.”

He suddenly pops out, sans pizza, and I hang up on Heidi and roll down the window. “What’s up,” I ask. “Not ready yet?”

“No,” he says. “Just a couple more minutes though.”We sit there for a second, then he says, “You should kiss the guy who is leaning in your car right now.”

Now excuse me, I am not one to be bossed around, so I said, “Well this isn’t my car.” (OH SNAP)
He said, “Fine. You should kiss the guy who is leaning in your window right now.” So I leaned over and gave him a quick smooch on the lips. He seemed placated and went back inside. A couple minutes later, he comes back out with the pizza.

We drive back to his house and start getting stuff around in the kitchen. I open the bottle of wine I brought and pout myself a glass. He asks me if I need a plate or a fork. “Both,” I said. “Ohhhh getting all high maintenance on me again, are ya?” I just look at him and he says, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” he gathers up the stuff and starts leaving the kitchen. I said, “Where are you going?” He said, “Up to my room, so we can eat and play Scrabble.” I said, “Are you seriously going to make me play Scrabble in your room?” He said, “Yes. That’s where I have the best TV at.” So I give him a dubious look (I’m not really sure what sort of look that is, but I’ve always wanted to give someone a dubious look, so why not him?) and head up to his room.
Now, before I go any further, because you’ll need this for reference for a few upcoming tidbits, here is a horribly drawn floorplan of Mike’s bedroom:

Okay, so I am feeling a little better about the situation because its not like we’re sitting on the bed, or even touching one another. And yeah, he did have a better TV upstairs than downstairs. So no dubious look warranted.

So now we enter the weirdly funny part of the evening.

Prior to our meeting, we had talked on the phone quite a bit. One of the things that came up was smoking pot. I told him that I don’t mind if people smoke pot, some of my best friends do. I just don’t because of my job, and mainly because it doesn’t really interest me. However, I don’t care if anyone does it, just keep it away from me because I *hate* the smell of it. So Mike puts the pizza down on the bed and gets up to go into his bathroom. He opens the cabinet until the sink and pulls out this 18 inch bong. Seriously. It was large. He laughs and shows it to me. I said, “Niiiiiiiiiiiiiice.” He then goes, “I gotta go to the bathroom, hang on.” He shuts the door and I immediately hear a bunch of gurgling noise. Yeah. He took a nice long hit. Great. Just… awesome. Two thumbs up. He walks out and looks at me and I said, “Had to use the bathroom, huh?” And he laughs and said, “Yeah, I know, but I know you hate the smell so I kept the door closed.” “Awww what a nice guy,” I say, not mentioning the minute he opened the bathroom door this huge waft of smoke/smell came out after him.

(And now that I am thinking about this, this totally explains why he wanted pizza for dinner!!! OMG!! Never thought about that til just now.)

We eat pizza and watch Tosh.0 (Great series, btw, everyone. If you haven’t ever seen it, Comedy Central.) I’m feeling okay. My glass of wine is almost gone, conversation is good, etc. So he asks me if I’m done and I said yes and he gathers up the boxes, my high-falutin’ plate and fork and takes them downstairs. He comes back up and asks me, “Would you mind setting up the Scrabble board? I’d like to get comfy.” I said, “No problem.” He was standing in his closet door and he starts taking his boots off. Now, he was still in his work clothes: t-shirt covered by a button up cotton dress shirt, nice jeans and boots. Okay, so he starts taking his boots off. I lean over and start putting together the board. I turn around to say something to him, and
HE IS STANDING THERE WITH HIS PANTS OFF.

He had boxers on, granted, but…

HE IS STANDING THERE WITH HIS PANTS OFF.

I blink and said, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I think I’m going to run downstairs and get my bottle of wine and bring it up.” So I dash out. The funny thing is, I am trying hard not to giggle. Again, I in no way feel uneasy because he hasn’t advanced on me or anything. The thing going through my mind is, “Just when I think I’ve had it all happen to me…”

So I go downstairs and fire off some quicky text messages:

Heidi: OMG HE JUST DEPANTSED
John: On a date.. At his place.. He sd he had to get comfy then TOOK HIS PANTS OFF

And I mentioned something about it on Facebook too, I believe.

So I dash back upstairs, bottle of wine in hand, and he now has on basketball shorts and a t-shirt. WHEW. Crisis averted for now. We commence with the Scrabble playing and I was worried that he’d be spelling all stupid sex words and everything, but honestly, it was a great game. I think I won by 15 or so. (Grandma would be proud.) After the game was over, he starts putting it away and I said, “What? You don’t want to play another game and get beaten again?” He said, “No, Scrabble is a game you only play once a day.” (See, I KNEW I needed to read the official rules one of these days.) He packs up the board, I pour my 3rd wine glass of the night (well, it was more of a mug, really) and he says, “I need to use the bathroom.” And again, gurgling. At this point I’m thinking, really dude? Why even pretend at this point? But I don’t say anything when he comes out, not even when I’m drenched in a cloud created from bong water droplets.

He asks if I want to watch a movie. I said, “Sure, why not?” (To give you a time reference, it was about 9:00 at this point.) He pats the bed next to him and says, “Come on over here.” I said, “Ummmm I dunno. I may just sit here and watch it.” He said, “Seriously, come on, I just want to snuggle while we watch the movie.”

Okay guys, how many times have women fallen for that when you’ve said it? I’m guessing about 100%. I always seem to.

So I hop up on the bed, and he’s behind me and we’re snuggling and watching Rambo. (And yes, the movie was my choice.. anyone who knows me well knows I love action movies with lots of violence.) His hands start rubbing my shoulders, back, etc and long story short (TOO LATE!): we start making out. Now, I’m not going to go into details on that, but a few things to mention:

1. He was an okay kisser is all. On a scale of 1-10, I’d give him maybe a 6.5. Soft lips, but his tongue work is best described as “Eh.”
2. I blame the fact the making out session started on the entire bottle of wine I consumed in less than an hour and a half.
3. He had the TV version of Rambo on his DVR. Seriously? The TV version?

So after about 20-30 minutes of making out, I sort of scoot away and say, “We gotta put the brakes on this. I can’t…” He looks at me and says, “Really?” And I said, “Yeah.” He lays there for a second and says, “Okay.” Then gets up and heads to the bathroom. Again, not to pee. (And I’m going to tell myself it was JUST a bong hit and not a cover up for something else… SICKOS.) He then comes back out and joins me back on the bed to keep watching the movie.

Now comes the downright mean part.

We’re laying there for 5-10 minutes, and he isn’t doing anything. Not talking to me, not assuming the snuggling position with me again, nothing. So based on his recreational activities, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. I turn over and look at him and nope, he’s wide awake, staring at the TV. He looks at me and simply says, “What?”

I don’t say anything for a second because in my gut, I know what’s going on. But…

“Um… do you want me to leave or something?”
He says, “Yeah. Well no. I mean, only if you want to.”

I kinda nod and say, “Well, I guess I’ll leave then.” I’m taking some slow breaths at this point, trying not to get really pissed off and start yelling at him. I lean over and put my socks and my shoes back on. I stand up, grab my wine mug and turn around to look at him.

He says, “Do you want me to walk you to the door?”
I said, “Only if you want to.”
He pauses, then says, “Nah, I’m comfortable right here.”

I just stare at him for a second, then I start to walk out of the room. Now if those weren’t bad enough, the comment he made that hit me the hardest came next. He called out after me, “Hey. Could you go out through the front door? I don’t want to have to get up and shut the garage door again after you leave.”

I didn’t even dignify that with a response.

I’m walking down the dark hallway and he yells, “Do you need a lightswitch? There’s one at the top of the stairs.” I yell back, “No!” I go to the kitchen, put my wine mug in the sink, grab my purse and coat and head out the front door. I got into the car, started up and dialed Heidi. It was around 10:00. “You are never going to believe what he just did…”

Now this is the end of the date part of my blog post. What follows is my reaction to it and my feelings about myself and everything. So if you’re not into that aspect of it (and I don’t think its complainy) you can probably skip. Basically the previous part is the funny, this next part is the serious.

When I left his house, I was walking a fine line between being angry and crying my eyes out. I was so pissed off on so many levels. Up until that point, he had actually been a really decent guy. I never felt like he was going to try and pressure me to do anything I didn’t want to (and he actually didn’t..), so I never felt uncomfortable about spending so much time in his room. But the way he spoke and what he said, he was just so… upset that nothing progressed past the point it did, which made me realize he was expecting it all night long, he was just really good at hiding it. Again, in retrospect, I probably should have known that, being the setting we were in, but when a guy doesn’t try and put the moves on you prior to that, you get to thinking, “Okay, so he’s willing to take it at a slow pace. Awesome.” No, he wasn’t. I was pissed that someone of his age (39) would behave so childishly. I mean seriously, we were making out. There’s a pretty good chance, had we had another date, something more might have went down. You can’t wait a couple more days? But to turn and just get MEAN… I don’t GET it. So then you start second guessing EVERYTHING and wonder how long he had been just planning on trying to get a piece of ass. So then I start over-thinking everything and that pissed me off more, feeling like couldn’t trust my instincts any more.

But then the crying my eyes out part hit me. I honestly have not felt that low in a really long time. To be 100% honest with you, I felt worthless, I felt cheap and I felt completely disposable. I am the kind of person who has a pretty high self-esteem and it takes something pretty major to shoot holes in it. And this did. This did a lot. That’s probably why I was so upset about it afterwards.. the effect it had on me. I had something similar to this happen to me when I lived in the Quad Cities 10 years ago, but nothing since. Most of my horrible dating stories I can usually laugh off, and this one I can in certain parts, but not all of it. Just the way I was spoken to at the end, when I made a decision based on how I was feeling at the time, to made to feel like I was worthless.. that really hit me hard. I was still thinking about it the next day. I’m probably not even putting it into the right words, either.

I’m sort of at a point where I’m contemplating giving up. Or at least taking a break for awhile. As corny as it sounds, I think I may need time to recover from this. The problem I am having is I KNOW there are great guys out there. I KNOW there are ones that I would have a great relationship with. I can think of 3 off the top of my head. Problem is, 2 of the 3 are already taken, so completely off-limits unless their situation changes, and the 3rd doesn’t live close by. So I KNOW they exist. I just can’t seem to attract them. And again, now is where this hit to my self-esteem comes in. Maybe I’m not cute enough, maybe I talk too loud, maybe I say the word “fuck” too much, maybe I’m too opinionated, maybe I’m not girly enough, maybe the only great thing about me is my boobs. You know, at least when Dave and I were dating, granted he ended up screwing someone else, but at least he treated me great while we were together.

I don’t know.

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