Monday, January 16, 2006

Ha, Ha, Ha

When I first met B., I might (must) have been hammered because I clearly had no idea of who I was going out with this past Friday night. I had some vague memory of a hottie with scruff and a knit cap...luckily I made him picK me up at my apartment, otherwise I would never in a gazillion years have recognized him in a crowded bar.

I thanked my lucky stars I wore my low flats. As it was, I was about six inches taller than him. If I'd have worn heels, well, I wouldn't exactly feel cute and teeny. Oh and nice Gap coat with the fur trim, B.

Things start innocuously enough. We exchange pleasantries on the short walk to the restaurant, and sit down at the bar to wait for our tables, still chatting about this and that. I feel comfortable and fine though of course at first glance know that this isn't exactly going to GO anywhere. Then there's even a point when we sit down and start eating that I think, this guy's not so bad. He's kind of...

Scratch that. Things take a precipitous drop when we're talking about our families and I start to explain that my mom's sister is mentally retarded (not a joke) and he actually laughs and talks in a retarded voice. WHAT THE FUCK?! He's not even some sort of hot prick who thinks he can get away with shit like that. It's all I can do to not reach across the table and tear his face off. I am not sure if he even gets the enormity of his mistake.

To think I had fantasized about fucking the shit out of this guy. What can I say, he had a sexy phone voice. Anyway, B. continues on: he's not close with his family because they're jealous he lives in NYC and makes more money than they do; he has an online dating profile that's really freakin wierd (sorry no details, I tuned out); he laughs maniacally at himself; he is a ten-minute miler; and on and on and on.

My eyes are fully glazing over and I am trying to think of how to extricate myself. No such luck. He guides my elbow in the opposite direction from my apartment, saying he needs to walk off the dinner. Damn, I'm his whore because he bought me a nice dinner! He coerces me into one more drink and I just laugh to myself. I mean, why take it seriously?

We sit down and by this point he himself is acting retarded. I think he is super bombed and I'm not even really buzzed. Shortly thereafter, he leans back in his barstool and studies me thoughtfully. 'I wonder what would happen if I kissed you right now' he says. I want to puke but instead pull the whole, "Oh I don't do that on the first date, I try to take things slow and delay gratification.' YEAH RIGHT! So he backpedals but then a couple of minutes later reaches over, take my face in his hands and kisses me. Luckily he doesn't really use his tongue so he can't taste the vomit that is in my mouth. I bite my lip to keep from bursting out laughing.

Luckily I had formulated some excuse in advance about having to get up early and plus he is wasted so we get up and leave. He walks me to my door and in front of the 30 or so people leans UP to kiss me.

I pull away, uncomfortable on so many levels. This is the zinger. He says, "Why are you so scared of me?"

I cannot even protest anymore. I just smirk at him. "One more," he says.

No freakin way!

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