Listen, it's the Nugget here, and I feel like I need to apologize. A few weeks ago, while having a going away party for Miss Adventures and the Mighty Musician (WHAT?! I know!), the subject of this very blog came up. One of Mighty Musician's friends, who'd never read the blog before, immediately pulled it up on his fancy smart phone. "June 28th was your last post?!" he asked incredulously. I stared at my shoes guiltily. "People are going to think you and Miss Adventures found partners and are living happily ever after." That's only half true, thank goodness for you, dear readers! Oh yes, things in my dating world have been just as peachy as ever, and I'm sure you're just dying to hear about it.
About two months ago, I had a terrible, terrible dating weekend. That Friday evening, I had a date with this adorable bald, punk, vegan dude. We had made plans about a week earlier, and he texted Thursday night to confirm. Perfect! I love it when dates confirm, because I'm one of those people that rechecks the time and date about a million times in my calendar (and even then, I've totally gotten it wrong). So, Friday evening, I'm looking cute as can be, and stroll into the bar that we agreed upon about 10 minutes early (to an encouraging wink from the long-haired metal dude working the door). I took a quick walk around the very spread out bar make sure he wasn't there...nope. Not a bald vegan in sight. So, I settled in on a bar stool, ordered a drink, and sent a text letting him know I'd arrived. And waited. And waited. And waited. 15 minutes in, I figured he was just running a little late, and wasn't able to text because he was riding his bike there. 20 minutes in, I was rechecking our confirmation conversation to make sure I had the right place, date and time. 25 minutes in, I circled the bar once more to make sure I hadn't somehow missed him (like I did the first time I met Miss Adventures). 30 minutes in found me having a conversation with the bartender about how I was pretty positive I was being stood up. 35 minutes in, I sent him a text saying, "So...I'm pretty sure I've been stood up and I'm going to take off. Have a lovely evening." 40 minutes in and still no response, I made good on that and headed home (with a nice wave from the metal dude at the door).
The next morning, I woke up pretty excited. I had a response to my ad! From a lady! That almost never happens, so after having a little celebration, I settled in to read her response and peruse her profile. The response was super sweet and attentive, littered with sincere compliments and references to things she enjoyed about my profile. It ended with her asking me on a date. Before I responded, I checked out her profile. Hm, that's odd...she looked vaguely familiar. Upon viewing more of her photos, I realized with horror: I knew this person. Not only that, I had gone on dates and been intimate with this person! About a year and a half to two years ago, I went to a women's party. This woman approached me at the bar and had a drink with me, soon asking for my phone number. We went on a few dates, the last one ending with me coming over to her place. The next morning, she texted me saying she thought I was too young for her, and that was the end of that. Now, here she was, in my dating inbox, having apparently lost all memory of the past two years. I gently reminded her by replying, "Hi. That sounds lovely! However, the last time we went through this, you decided that I was too young for you." She responded along the lines of, "I thought you maybe looked familiar! I apologize for that, I was going through a tough period in my life at the time, but I don't expect you to understand." Well, lovely.
The next day, I was still fuming about my previous days' encounters, but I had a DATE that night, and I was determined to make the best of things! We had plans to go to a local place that I had been meaning to check out, but when I visited their website, they were having some sort of medical marijuana fundraiser. That wasn't really my thing, so I texted my date for a back up plan. He suggested a Korean restaurant near his work. He got off at 6pm, and we agreed to meet at the restaurant at 7:30. As I was getting ready, a little cloud of pessimism started to form above my head. I shook it off, thinking it was just a product of the weekend's previous dating mishaps, put on some lip gloss, and headed over to the restaurant.
The place had two rows of inset booths, so that you couldn't see who was sitting in each one unless you were directly across from it. Thankfully, I found him in the first booth, already working on an impossibly large bottle of soju and an even larger bottle of beer. He was handsome, super tall, and a pretty witty guy, so my little cloud of pessimism started to lift. We chatted about politics, his childhood in Texas, and his job at the bar across the street.He then excused himself to go to the restroom, leaving me to stare at the posters decorating the booth and think of witty things to say. When he returned, there was a...shift. Suddenly, he was getting more aggressive with his words, and slurring his speech. I began to panic a little, as I'm sure I have a little PTSD from my mother's fairly recent death from alcoholism. I mentally tried to calm myself down, telling myself that everyone has a little too much sometimes, maybe he was just nervous, it wasn't that bad.
But he kept drinking. A few shots of soju and pints of beer later, he lost it. He went on a rant about how he should have warned me that he was a rampant alcoholic, and that he hated himself, and he moved all the way here to live the miserable life of a dishwasher, and what a fuck up he was. I nodded sympathetically, but inside my panic was growing and growing and growing until I tears started rolling down my cheeks and I just couldn't stop them. He noticed, and asked why I was so sad. I told him my mother was an alcoholic. He had another drink, and then started petting my face and trying to kiss my cheeks, telling me not to cry, that I was the most beautiful person he'd ever met and we were going to get married one day. I just sat there in silence, letting him apologize over and over, clinging to me, as I prayed for a waitress to come by.
Finally, I spotted one and flagged her down. She asked if we needed another drink, and I told her no, that we just needed the check. She disappeared, and I looked over to see my date putting a cigarette in his mouth, ready to light it. I took it and told him that he couldn't smoke in here, and once we got the check, we could go outside where he could have a smoke, and then I'd drive him home (as he was clearly in no state to be wandering around a questionable neighborhood in the dark). He hung his head, barely able to hold it up, and mumbled something incoherent. I reached for my purse to get my wallet, and he fumbled through his pockets for his. "No! Let me get it. It's the least I can do." He then realize the receipt would be a problem, since reading and writing were much too complex for him at this point. He just handed me his card with the instruction to "leave a big tip." Done.
I practically carried him out of the restaurant (no small feat, considering he was 6'2"), and stood nearby as he smoked his cigarette, once again going on with his self-deprecation. I waited for him to finish in silence. He finally made an attempt to ground out his cigarette (he missed), and I helped him to the car. "How do I get to your house?" After three or four tries, he was able to give me directions I could actually follow, and we were on our way. Thankfully, he lived pretty close, and we were only in the car long enough for him to get a very brief phone call (during which he cussed out the poor, unsuspecting caller and then clumsily hung up). I pulled up across the street from his house, and he struggled with the door. Fantastic. I was going to have to take this all the way. Okay. "Which house is yours?" He made a grand sweeping gesture that was, ultimately, not helpful. "What's your address?" He pondered a moment, and then gave it to me. I helped him across the street, and through the gate of his house. Luckily, his roommate was outside to direct me up the stairs, where I left him. "I'm never going to hear from you again," he mumbled, looking at the floor. "Don't worry," I replied. "You won't remember this in the morning." "Yes I will!" he shouted as I headed back to my car.
The next morning, he texted me, "Sorry I had too much to drink! I should have warned you." Apparently, he didn't remember anything. I reminded him of his bad behavior, and told him he seemed like a good dude, but I hoped he'd get help. I also decided that I'd had enough of bad dates for a while, and after the dates I'd already had planned for the coming week, I'd deactivate my dating profile.
Don't worry, kids! My knack for horrible dates didn't start with the Bay Area! I have plenty in the archives to regale you with while I'm in hiding.