a) I’m a sabotager
It’s the end of a drunken bar crawl...I look over and see my friend making out with a guy. A few feet away I’m chatting with his friend who’s wasted and keeps buying us shots. IT’S TIME TO GO HOME. In order to get out of there, I give this finance asswipe my number and leave. The next morning (a few hours later) I wake up to 5 missed calls and 11 texts from this douche. A little persistent, aye?
I barge into the living room and ask my roommate “who the hell is this stalker from last night??” (Her memory was always better than mine). Hmmm….she nonchalantly grabs a pen, a napkin and starts drawing what can only be described as a Herman Munster stick figure. “WTF, are you serious,” I say?? “Ok maybe his forehead wasn’t really thaaattttt big,” she chuckles. “Just go out with him, what do you have to lose?” “Are you crazy—LISTEN to these messages—why would I go out with this freak??” I say. “Because you haven’t been on a date in AGES,” she reminds me “at the very least it will make for a good story….just consider it practice” (love when people say this one). Rusty yes…desperate no…but “OK, FINE!” I say.
I pick a bar that I’m familiar with for the dreaded encounter, a “safe place” so to speak. I get there a few minutes early because other than the stick figure napkin sketch in my pocket, I had NO idea what this guy looked like. I walk towards the back of the bar looking for a place to sit and this SEXY Latino reaches his arms out and says “Heeyyyy—wanna do a shot with us?” “Ummm…….what??” I smirk. “Do I know you?” I say. “No…but do you like whiskey?” “Uh, HELL YEA, I do!” (Why couldn’t this guy be my date?!) Loving this sexy Latino and his drunk friends, I quickly confide how I was there for a blind date to meet some guy who seemed like a total douchebag (come on—I couldn’t tell him it was really just beer goggles!). We throw back whiskeys and are having a grand ‘ol time when all of a sudden I feel a creepy tap on my shoulder. Like a geeky dad breaking up the cool kid’s party….it was HIM. Stalker finance asswipe in the flesh and he was WORSE than I could have imagined. I cringe. He looks at me confused and I tell him I just happened to bump into these old friends who bought me a shot. He looks skeptical but nevertheless, we mosey to the bar.
Within 5 minutes this guy has bragged about his job, his apartment and all of his other riches, and has tried to stick his tongue down my throat which I have successfully dodged like a flying bullet. REALLY?! The bartender gives me a sympathetic glance. I head straight for the bathroom and start bbm’ing all of my friends. I need an exit plan—STAT. I start explaining that I have to leave soon for a birthday party—“Great” he says, “I’ll come with you.” Ugh, I was a prisoner—I knew he was NOT going to let me out of there alone! The Latino stops by on his way out with his friends. “Nice meeting you he says as he shakes my hand which slyly (or not so slyly) has his business card inside. Asswipe vexed “I thought he was an old friend.” “Umm…what?” I can’t be bothered-ly mutter as I stare at my Latino walking out the door. ”Ohhh, yea….I meant the other one was”—he didn’t buy it but whatever, at least I got the Latinos number, score! All I could think about was getting out of there to meet my friends.
I chug my drink AS FAST as I can. And then it happens. By the grace of God, asswipe gets a phone call. I give him a dirty look as he picks it up—because by now I totally detest him. “I’ll be right back, I need to take this outside,” he says. This is IT—my window of opportunity to escape! I grabbed my clutch and bee-lined for the door. He’s right there, still on the phone and looks at me shaking his hands up in the air in disbelief like—WHAT?! I start a mild jog and wave, shouting “GOTTA GO, BYE—THANKS FOR THE DRINK!!” I meet my friends at a bar down the street. As I start telling them the horror story that just occurred, a hot guy grabs my arm. It’s someone that I went to college with. He starts flirting with me with his weeping willow eyes. We make out like we should have when we were in college. I can feel my phone buzzing from texts from my new Latino. This rainy night was salvageable after all.
My friend was right, it WAS good to go out and give it a chance—it DID make for a story! I don’t know what it is but it’s like men can smell each other and when you are out with one the others all want a piece of the action. Well, the same is true for this gal. When I’m out with one guy, ALL I want is to talk to EVERY other guy in the room. So while you might question whether this was actually a sabotage since I didn’t like the asswipe in the first place the truth is….if you replace this story with a guy that I actually DO like I’m afraid not much of the rest of it would change!
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