Adventures in Dating Part five

For many years I worked in bars and pubs. I actually miss the job, the hours were awesome, it was usually a fun atmosphere and the money….oh I miss the money! Anyways there was never a lack of guys asking me out. I’d like to say it was the awesomeness that is me but a lot of times it’s cuz you’re the only chick in the bar talking to them. Despite the fact that the only thing you’re saying to them is “do you wannanother?” men being men will still consider this communication from the female species and take it as meaning “she must want me”. I never dated anyone from the pub except for two exceptions. My ex whom I was with for about ten years and “Mr. Completely lacking balls, integrity and caring for anyone’s feelings other than his own I work in the movie industry and so I am great”.

It was after I stopped waitressing that I caved in and accepted a date from a guy who’d been trying for years to get me to go out with him. What the heck I thought, what harm could it do?

I met him at the pub and we immediately left to catch a cab to the Thai restaurant to which he was taking me. As we approached the cab I thought I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him stagger slightly. I dismissed it as just seeing things and got in the cab. By the time we got to the restaurant it was apparent that he had started the party ahead of me…much like “Mr. Coke will make me sober” guy. Wtf? Again? Is the prospect of going on a date with me so daunting that men feel they need to overly fortify themselves with liquor? I’d say maybe it was so terrible that they needed to numb themselves but hey they asked ME out!

I should have left right then and there but it wasn't unitl we were sat at our table and he had ordered a bottle of wine, that it became clear just how drunk he was. Thinking someone needed to take one for the team, the team being me and me being the only player on it, I took it upon myself to drink as much as the wine as possible because there was NO WAY IN HELL he should have been drinking anymore. The F word left his lips at the rapid pace of one per 7.67 seconds and not subtly either. (okay yeah yeah I’m no angel when it comes to the spoken language but come on, a least I don’t spout off in the middle of a nice place on a date) I was more than dreadfully aware of the people around us giving us those “looks”. I wanted to either have the ground swallow me up or leap across the table and ram my knife into his jugular... ANYTHING just to get this experience over with. At the time I guess I was just too…nice?...or too…something?…..to just get up and leave which is what I should have done….with said knife stuck in said jugular. But hey, hindsight is 20/20 right?

As we “enjoyed” our meal, with me doing my best at keeping the wine away from him by chugging it like a pirate on shore leave, it was clear that he was raised in some sort of sect where the use of utensils is frowned upon. He was obviously not very experienced in the handling of any of them. Soon the table around his plate was littered with more food that I would bet he managed to get into his foul mouth. Probably the longest meal I ever endured, but blessed be it was eventually over. He set his plate aside with a satisfying sigh, then proceeded to brush the table scraps into a small pile in front of him. He then placed one hand just underneath the table as the other brushed this pile onto it. I then expected him to put said pile on his plate but nooooooooooo. He brought said pile to his lips, tilted his head back and knocked ‘er all back into his open gaping mouth. I could only sit there and stare in disbelief, wondering how the hell I was going to describe this to anyone because there was just no way anyone outside of his sect was going to believe this!

It ended, thank god, it ended, leaving this yet one more reason for me to fold and walk away from the table in this, the dating game.