About a month and a half ago, I started corresponding with a guy from match whom, for practical purposes, we’ll refer to as PV. Sorry I can’t get much more creative than that, but after 188 first dates, you start to run out of funny monikers.
Now, the reason it took us a month and a half to finally rendezvous is because PV has been traveling for work. He has one of those jobs that takes him all over the world, which is cool because business travel = lots of free “me” time + potential free vacations. But all shallowness aside, our phone conversations went well, he seemed funny enough, seems to have a cool job that he likes, he has an artistic side (he paints), and hell, he lives within walking distance.
So I met him out.
It was a Saturday night date – we met for drinks on one of the various patios near the park. And everything was actually going quite well. There was no verbal diarrhea, yet there were also no awkward pauses. And after about 2 hours or so, he asked me if I’d be interested in meeting up with his friends in the Highlands at another bar. Sounded like a good idea at the time.
We went back to PV’s place to drop off his car and pick up a cab (so he’s responsible, which is good). His place was clean, contemporary, and has a killer view of the park. Oh, and it had pillars. I’ve always had a mad fascination with pillars – not sure why.
BTW, I didn’t check out the bedroom – it wasn’t THAT kind of date.
So, we eventually met up with the friends, whom upon first impression seemed really cool. And after about an hour or two, the scene at the bar died down and we moved to the bar next door. And that’s when the “fun” began…
Incident #1: Drunk guy shoves Nibsie into a chair
So, at some point one of the exceptionally hammered friends shoved another one with such force that he lost his balance and pretty much fell on me. I can handle a little horse play, don’t get me wrong, but the bruise on my leg is pretty long and relatively deep – it was no light push. And it’s no fun coming back from your dates black and blue.
Incident #2: Drunk girl tells Nibsie “Fuck You.”
So, as the night progressed, one of the girl friends who’d actually seemed pretty cool had drunken herself into oblivion and needed to go home. Honestly, I was worried about this girl, and offered to head out with her. She actually lives in the building next door, and it was getting late. But instead of taking me up on the offer, she turned to me and said, “Fuck you.” I was astonished. This comment came out of right field – it was bizarre. There was NOTHING I said that should have returned such a brazen reply. PV was diplomatic at first, but when Fuck You Girl replied with a smug smile and additional nasty commentary, he ended up telling her that she was being a bitch.
Incident #3: Drunkboy falls on table
So, PV decided it was best to migrate away from the friends and over to an empty table. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I don’t think he was anticipating that one of his pals would shove another with such force that he’d end up falling on our table and shoving it into me. And all I remember doing is throwing my hands up in the air and saying, “That’s it. I’m done.” And we left.
Now, normally I’d have enjoyed the train wreck drama, but there was something about this that reminded me of Andie’s first date with Blaine in Pretty in Pink. You know the scene – they arrive at the house party, and she’s just different than everyone else, they’re all hammered and acting like drunken fools, the blonde woman isn’t nice to her, and she pretty much just wants to leave. And Blaine whisks her away and is all apologies. Yep. I was living it.
All the way home in the cab, I just kept repeating myself:
Shaking head back and forth.
“Wow. That was a first for me. Wow. I’ve never been cussed at before on a date. Wow. Wow. I think I just need to process this. Wow.”
Slightly hysterical laughing.
And PV just kept apologizing, but the message just wasn’t getting through. Because it was all just so, well, wow.
And then he said something like, “So, would you even consider a second date?”
And I just replied, “WOW.”
Paris Hilton has “hot,” and I just have “wow.”
Sad but true, sooo many of my dates have an aftermath. As does this one. I awoke the next morning to sight of multiple bruises on my legs, including the deep, dark purple line on my thigh. It’s hot, trust me. Had I known this was going to be a contact event, I’d have stopped by the Sportmart for appropriate padding.
And sometime around 6 or so, I got “the phone call.” The one that says something like, “Things were going really well up until we met up with the friends, and I’d hope that you’d consider giving this another chance…”