I have no other way to describe him, other than the title. I remember he had a rather
large nose and a nose that could have benefited from the aid of a trimmer. Okay, and maybe those ears too, if I'm being totally honest. He was short for a man, maybe 5’6 or 5’7. He
was stocky with a round belly, but otherwise reasonably attractive. Kind of like Samwise's less attractive brother in Lord of the Rings. He had pretty,
blue eyes and a nice smile. And, when he was drinking, he was fun. (I didn’t
realize that he would stop being fun when sober).
I wouldn’t say he was a conversationalist by any means. For
example, his favorite movie during the time I knew him was Hot Tub Time
Machine. Moreover, he watched it repeatedly, and Hangover. Shocking.
Our first date I would have to say was my fault. The whole thing,
really, was my fault. I, at the very least, shouldn’t have continued to see him after what transpired on the first date. I can’t remember who asked who out, so that could
easily be my fault as well. I used to be very forward back then, but I think it
stemmed from a combination of impatience and my perfume, "eau de desperation".
We had met online and I agreed to meet up for a happy hour date on a weekday. (At that time, I foolishly incorporated liquor into my dating,
which explains quite a bit). I don’t even remember where it was we met, but I
had been there before (not that long before meeting him at that place that has no name) with some
girlfriends. Probably why I thought of
the place to meet. Moving along...
I walked in and found him pretty easily at the bar, as he matched
his photo. I felt relieved instantly. It’s
not unfathomable to worry about what your date will look like, even if they did
supply photos. People lie and photo
shop, or dig for old photos. I smiled and nervously walked over to the bar
where he sat and impatiently waited for my drink order. It tamed my nerves, but
it also removed inhibitions and good judgment, but you take the good with the
bad, right? (Oh boy)
We laughed and played games at the bar. Before I knew it, it was
time for the evening to end and for us to say good night. I probably had more
cocktails than I should have, which was a good thing if I could have forseen
what was coming next. I'm the happy tipsy drinker, so nothing seems to phase me.
However, I found my nerves building again, wondering if he was going to ask me
out again or if he was going to try and get a hug or a kiss from me. I giggled
a lot as we sat there waiting for our tab to be delivered. As it was placed in
between us, he looked it over and set it back on the bar top as he reached for
his wallet.
Once again, I sighed in relief. My last few, recent, experience with dating; it was more going Dutch. Let's be honest, it was more me footing the bill. (I know, I'm an idiot, well was.) He then opened his wallet and flipped through some
bills with his thumb before looking up at me. He smirked sheepishly and said, “I’m
really sorry, but I think I’m going to be a little short for my half, is that
okay?”
There are no words…..except that this was not our last date. So,
who is the real buffoon here?
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