As I thought about what to write for today’s blog I realized that last weeks kinda sucked. I do not think that it was my best work and have decided that I am not going to share more Joseph stories right now. Down the road there will be more appropriate times to hear of him getting in fist fights at Red Rocks and about his mom giving me so many weed brownies that I could not remember my own name, but that is all for another day.
The truth is, I think finding someone worth dating is the stupidest and most exhausting thing in the whole world. When I found Joseph, it was easy and it worked, but since we broke up two years ago, I moved back to Denver and now finding a needle in a hay stack seems like a much easier task then finding someone to sit thru a dinner, or even a happy hour, with.
Now, I know as I write this I sound jaded, and sure, I am, however I have learned to keep that to myself. The last guy I told that to ghosted me after a romp between the sheets. However, as I write this, I am for once not jaded. I have managed to find someone with the same fucked up humor as me and things have been going great, but that’s not what this story is about today!
Today I will share a tale with you — a tale that still makes me cringe talking about it (but that’s the point of this blog, to share the silly with you all!). Here goes: Recently with all of my online dating nonsense, I received a simple message on the nightmare that is POF and it said, “Happy hour?”
Well damn, it wasn’t the strongest opener but it beat all the lame ones, and if anyone knows me, they now I cannot turn down happy hour. Ever. I think this is how I will start my opening statement when I finally join AA. Since that has not happened yet, though, he and I picked a day for happy hour. It wound up being after a long day of work and a stupid court case I had to go to, with my douche ex. Clearly I needed a drink! So we make plans to meet at a mainstream chain restaurant conveniently located on the way to the tanning place I go to on my way home.
As I am sitting at the bar, drinking my Titos with two limes and soda like its my job, the middle aged couple next to me are fighting. Like legit fighting. The nosy neighbor in me is almost staring at them watching. Apparently the wife DID NOT like when her husband took her sausage off her plate. I respect that because bitches love sausage. I know I do. Then she looks at him with the fury of Satan in her eyes and says, “I have no idea where your hands have been, keep them off my plate!” to which he very kindly responds, “You are fucking nuts!”
This is amazing. So amazing I almost forget I am still sitting at the bar. Alone. Drinking. That will be the second part to my opening speech I will one day use at AA.
Finally my date arrives. I wish this is where I could comment on his dapper style but he had gym pants on, a hoodie, tennis shoes and white tube shots. There was no lady boner happening on my end. As I entertain him and our waiter with the drama from next door (at this point Mr. and Mrs. Dirty Hands had left), Jay begins to share with me that he owns a Bail Bond company–which explains why the Hulk looks like his younger, small brother. He tells me that if he gets a work call, he will not leave our date for anything less than $8K. Apparently there is a price on being in my company, and sadly I would’ve thought it was higher than that. Lucky me, as he tries to smooth things over, he tells me that I could join him if he has to bail someone out of jail. “Ummm…no thanks I say!” He tells me, “No, it will be fun! You can be my Beth!”
I am sorry, did this first date is sweatpants just turn into a spinoff of Dog the Bounty Hunter?? And there is not even a mullet in this version?!
He doesn’t get any calls, which in retrospect was probably for the best, as I was not about to go spend this date in jail–there are too many opportunities for that story to lead somewhere even stranger!
So we sit there, and there is laughter, but I think his double shot’s of Jame-o on the rocks with a side of Budweiser are what’s helping the situation.
He then share some fascinating things with me. 1) he has two little girls (one happens to be a straight up ginger. Enough said.) 2) he could have got full custody but does not want them all the time cause he likes to go out and drink and also ride his Harley. He also mentions how he is so jazzed I am now ‘his girl’. Bitch please, this is our first date. Then, as he smiles, I see he is missing a front tooth.
God help me.
Next he spends a considerable amount of time trying to get me to go to a bar across town with him where they normally have Latin Hip Hop Night. For those of you who do not know, I am white–like, everything about me is very white. I grew up in the Denver suburbs where everyone is white and if you get a tan you are the minority. I also listen to Classic Rock and Country. I am not even sure what hip hop is! So, I respectfully decline, which leads me into a trap–he says, “Ok, if you are not going to go, we will just stay here and drink more!”
When the server comes back I say, “OK! Let’s get the tab and go!” Now, I do not always condone trickery, however when someone is not getting the hint then I think it is allowed.
As he walks me to my car, he ignores the side hug I try to give and grabs my head to barrel his tongue down my throat. I pull away to break the news that I have to go home, but we will see each other soon. He pouts. This grown ass man, in his jumpsuit and all, pouting.
I finally escape and am driving when something almost causes me to puke in my new car. This happens about .3 seconds after I pull out of the restaurant parking lot, which is when the texts start — he is very mushy and makes it sound as if we will run away together. The comment he makes about creating babies with me did not help the situation.
The texts slow down as the night goes on. It is amazing how that happens when you stop responding because you ‘fall asleep’.
The next morning I wake up to a text from him that says, “Good morning! How is my beautiful, sexy wonderful girl!?” then after 40 minutes of not responding, cause I fell back asleep (I know, lame of me) I get another one, “Hey baby, you still sleeping?! How did my girl sleep!”
I am on the phone with my sister, telling her all of this and she is laughing, telling me how thankful she is for the 11+ years of being happily marriage and that she is less than envious of me. I tell her of Jay’s dream to become bounty hunters and for me to pop out many red headed (I am assuming, here) kids, and also that when someone does not give off the same vibes as you, you do not wake them up with stupid texts in which you claim them as your own.
Later in the day I get a text saying, “Hey there babe! You have been quiet, how are you!?” and after 3, yes that’s right THREE minutes, another one that says, “Hey! Are you there! Did I scare you off?!”
How do you respond to that? Glad you asked. It is something like this, “I am not sure that scared is the right word however this is just a lot from one date.” He said he thought we both wanted a relationship, to which I respond, “Yeah I want a relationship but I am not going to force it. If it happens is happens but I think we are on different pages.”
Cue the string of angry texts. And also advice, that is not how you talk a girl into giving this a try! We did not go out again, in fact I blocked his number and now I live day by day by the books, cause if I don’t I am worried I will get arrested doing something stupid (likely) and have to call him to bail me out.
However if you want to be a pal and be my first call instead of Jay, you just let me know!
With love, J!