With my mouth still gaping wide in anticipation of chomping down on a tender morsel of food I stop dead in my tracks. I slowly put the lettuce wrap back down on the plate and just sit there. Boiling. Knowing that if I even think about opening my mouth again that a stream of obscenities are going to flow loudly enough to cause a scene in the restaurant and have everyone gawking at the two of us. I continue to sit there and stew until the waitress comes over and asks if everything is OK with the food. I tell her that I need a to-go box.
Bryce immediately senses the error of his ways but it’s too late. He apologizes, tells me not to worry about it and eat. I say nothing. He continues to plead. I continue to say nothing. He then realizes that being nice is not working in his favor so he decides that another approach would be best. He then says “I can’t believe I’m going to pay for that meal and you’re not even going to eat it” becomes irritated and stops talking to me as well. For a normal person this would be the time to call the waitress over, get another to-go box for his meal and wrap up this “special” evening. Not Bryce, noooooo. We continue to sit there in complete silence while he finishes his salad, fried apples, French fries and an ENTIRE SLAB OF RIBS. Guess he's not on the same "healthy eating" plan as he expects me to be on.
Finally he's finished eating and the ordeal is over, he pays the bill and we drive back to his house. Still not a word has been uttered between us. When we pull into the drive way he turns off the car and heads for his house, I calmly ask him for my keys. He actually looks over at me and says “You’re not going to stay?”
This is a joke right? I’m being punk’d. Where’s the cameras? I wait for a few seconds, look around, there sadly is no sign of Ashton Kutcher so I say to him “no, I’m not staying” I take my keys and drive away.
As far as I’m concerned, we’re done. I don’t call him. I don’t have any intention of ever speaking to him again. A few weeks roll by and I’m glad that he hasn’t called me either. Until, he does. I see the dreaded name on my phone and for some reason I debate whether or not to answer it. I don’t. He leaves me a voicemail. Not apologizing, from the lack of slurring it’s clearly not a drunk dial, just a simple message asking me to call him back. At this point I just assume that I must have left something at his house and he’s just wanting to make sure I get it back so I call. He picks up the phone and says to me “I can’t believe you’re still mad at me.” What? Clearly his memory isn’t as sharp as mine. He then asks me if I want to come over. I politely decline, to which he genuinely seems shocked by and asks "why not?". I’m sorry, did you actually think that after a date of that caliber of HORRIBLENESS that I would simply overlook not only that date but every single jackass thing that you had done leading up to that date? I tell him I’m done. I’m not interested in a relationship with him. I guess he’s insulted or maybe embarrassed by this because he hangs up on me and I am just happy that I no longer have to see his face.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Eat, Drink and Be Angry - Part 2
I snapped my neck and glared at him. He had to be kidding right? I mean I would have HAPPILY chowed down at the barbecue place with anyone else but I had been trying to compromise with his stupid standards! As I feel my blood starting to boil I tell him that I will be happy with anyplace he chooses. He decides to pick another restaurant on the complete other side of town. Great.
As we are driving I try to make pleasant conversation when he interrupts me to announce that he forgot his reading glasses, he then also announces he has to take a piss. Somehow both of these become my fault. I mention to him we are going to pass right by his neighborhood so why doesn’t he just pop into the house, use the restroom and grab his glasses. Oh noooo, that would be far too convenient, instead he asks me to look around the car for an empty cup for him to pee in. Are you fucking serious? Shockingly, I don’t happen to have a spare piss cup in my car for him to urinate in so we continue to drive ALL the way to the restaurant with him bitching and “adjusting” himself due to the apparent pressure on his bladder.
We get to the restaurant where he heads to the restroom and I make a beeline for the bar to grab something strong enough to get me through the rest of the evening while we wait for a table to open up. During the I am waiting for my drink, Bryce walks up and mentions to me that there is a high top available in the bar area with no wait. I begrudgingly agree. I say this because I am short, and wide. High chairs with narrow seats and I don’t mix but I agree before the level of agitation continues to rise, or so I think.
The waitress comes over, hands us our menus and gives us time to decide what to order. Bryce immediately starts to cuss under his breath and slams the menu down. For some reason, I ask what the matter is. “I can’t see a fucking thing in this dark ass restaurant with these tiny fucking letters on this menu, I’m just gonna have to order a fucking hamburger and that’s not what I really want…., blah, blah, blah” So I thought of a brilliant idea! When the waitress came over and asked us if we decided what we wanted to order, I said to her “do you happen to have a pair of reading glasses in lost and found, my date forgot his” This went over like a fucking lead balloon. Bryce was apparently quite insulted by this. I then explain to the waitress that he can't see shit on the menu and I wait patiently for the next 20 minutes while she basically describes every damn item on the menu to him.
He then orders an appetizer. At this point I don’t even remember what it was but what I do remember is that it was fried or fattening or both, so I take a nibble or two because I know if I eat more than a few morsels he’ll complain about me not eating healthy and if I don’t eat any at all he’ll bitch about that too. I start to think to myself, why am I doing this again?
Thankfully another drink arrives with dinner and I’m actually excited about my lettuce wraps with a spicy sriracha sauce. I pick one up to savor the deliciousness when Bryce snaps at me “What is that? That’s too many calories for you”
First of all, fuck you. Second of all I don’t care what it is, if I order something and the first word is “lettuce” there ain’t too many fucking calories in it, and last but not least, fuck you.
Shit just got real….
Check me out next week for the conclusion of Eat, Drink and Be Angry!
As we are driving I try to make pleasant conversation when he interrupts me to announce that he forgot his reading glasses, he then also announces he has to take a piss. Somehow both of these become my fault. I mention to him we are going to pass right by his neighborhood so why doesn’t he just pop into the house, use the restroom and grab his glasses. Oh noooo, that would be far too convenient, instead he asks me to look around the car for an empty cup for him to pee in. Are you fucking serious? Shockingly, I don’t happen to have a spare piss cup in my car for him to urinate in so we continue to drive ALL the way to the restaurant with him bitching and “adjusting” himself due to the apparent pressure on his bladder.
We get to the restaurant where he heads to the restroom and I make a beeline for the bar to grab something strong enough to get me through the rest of the evening while we wait for a table to open up. During the I am waiting for my drink, Bryce walks up and mentions to me that there is a high top available in the bar area with no wait. I begrudgingly agree. I say this because I am short, and wide. High chairs with narrow seats and I don’t mix but I agree before the level of agitation continues to rise, or so I think.
The waitress comes over, hands us our menus and gives us time to decide what to order. Bryce immediately starts to cuss under his breath and slams the menu down. For some reason, I ask what the matter is. “I can’t see a fucking thing in this dark ass restaurant with these tiny fucking letters on this menu, I’m just gonna have to order a fucking hamburger and that’s not what I really want…., blah, blah, blah” So I thought of a brilliant idea! When the waitress came over and asked us if we decided what we wanted to order, I said to her “do you happen to have a pair of reading glasses in lost and found, my date forgot his” This went over like a fucking lead balloon. Bryce was apparently quite insulted by this. I then explain to the waitress that he can't see shit on the menu and I wait patiently for the next 20 minutes while she basically describes every damn item on the menu to him.
He then orders an appetizer. At this point I don’t even remember what it was but what I do remember is that it was fried or fattening or both, so I take a nibble or two because I know if I eat more than a few morsels he’ll complain about me not eating healthy and if I don’t eat any at all he’ll bitch about that too. I start to think to myself, why am I doing this again?
Thankfully another drink arrives with dinner and I’m actually excited about my lettuce wraps with a spicy sriracha sauce. I pick one up to savor the deliciousness when Bryce snaps at me “What is that? That’s too many calories for you”
First of all, fuck you. Second of all I don’t care what it is, if I order something and the first word is “lettuce” there ain’t too many fucking calories in it, and last but not least, fuck you.
Shit just got real….
Check me out next week for the conclusion of Eat, Drink and Be Angry!
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Eat, Drink and be Angry - Part 1
I’m sorta a what you see is what you get girl. I’m a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) and have been for quite some time. Yes, I’m becoming more health conscience and making changes to my life but by no means am I going to wake up tomorrow and be thin unless I happen to run into a genie with a magic lamp. Someone should have mentioned this to “Bryce”.
Bryce and I had been dating off and on for awhile. Mostly when I was lonely, bored and tired of spending weekends alone. He was tolerable, got along with my friends and is employed. More than I can say for some of the others I’ve dated. We had been spending more and more time together and things were getting to the point of being serious. This concerned me because I knew if I stayed with him I was settling but I knew I could (and have) done worse for myself. I was stuck in a rut and not really sure what to do about it. Lucky for me that was about to change.
Bryce and I had decided to go to the beach for the weekend but, as a Florida resident you always know to check the weather before you go. It just so happened there was a tropical storm and I was not about to spend an entire weekend at the beach locked inside a house with Bryce so I cancelled and told him we would just get together on Friday and spend a nice quiet evening together. Which for me is actually a lot of work.
You see Bryce doesn’t like my hair curly or in a pony tail, so I need to flat iron it (even though it’s raining) and he doesn’t like when I don’t shower IMMEDIATELY before coming over even though I took a shower that morning, and he doesn’t like it when I don’t have on sexy panties, and…. the list goes on. Now I’m not normally the kind of gal that gives into a man’s every whim but for Bryce it’s less aggravating for me to just go with the flow than to hear him bitch. And so I conform…
I arrive at his house because he refuses to stay the night at my house and again it’s just easier for me to have an escape vehicle should the need arise, and trust me, it does. I get under the umbrella and run to his front door, careful not to let the rain ruin my perfectly straightened hair. I get to sit there while he finishes his cigarette and discuss where we are going for dinner. He suggests a local barbeque place which I love but I’d rather not go to knowing that whatever I order from there will elicit some smart fat remark. So I suggest we go over to a fairly close shopping area with tons of restaurants to choose from and off we go.
As we get closer I immediately know there’s going to be a problem. This place is popular under normal circumstances, throw in the rain and Friday night factors and this place is packed! I personally don’t have a problem with this. I’m the kind of person that will sit around, chat, grab a drink from the bar and patiently wait for a table. Bryce on the other hand does NOT like crowds OR waiting. So we circle. Drive thru the parking lot a few times; see if any of the restaurants have convenient parking and no lines waiting. Nothing. We then cross the street and repeat with the restaurants on that side, nothing. We then go back to where we first started and circle again. Still nothing. At this point Bryce looks at me and snaps “Why do can't you just compromise!”
This is not going to end well…..
Bryce and I had been dating off and on for awhile. Mostly when I was lonely, bored and tired of spending weekends alone. He was tolerable, got along with my friends and is employed. More than I can say for some of the others I’ve dated. We had been spending more and more time together and things were getting to the point of being serious. This concerned me because I knew if I stayed with him I was settling but I knew I could (and have) done worse for myself. I was stuck in a rut and not really sure what to do about it. Lucky for me that was about to change.
Bryce and I had decided to go to the beach for the weekend but, as a Florida resident you always know to check the weather before you go. It just so happened there was a tropical storm and I was not about to spend an entire weekend at the beach locked inside a house with Bryce so I cancelled and told him we would just get together on Friday and spend a nice quiet evening together. Which for me is actually a lot of work.
You see Bryce doesn’t like my hair curly or in a pony tail, so I need to flat iron it (even though it’s raining) and he doesn’t like when I don’t shower IMMEDIATELY before coming over even though I took a shower that morning, and he doesn’t like it when I don’t have on sexy panties, and…. the list goes on. Now I’m not normally the kind of gal that gives into a man’s every whim but for Bryce it’s less aggravating for me to just go with the flow than to hear him bitch. And so I conform…
I arrive at his house because he refuses to stay the night at my house and again it’s just easier for me to have an escape vehicle should the need arise, and trust me, it does. I get under the umbrella and run to his front door, careful not to let the rain ruin my perfectly straightened hair. I get to sit there while he finishes his cigarette and discuss where we are going for dinner. He suggests a local barbeque place which I love but I’d rather not go to knowing that whatever I order from there will elicit some smart fat remark. So I suggest we go over to a fairly close shopping area with tons of restaurants to choose from and off we go.
As we get closer I immediately know there’s going to be a problem. This place is popular under normal circumstances, throw in the rain and Friday night factors and this place is packed! I personally don’t have a problem with this. I’m the kind of person that will sit around, chat, grab a drink from the bar and patiently wait for a table. Bryce on the other hand does NOT like crowds OR waiting. So we circle. Drive thru the parking lot a few times; see if any of the restaurants have convenient parking and no lines waiting. Nothing. We then cross the street and repeat with the restaurants on that side, nothing. We then go back to where we first started and circle again. Still nothing. At this point Bryce looks at me and snaps “Why do can't you just compromise!”
This is not going to end well…..
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Sweet Revenge
I hate my birthday. I have for quite awhile now. I guess when you get old enough that people stop making you birthday cakes, planning parties for you and singing “Happy Birthday” it’s bound to happen, and well, my birthday 2012 certainly didn’t change my mind. In fact, it helped add to my theory that my birthday is cursed. Let me explain through what I can remember and what has been told to me about that day…
I decided that the best way to change the course of the birthday curse was to take a “me” day. Got a massage, hair cut, colored and straightened so I would look and feel like a million bucks. Made arrangements with my friend to go on a double date that evening to a movie that I was dying to see and out to a local hotspot afterwards for some drinks and dancing. What could possibly go wrong?
Well for starters after spending a good amount of time getting gussied up, it decides to drizzle. Rain and Florida humidity are Kryptonite to straight hair and now I’m just praying that by the end of the night I don’t look like the lost sixth member of the Jackson 5. Thankfully I duck into the movie with minimal rain contact. Got my popcorn, soda and settle in….. don’t ya know it the movie SUCKS! Two hours wasted but at least there’s the club to look forward to.
My date pays the cover, we go inside…. There’s like seven people there. OK, so it’s not the most happening spot but at least I’ll be able to have a drink. Do you have Crown? No. Do you have Bacardi Dark? No. Ok, then how about just a Bud Light? Nope. Come ON! What kind of bar doesn’t even have Bud Light? We decide to bail. We head to a local spot where they have a band and Bud Light available if I so choose. As I walk in I see this poster advertising Sweet Revenge. It’s pink and I think the name is just too perfect to turn down. I order a couple of shots for my friend and I, and another and then another. 3 shots on my birthday is not a bad way to go, besides, I’m a big girl, I can hold my liquor, I’m certainly not new to the drinking scene.
Well it doesn’t take very long before the room starts spinning. At this point apparently I’ve pissed off my date and he’s left and I decide to go after him. My very sweet DD loads me into the car where apparently I make a phone call professing my undying love for my date and decide to make things right. I somehow get loaded into my date’s truck, get to his house where he gentlemanly opens the door for me to get out only to watch hit the pavement.
That’s enough. The Sweet Revenge lives true to its word and I begin to puke, everywhere, only to be yelled at by my date that I’m getting it all over his driveway and that I need to “move it to the grass.” The last thing I remember is crawling on my hands and knees to a bush as to not soil his precious driveway. (Believe it or not this won’t be the last you hear about this guy.)
The next morning, as I wake up feeling like my head is being beaten in by a two by four I desperately search for my purse and phone. My purse is luckily on the night stand next to me but my phone, that’s another thing. After searching for quite some time and even heading back to my friend’s house I discover that my phone is gone. SHIT! My whole life is in that phone! I decide to take just one last look. Sure enough, I find the phone. Under the bush, covered in puke… Thank GOD for my Otter Box. I peel my protective cover off and head home glad another birthday is over and done with, or so I think.
Except…. a few weeks later I get a pretty envelope in the mail. Red. Apparently somewhere in my adventures for the day I ran a red light and here is the picture and $178 ticket to prove it. I promise you for my 2013 birthday, I’m not even leaving the fucking house….
I decided that the best way to change the course of the birthday curse was to take a “me” day. Got a massage, hair cut, colored and straightened so I would look and feel like a million bucks. Made arrangements with my friend to go on a double date that evening to a movie that I was dying to see and out to a local hotspot afterwards for some drinks and dancing. What could possibly go wrong?
Well for starters after spending a good amount of time getting gussied up, it decides to drizzle. Rain and Florida humidity are Kryptonite to straight hair and now I’m just praying that by the end of the night I don’t look like the lost sixth member of the Jackson 5. Thankfully I duck into the movie with minimal rain contact. Got my popcorn, soda and settle in….. don’t ya know it the movie SUCKS! Two hours wasted but at least there’s the club to look forward to.
My date pays the cover, we go inside…. There’s like seven people there. OK, so it’s not the most happening spot but at least I’ll be able to have a drink. Do you have Crown? No. Do you have Bacardi Dark? No. Ok, then how about just a Bud Light? Nope. Come ON! What kind of bar doesn’t even have Bud Light? We decide to bail. We head to a local spot where they have a band and Bud Light available if I so choose. As I walk in I see this poster advertising Sweet Revenge. It’s pink and I think the name is just too perfect to turn down. I order a couple of shots for my friend and I, and another and then another. 3 shots on my birthday is not a bad way to go, besides, I’m a big girl, I can hold my liquor, I’m certainly not new to the drinking scene.
Well it doesn’t take very long before the room starts spinning. At this point apparently I’ve pissed off my date and he’s left and I decide to go after him. My very sweet DD loads me into the car where apparently I make a phone call professing my undying love for my date and decide to make things right. I somehow get loaded into my date’s truck, get to his house where he gentlemanly opens the door for me to get out only to watch hit the pavement.
That’s enough. The Sweet Revenge lives true to its word and I begin to puke, everywhere, only to be yelled at by my date that I’m getting it all over his driveway and that I need to “move it to the grass.” The last thing I remember is crawling on my hands and knees to a bush as to not soil his precious driveway. (Believe it or not this won’t be the last you hear about this guy.)
The next morning, as I wake up feeling like my head is being beaten in by a two by four I desperately search for my purse and phone. My purse is luckily on the night stand next to me but my phone, that’s another thing. After searching for quite some time and even heading back to my friend’s house I discover that my phone is gone. SHIT! My whole life is in that phone! I decide to take just one last look. Sure enough, I find the phone. Under the bush, covered in puke… Thank GOD for my Otter Box. I peel my protective cover off and head home glad another birthday is over and done with, or so I think.
Except…. a few weeks later I get a pretty envelope in the mail. Red. Apparently somewhere in my adventures for the day I ran a red light and here is the picture and $178 ticket to prove it. I promise you for my 2013 birthday, I’m not even leaving the fucking house….
Thursday, July 12, 2012
The SOOO Not OK Corral
There are some unwritten rules for first dates that are usually a good idea to follow. The man should generally at least offer to pay, the woman shouldn’t give it up the goods and alcohol, in my opinion, should almost always be involved.
I get an email from the sole website that I am still on telling me I’ve got mail. It’s Sunday and for the moment I don’t have a whole lot going on so I check it out. I get a message from “Matt”. He’s local and I decide to at least respond to his email and see what happens, even though his picture on the site is not particularly flattering, but I’m trying not to be shallow. After all I don’t want a man to not give me a shot just because I’m not thin.
We email back and forth a few times. He uses proper spelling and grammar which is always a pleasure and he actually asks for my phone number and if he can text me which is so rare so I decide to go for it. We get to texting, asking each other the typical “get to know you questions” what he does for a living, hobbies, pets, kids, etc….. and then his living situation comes up. He lives with his dad. I know the economy is bad, I know times are tough and people do what they have to do, and I get it. Still it’s somewhat disappointing that at 43 he still lives with mom and dad but it’s not entirely a deal breaker.
A few texts later he starts to ask about my kids, which for me is always scary. As a single parent I know I’m a package deal and yes, I understand the need for a man to know what he’s getting himself into but worry about that shit when you know you’re going to stick around for Pete’s sake. I give him very basic, non-descript information. Then he asks for their picture. WTF? You haven’t even asked for my picture yet. The creeper flag is now a flyin! I try not to jump to any conclusions but now for sure I am weirded out. I guess this gets him thinking and now he asks for my picture. No prob, I’ve got my facebook pic on my phone for just such an occasion. I then of course have to ask for his and WHOA. Really fucking hideous. I mean if I thought his picture on the website was mediocre this one is scary beyond words! I decide to end the conversation for the evening and pray I don’t have nightmares.
The next day he sends me a text at lunch telling me he’s thinking about me and hopes I have a great day and is looking forward to talking to me later. I, of course, think that’s very sweet and my black heart lightens just a little.
He texts me that evening and asks me if I would go to dinner with him. I figure one date won’t kill me. I'll at least give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean after all it is free food and drinks. Then he asks if I like Golden Corral. For those of you not familiar with this establishment, it’s a buffet style restaurant. As a large woman and someone at least mildly concerned with the sanitary conditions of my food I personally try to avoid them. I just have these visions of some snot nosed kid running around touching everything, especially the chocolate fountain. Gross. Besides, if I agree to Golden Corral on a first date where does it go when he gets comfortable? Bowling alley food? Midnight fast food run? Perhaps a steaming cup of Ramen Noodles?
And so that my friends, is the end of this little adventure, he just doesn’t know it yet. I wrestle with myself the next day on whether or not I should try to break it to him gently or take the “I don’t owe him a damn thing attitude”. I, always one to be the bigger person, at least to their face, tell him that I’m really overwhelmed with school, and work and kids, and I just decided that this really isn’t the right time for me to be dating. Which I never really know if that’s the right thing to do. I mean, maybe he’s a fragile soul and needs a woman to lie to him as to not hurt his feelings but then again maybe he’s the type that would benefit from someone actually stopping and telling him the truth. Either way ain’t my problem. Let the next bitch worry about that shit. I’m out!
I get an email from the sole website that I am still on telling me I’ve got mail. It’s Sunday and for the moment I don’t have a whole lot going on so I check it out. I get a message from “Matt”. He’s local and I decide to at least respond to his email and see what happens, even though his picture on the site is not particularly flattering, but I’m trying not to be shallow. After all I don’t want a man to not give me a shot just because I’m not thin.
We email back and forth a few times. He uses proper spelling and grammar which is always a pleasure and he actually asks for my phone number and if he can text me which is so rare so I decide to go for it. We get to texting, asking each other the typical “get to know you questions” what he does for a living, hobbies, pets, kids, etc….. and then his living situation comes up. He lives with his dad. I know the economy is bad, I know times are tough and people do what they have to do, and I get it. Still it’s somewhat disappointing that at 43 he still lives with mom and dad but it’s not entirely a deal breaker.
A few texts later he starts to ask about my kids, which for me is always scary. As a single parent I know I’m a package deal and yes, I understand the need for a man to know what he’s getting himself into but worry about that shit when you know you’re going to stick around for Pete’s sake. I give him very basic, non-descript information. Then he asks for their picture. WTF? You haven’t even asked for my picture yet. The creeper flag is now a flyin! I try not to jump to any conclusions but now for sure I am weirded out. I guess this gets him thinking and now he asks for my picture. No prob, I’ve got my facebook pic on my phone for just such an occasion. I then of course have to ask for his and WHOA. Really fucking hideous. I mean if I thought his picture on the website was mediocre this one is scary beyond words! I decide to end the conversation for the evening and pray I don’t have nightmares.
The next day he sends me a text at lunch telling me he’s thinking about me and hopes I have a great day and is looking forward to talking to me later. I, of course, think that’s very sweet and my black heart lightens just a little.
He texts me that evening and asks me if I would go to dinner with him. I figure one date won’t kill me. I'll at least give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean after all it is free food and drinks. Then he asks if I like Golden Corral. For those of you not familiar with this establishment, it’s a buffet style restaurant. As a large woman and someone at least mildly concerned with the sanitary conditions of my food I personally try to avoid them. I just have these visions of some snot nosed kid running around touching everything, especially the chocolate fountain. Gross. Besides, if I agree to Golden Corral on a first date where does it go when he gets comfortable? Bowling alley food? Midnight fast food run? Perhaps a steaming cup of Ramen Noodles?
And so that my friends, is the end of this little adventure, he just doesn’t know it yet. I wrestle with myself the next day on whether or not I should try to break it to him gently or take the “I don’t owe him a damn thing attitude”. I, always one to be the bigger person, at least to their face, tell him that I’m really overwhelmed with school, and work and kids, and I just decided that this really isn’t the right time for me to be dating. Which I never really know if that’s the right thing to do. I mean, maybe he’s a fragile soul and needs a woman to lie to him as to not hurt his feelings but then again maybe he’s the type that would benefit from someone actually stopping and telling him the truth. Either way ain’t my problem. Let the next bitch worry about that shit. I’m out!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
A Few Colonel's Short of a Bag of Popcorn
We all know “that guy”. Sure it might be a different “that guy” for all of us. For one of you it might be someone who’s phone call you dread, for another you duck and run from him at a party, maybe he’s the creepy guy who leers at you every time you see him or the guy that when he talks he stands a little too close for comfort. You know… “that guy”. For me it’s a friend of a friend, an acquaintance that’s grown into a strange friendship. One I’ve learned to love and even tolerate.
“Colonel Dan” is an interesting character to say the least, but for this story what you need to know is that he’s not too savvy when it comes to the world of computers. He’s got a few items he wants to sell on Craig’s List and doesn’t have a clue how to do that. That’s where I come in. I volunteer my services knowing it will take mere minutes and don’t give it a second thought. Colonel Dan tells me that when the items sell, he will take me to dinner for my troubles. I just nod and uh-huh him, never intending to hold him to this. After all what I’m doing is not really all that hard.
Well to my chagrin he holds me to it. Pushy about it even. After several times of me cancelling and rescheduling I finally cave and agree to meet for dinner. Friday night, 6:30. At 6:45 I get a phone call from him asking for the directions. I tell him he’s right around the corner and give him what he need to get the rest of the way there. At 7 he shows up at the restaurant cussing, telling me he missed the entrance, TWICE and how the parking lot is too small for his truck. This has certainly started well. He then he asks me why I’m not at the bar. I tell him I’m waiting for him. Colonel Dan then tells me he wouldn’t have waited for me and heads in that direction. As soon as he gets there he asks me where the restroom is and tells me to order him a beer and a shot.
We eventually get to our table and the waitress comes over to take our order. He gets stuck on salad. He wants “you know, that dressing, not French” After a long list of flavors apparently he wanted Ranch. It is at this point I realize that he’s thrown back a few prior to his arrival and I know the evening is only going to get more interesting.
I continue with dinner by trying to make conversation and I ask him if he’s doing anything exciting this weekend. “Yeah, I’m going to Georgia” Awesome I say, for what? “Piece of ass” I should have known better. I guess this sparks the charm and wit center in his brain because he then proceeds to tell me that if I lose 100 pounds” things might start hap-nin” and if I lose 200 he’ll marry me. Wow, how can I resist? I let him know that the last person who said that to me was my EX- boyfriend and I told him to go fuck himself. He just laughs it off and continues talking and attempting to chew with his mouth open, all the while food is falling onto his shirt. Awesome.
After the minutes seem to drag on, the dinner finally ends. He decides to use the restroom before he leaves where he passes by the waitress squatting down at another table taking their order. At this point he feels it appropriate to pat her on the head. She looks horrified. Thankfully he moves on quickly.
When we get to the door to leave I thank him for a “lovely evening” and try to make a dash for it. He is conveniently parked next to me, so we leave together. I have never been so glad to see my piece of crap car. I attempt to half hug him when he grabs me for a big bear hug where I find myself up close and personal with the morsels that fell from his mouth onto his shirt at dinner. I manage to un-wedge myself from his grip and go on my merry way. Finally.
I wouldn’t say it’s the most horrible dinner I’ve ever been to but it’s certainly not one I ever plan on repeating. I think in the future I’ll make sure that our mutual friends are around to serve as a buffer for me and the useless nut we affectionately call Colonel Dan.
“Colonel Dan” is an interesting character to say the least, but for this story what you need to know is that he’s not too savvy when it comes to the world of computers. He’s got a few items he wants to sell on Craig’s List and doesn’t have a clue how to do that. That’s where I come in. I volunteer my services knowing it will take mere minutes and don’t give it a second thought. Colonel Dan tells me that when the items sell, he will take me to dinner for my troubles. I just nod and uh-huh him, never intending to hold him to this. After all what I’m doing is not really all that hard.
Well to my chagrin he holds me to it. Pushy about it even. After several times of me cancelling and rescheduling I finally cave and agree to meet for dinner. Friday night, 6:30. At 6:45 I get a phone call from him asking for the directions. I tell him he’s right around the corner and give him what he need to get the rest of the way there. At 7 he shows up at the restaurant cussing, telling me he missed the entrance, TWICE and how the parking lot is too small for his truck. This has certainly started well. He then he asks me why I’m not at the bar. I tell him I’m waiting for him. Colonel Dan then tells me he wouldn’t have waited for me and heads in that direction. As soon as he gets there he asks me where the restroom is and tells me to order him a beer and a shot.
We eventually get to our table and the waitress comes over to take our order. He gets stuck on salad. He wants “you know, that dressing, not French” After a long list of flavors apparently he wanted Ranch. It is at this point I realize that he’s thrown back a few prior to his arrival and I know the evening is only going to get more interesting.
I continue with dinner by trying to make conversation and I ask him if he’s doing anything exciting this weekend. “Yeah, I’m going to Georgia” Awesome I say, for what? “Piece of ass” I should have known better. I guess this sparks the charm and wit center in his brain because he then proceeds to tell me that if I lose 100 pounds” things might start hap-nin” and if I lose 200 he’ll marry me. Wow, how can I resist? I let him know that the last person who said that to me was my EX- boyfriend and I told him to go fuck himself. He just laughs it off and continues talking and attempting to chew with his mouth open, all the while food is falling onto his shirt. Awesome.
After the minutes seem to drag on, the dinner finally ends. He decides to use the restroom before he leaves where he passes by the waitress squatting down at another table taking their order. At this point he feels it appropriate to pat her on the head. She looks horrified. Thankfully he moves on quickly.
When we get to the door to leave I thank him for a “lovely evening” and try to make a dash for it. He is conveniently parked next to me, so we leave together. I have never been so glad to see my piece of crap car. I attempt to half hug him when he grabs me for a big bear hug where I find myself up close and personal with the morsels that fell from his mouth onto his shirt at dinner. I manage to un-wedge myself from his grip and go on my merry way. Finally.
I wouldn’t say it’s the most horrible dinner I’ve ever been to but it’s certainly not one I ever plan on repeating. I think in the future I’ll make sure that our mutual friends are around to serve as a buffer for me and the useless nut we affectionately call Colonel Dan.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Friends and Low Places
Every once in a while, with the TV on in the background I hear the iconic theme song to “Cheers” and it brings a smile to my face. Not because it reminds me about the show necessarily but it makes me think of the bond that I have with my friends. There is just something comforting about a group of close friends that know everything about you and still like you anyway.
That being said, I’m fortunate enough to have a small group of friends that love me just for being me. I consider their homes my home away from home and know that I’m welcome at all times. So when one of my friends tells me that there is going to be a party at their house. I know not only am I going to go but I am going to have a damn good time.
This particular party was New Year’s Eve. I don’t generally consider myself to be a particularly superstitious person but I do feel like that what you are doing on New Year’s Eve/Day can sort of set the tone for the rest of the year so I make sure I’m always surrounded by friends and/or family on those days. And of course since it’s one of the days the whole world celebrates the surrounding cast of characters did not fail to make an appearance.
One of them being my ex boyfriend “Bryce”. No biggie, we’re on speaking terms. As a matter of fact he’s been crying to a mutual friend of ours about how he really wants to get back together, and he knows that the breakup was all his fault and he’s so lonely without me, blah, blah, blah…
He sits down next to me and strikes up a conversation. I’m pleasant, after all I’m drinking. (Hey! It’s New Years Eve!) He then starts in on me that I never call him. To which I remind him he’s told me that he doesn’t like to talk on the phone so why would I call him, and besides you don’t call me either. This leads into him telling me that’s probably because he’s not really ready for a relationship.
This sends me into a TIZZY! Not because I’m irritated that he doesn’t want to get back together. Really I don’t care either way. What pisses me off is that this wishy washy son of a bitch is going to ear fuck my friend about the history of our relationship and where it went wrong and then pulls THIS crap. Besides your 49 fucking years old! If you’re not ready for a relationship now what the HELL are you waiting for?
I immediately head into the house and have a shot. And then another. And maybe even one more and quickly forget about the whole situation. At some point Bryce leaves and his stupidity is brought up in a conversation by someone who is still at the party. This causes my aggravation to once again rear its ugly head and I declare to everyone that I’m going to go punch him in the balls.
That’s when the night goes black……
I wake up the next morning with a roaring hangover, horrible cottonmouth and praying for death to find me quickly. I roll over in bed and immediately hit my head on something. What the fuck? As I open my eyes to see what I just hit my pounding head on I see Bryce with a stupid grin on his face. I’m guessing by the smile I didn’t hit him in the balls. At least not with my fist.
I quickly put on my shoes and head for the door. He jumps up and follows me and starts saying something about coffee. I tell him that I have to go check on my dog and get the hell out of there.
Later that day my phone rings off the hook, my friends calling to ask me what happened once I left the party. I tell them quite honestly I have no earthy idea. They’ll have to get the rest of THAT story from Bryce himself.
That being said, I’m fortunate enough to have a small group of friends that love me just for being me. I consider their homes my home away from home and know that I’m welcome at all times. So when one of my friends tells me that there is going to be a party at their house. I know not only am I going to go but I am going to have a damn good time.
This particular party was New Year’s Eve. I don’t generally consider myself to be a particularly superstitious person but I do feel like that what you are doing on New Year’s Eve/Day can sort of set the tone for the rest of the year so I make sure I’m always surrounded by friends and/or family on those days. And of course since it’s one of the days the whole world celebrates the surrounding cast of characters did not fail to make an appearance.
One of them being my ex boyfriend “Bryce”. No biggie, we’re on speaking terms. As a matter of fact he’s been crying to a mutual friend of ours about how he really wants to get back together, and he knows that the breakup was all his fault and he’s so lonely without me, blah, blah, blah…
He sits down next to me and strikes up a conversation. I’m pleasant, after all I’m drinking. (Hey! It’s New Years Eve!) He then starts in on me that I never call him. To which I remind him he’s told me that he doesn’t like to talk on the phone so why would I call him, and besides you don’t call me either. This leads into him telling me that’s probably because he’s not really ready for a relationship.
This sends me into a TIZZY! Not because I’m irritated that he doesn’t want to get back together. Really I don’t care either way. What pisses me off is that this wishy washy son of a bitch is going to ear fuck my friend about the history of our relationship and where it went wrong and then pulls THIS crap. Besides your 49 fucking years old! If you’re not ready for a relationship now what the HELL are you waiting for?
I immediately head into the house and have a shot. And then another. And maybe even one more and quickly forget about the whole situation. At some point Bryce leaves and his stupidity is brought up in a conversation by someone who is still at the party. This causes my aggravation to once again rear its ugly head and I declare to everyone that I’m going to go punch him in the balls.
That’s when the night goes black……
I wake up the next morning with a roaring hangover, horrible cottonmouth and praying for death to find me quickly. I roll over in bed and immediately hit my head on something. What the fuck? As I open my eyes to see what I just hit my pounding head on I see Bryce with a stupid grin on his face. I’m guessing by the smile I didn’t hit him in the balls. At least not with my fist.
I quickly put on my shoes and head for the door. He jumps up and follows me and starts saying something about coffee. I tell him that I have to go check on my dog and get the hell out of there.
Later that day my phone rings off the hook, my friends calling to ask me what happened once I left the party. I tell them quite honestly I have no earthy idea. They’ll have to get the rest of THAT story from Bryce himself.
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