EENIE MEANIE WIENIE MENS!

:: laboured sigh ::

...yet another installment in lies of my life. LOL! It's mating season again.

So, I was being heavily pursued by yet another middle aged, average White guy. Yep, you guessed it. We met online. :: shrug ::

Saturday evening, I hopped online for a bit to chat with friends and up pops this IM from Brad.
Brad and I have been IMing back and forth for some weeks and, FINALLY, were able to clear some time to meet in real life. On paper, Brad seemed like a nice enough guy, I GUESS! I mean he wasn't physically my type, but he seemed to have a pretty funny disposition, so I said, what the heck. All I'm going to do tonight is sit on my sofa, knit and watch Dexter, so I might as well get out for a while and see what's what around the old neighborhood.

Anywho, we chat and make arrangements to meet in my 'hood 45 minutes later for dinner at a local restaurant. We both had to get ready and he had about a 20 minute drive from the suburbs, so I knew he'd be a few minutes late...which meant I'd get there before him or even on time.

[ fast forward 50 minutes and I'm ready, waiting and knitting at the restaurant's bar ]

[ Brad arrives shortly after I did ]
[ internal grimace ]
[ thinks to myself, "DAMN! He looks EXACTLY like his picture. He told me he has lost 30 lbs since he took that picture and he had a few more sprigs of hair, too. I hate it when they lie. Why bother? :: shrug ::" ]

Me: HEY! You made it.
Brad: Yeah.
Me: OK! Let's grab a table.
Brad: OK.

[ hostess seats us at a table ]
Me: [ looks across table and notices that he has some type of canker sore/blister on his lower lip ] [ dry heave ] [ wonder why he just doesn't shave his whole freakin' head instead of hanging on to those 5 hairs that he gets cut every week? ]

Brad is 41, never married, no kids, non-smoker, one cat. He's about 5'9", portly, blonde and balding badly. He's lived in KC for about 2 years and moved here to be a high school/college hockey and baseball referee. Brad dresses very conservatively, dare I say, vintage miserly. Uh yeah, he had on one of those Members Only type jackets, a JCPenney polo and khaki pants. Not bad, but I wonder what he REALLY looks like....I mean that was his first date attire. :: eyeroll ::

[ more dinner conversation ensues...blah blah blah ]

I don't have anything really interesting to type for dialogue since he was utterly boring and mundane. I mean we talked about places we'd traveled, jobs, college, generic crap, but nothing really drew me in...

[ fast forward again. Dinner is over. We go dutch on the bill, I insisted. ]

So, dinner is over and I'm not quite ready to go home, so I mention I'm going down the street to a pub and ask if he wanted to go along. :: NOW WAIT! I KNOW! I KNOW! but, :: shrug :: I was being nice and thought I'd give him a chance to redeem himself , plus I'd already made up my mind that there is NOT WAY I was inviting this guy over to my house. NUH UH!

We agree to meet up down the street at the bar, he had to go back to his car to put his leftovers away and I had to put my knitting away in my car and I didn't want him to see my car anyway.

I didn't see Brad right away at the bar, so I made my way over to a bartender and bought myself a nice STRONG martini. I needed it. I was really hoping that our paths wouldn't cross again and he'd give up and leave, but no...he found me downstairs hanging out by myself. DAMMIT!

So, I'm standing up leaning against a bar table, enjoying my martini buzz as I stared deeply at my martini glass as I slowly turned it clockwise. It was still early and there weren't that many people downstairs or on the dance floor yet. I was enjoying the people watching anyway and the solace. Soon though, I caught a glimpse of Brad bounding down the stairs towards me. CRAP! He sidled up next to me and began yammering about how he tried to call me and text me and that he had been waiting upstairs for me the whole time. GREAT! :: internal grumble :: I explained to him that I left my phone in the car along with my knitting. He had a bottle of beer with him...O'Douls. I remembered seeing one of those a long time ago. I thought to myself, "Isn't that a non-alcoholic beer?" and I remembered that he only had water with his dinner. So, I reach over and take a closer look at the bottle. Yep, O'Douls. Brad picks up his bottle takes another swig and proceeds to remove the front label, ball it up and fling it at me playfully. I was not happy.

Me: So, you're in recovery, huh?
Brad: Yeah, been sober 12 years. You want another drink?
Me: No, I'm fine. Thanks.
Brad: Ok. Just making sure.
Me: You know I had no idea. I mean we can leave.
Brad: Nah. This isn't my first time in a bar since I got sober. It takes 12 O'Douls to have the same effect as 1 regular beer.
Me: [ thinks he's on his 3rd or 4th by now. ]

Now, I don't know how you even really broach the subject of sobriety when you are first meeting someone. I mean is that something you disclose before you go out? I don't know, but once again, I feel like he's not being who he really is with me and it bothers me! GREATLY!

[ fast forward a few minutes of awkward chit chat, then in walks a brood of bachelorettes ]

Ordinarily, I DO NOT LIKE BACHELORETTE PARTIES! 'cause I know things will get real ugly, real fast. But, upon further inspection, this brood of bachelorettes seemed quite mannered and subdued, so I set aside judgment for the time being.

The ladies gathered nearby our table and no sooner had they arrived, than one of the many drunken college frat boys was mashing on one of them rather hard.

Drunk Frat Boy: [ places his drink on my table and proceeds to harass Bachelorette Party Girl ]
Me: [ feels encroached upon and starts seething. I mean usually you'd motion to the current occupants of a table if it's ok to set your drink on their table and most folks nod and say sure..no problem. ]
Me: [ continues to watch frat boy with a keen eye...ponders shoving his drink onto the floor..can feel that Brad is terrified that I might actually do it ]

I could see that Bachelorette Party Girl was trying unsuccessfully to convince the drunk frat boy to leave her alone. Finally, I intervened on her behalf.

Me: HEY! YOU! BEAT IT! [ points finger at him and shoos him away ]
Drunk Frat Boy: [ looks at me and see that I'm entirely serious and moves away ]
Brad: [ speechless motionless ]
Me: [ thinks to myself, "What a freakin' wuss! I had to get control of the situation. He didn't even try to say anything to the schmuck to save the girl. I bet he was praying he didn't have to fight that guy and I'm like "PFFT!" I'd break both of y'all in half in a few seconds." ]
Bachelorette Party Girl: HEY THANKS! That guy just wouldn't leave me alone. I told him I didn't want to dance and that I'm married, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer. [ places her drink on our table and moves in closer to us. ]
Me: [ smiles and scoots over]
Brad: [ leaves to go get another O'Douls ]
Me: [ eyeroll ]

So, what happened to chivalry and manly mens who fight for a woman's honor? ALL GONE!
They been wussified or something...seems like girls have to fend for themselves more often than not these days. 'nother reason, I'm going to take Krav Maga, get a gun and take up shooting practice.

Anywho, back to the bar, soon a table frees up behind us and we move, allowing the bachelorette party to have our old table. They weren't so bad. I'll be nice.

At our new table, Brad and I had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to talk about. NOTHING! I watched as Brad removed yet another O'Douls label from his beer. He was ashamed. I picked up the label and shredded it into little pieces as we stood there speechless and watched the people dance and flirt. I mean he was all snuggled up next to me, c0ck blocking and all, but we had nothing to talk about and I KNEW I wasn't going to dance with him. So, I decided to pull the proverbial plug and go home. That was it. I motioned to Brad that I was leaving and he followed behind as we went up the stairs to the exit. I could feel his eyes scanning my booty butt cheeks, too. LOL! At the door, I told him it was nice to meet him and have a good night. THE END!

So, the moral of this story is that you aren't guaranteed what you see or what you think when you meet someone in real life from online. DUH! That goes without saying, but when it does happen, I'm mainly pissed off that the person didn't think highly enough of themselves to just be themselves and not put on aires or out right lie about what they look like or who they are...lumps and all. Put your lumps on the table and sort through them together with the other person and let them decide if they can deal with 'em or not. Don't just spring stuff on 'em. That's NOT cool. Not at all.