92
by rachael_Archive
Friday night, May 27, 2005
The guy's a tool.
I went on a date with Shaggy from the Scooby Doo show.
He did not show up in the mystery machine, rather a car with no air conditioning, which was a little unpleasant. It was about 93 degrees outside.
7:30pm - Rico Suave shows up a 1/2 hour early. I had just gotten out of the shower and still had my bathrobe on. I let him in and tried to run away to get dressed, but he caught me with a hug that I had to end quickly and uncomfortably.
The new green/gold pumas and one of the new green shirts (it said "Dublin") had been donned for the evening's affair, and he did not fail to point it out to me.
Through the bathroom door (I mean right outside - it's a small apartment) I can hear that he's picked up my out of tune acoustic 12 string that is only strung with six strings. If there's only one thing I can do with a guitar, that is tune it, and I began to grind my teeth as I heard him put it even further out of tune. Apparently thinking he'd nailed it, he began to strum something slightly familiar that I only recognized after he began to....sing. More like howl really. Johnny Cash.
He was outside my bathroom door serenading me while committing debauchery on a lovely Johnny Cash song: Hurt.
I did not want to leave the bathroom.
It wouldn't have been as bad as it ended if he would've quit when I came out, but instead I guess he was warming himself up, because he then proceeded to play something else that I couldn't really follow because of the intonation problem. Then the singing started again and I got really nervous. He was obviously singing something he'd written, and it was about a girl and how he'd found the one he'd been waiting for blah blah. The intonation problem was more apparent in his voice than the guitar. I started feeling more uncomfortable for him than myself. When would he stop? I hoped it was egotistical of me to think his diddy had anything to do with me, but I was dissappointed. When we got in the car he told me he hasn't written any songs on his guitar in a long time, and that he'd started up again a week ago after we met - that I was his muse.
I really contemplated jumping out the door of a moving car.
I REALLY needed a drink if I was going to make it.
8:00pm - In the car.
Sweat pouring from my armpits, all I could do was chain smoke and look at the CDs.
Guns N Roses
Guns N Roses
Oasis
Beastie Boys
Nine Inch Nails
Green Day
Blink 182
No need to go any further with this list.
He talked a mile a minute - I can't really remember what he was talking about; I was pretty uncomfortable. I do remember when he introduced me to his Shaggy voice though. It was on this car ride, and that was the beginning. He would talk funny and say "Scoob!" randomly throught the rest of the evening.
I really really need a drink.
8:30pm - At least I didn't have to think of things to say to him.
He's a talker.
My head was spinning by the time we got to the restaurant, which was on the HUGE tourist road in Orlando, International Drive. A place no resident goes on a Friday night. But since we were there, I decided to focus on the restaurant instead of wigging out about the crowds of tourists. It was a terrific Argentinian Steakhouse. Good choice. 1 point for Shaggy the tone-deaf adult ADHD case.
They were making us wait about 45 minutes so we sat at the bar. I slammed 2 bourbon rocks and was tipsy almost instantly. Empty stomach, you know? I just felt like this was the only way I was going to make it.
At this point, I don't remember a lot he talked about, but I do remember that he asked me to order for both of us. Something I'm a little tired of in the people I've dated. Nobody ever seems to know what they want to eat, and they always end up asking me to order for them!! Really poor decision makers seem to be attracted to me.
When a server first approaches your table they take the lead from you, and whoever is initially more assertive or say, whoever orders their drink first automatically becomes in charge. Then every question is automatically directed at you, and everytime a question is asked during an interaction with the server, not only does the server stare at you for an answer, but so does whoever else you're with. this made it even more uncomfortable because I already felt like I had absolutely no control over my fate that evening, and now I had to feign control for yet another person. I ordered another drink.
Alcohol has different ways of relieving inhabitions for everyone, you know? some people let their anger loose, some people become senselessly happy; sometimes it's like a truth serum and and some people analize themselves or others to death.
Me?
I become our Lady of The Bleeding Heart of Empathy. I can suddenly pretend like I don't exist and empathize deeply with anyone. I understand everything, which makes people want to reveal probably a little more than they should on a first date.
SO....
Where do I begin? He's in a custody battle over his daughter like every six months, he's about to have his house foreclosed on, he has a son that he never sees and gave custody of over to the mother's grandparents and his last girlfriend killed herself.
I have enough of my own problems - I cannot get in any deeper. I smell trouble. But then of course I was Lady Bleeding Heart, so I cooed and shook my head and apologized for the rest of the world.
9:45pm - Midway through our meal we decided to step out and smoke a cigarette, so I flagged down the server and told him of our intentions and he assured us that we'd be fine. Bringing our 5th round outside with us, we partook and he revealed to me that his cat had just had kittens. Oh the glee!
Now I must go to his house for another drink after the dinner so that I can see the kittens, and we'll probably hit a bar afterward. Right. I'm sure this is exactly what he had in mind for a lipsticked busomy drunk girl.
When we went back inside, I was shocked to find everything cleared from the table, fresh settings in their places and my purse gone. Apparently the server forgot to tell the buss person that we were smoking (I would think the purse left behind might tell a person they should ask before clearing up only 1/2 eaten steaks). Not to fear - the staff was very apologetic, brought me back my purse and replaced our meals, which we took to go anyway because our stomachs were full of booze.
It's just shite that I had to deal with the whole thing because remember the server has designated me to be in charge, and then he sets the bill down in front of me.
The problem with this is that we both knew he would be picking up the bill - he asked me out for christ's sake - but there's a terribly uncomfortable moment when I have to hand it across the table to him. I don't know if this is uncomfortable for everyone, but it sure as hell is for me, because I have fully supported myself financially all my life. For my 14th birthday, I got my 1st job, and I bought my own 1st car on the savings. I've worked every day of my life since. I moved out on my own, 1,000 miles away from home on my 18th birthday. I've never depended on anyone. Money makes me very uncomfortable.
10:30pm - On our way to his place we stopped by a liquor store and much to my dismay he picked up shitty beer. I should've just gone in and got myself something to drink - it's not his fault I'm a bourbon snob. Perhaps it's good that I didn't have any more though.
When we got his place, I was sobered up very quickly by the sight of it.
I had a very hard time believing that an 8 year old girl lived there. The place was trashed. Piles of stuff everywhere, really nasty carpet that looked like it'd never been vaccumed, etc.... To his credit though, his daughter's room was very clean and nicely painted, and he explained to me that he had two sloppy roomates and that he was the only one who ever cleaned. This didn't seem so likely though when we went into his room to see the kittens. It looked like somebody bombed it.
But there they were, in a box in the corner. 11 tiny little black squirmy beauties crying for their mother. The adoration lasted for about 10 or 15 minutes before I realized that something didn't seem quite right. Where was the kitten's mother? There's no way a cat had 11 by itself, so were there 2 litters in this box? The babies were REALLY small, like just opened their eyes, and they were squirming all over eachother crying pitifully. It was a very hungry cry.
Over a shitty bottle of beer, I sat on the edge of his waterbed (WATERBED? Who the fuck sleeps in a waterbed in this decade??!!) and learned the pieces of information that would finally bring this date to a screeching end.
The kittens were 2 seperate litters, the product of 2 cats, Perch and Wild Child. They wandered into the room about that time, and I felt shock, because they really both looked like kittens themselves. There was no trace of a nursing mother on either of their bodies. They completely ignored the crying kittens and sniffed me up. These cats weren't right. My date explained to me the geneology of his cats, and I nearly fell off my seat. The 2 cats had mated with their own father, who was also the uncle of one of them as well. This means that Wild Child and Perch's father had mated with his sister, and then with 1 child of that litter and then mated with a child from a different litter he was responsible for. Where were all these other cats, I asked. They were his roomates, some ran away, they gave away some of them etc.....
I had to have him draw a diagram to be sure that I was understanding exactly how inbred the cats were.
No wonder they weren't taking care of their babies. They were completely tweaked.
I waited about 15 minutes so as not to be rude, then I asked him to take me home. I really did have to get up early on Saturday to catch a ride down south to spend the weekend with my new nephew. I didn't lie. I just used the information to my advantage.
12:00am, Saturday May 28, 2005
That really uncomfortable sitting-in-the-car-at-the-end-of-a-date-that-didn't-end-in-bed moment was LONG. I felt bad for this very very nice guy with a good vocabulary who cares alot about his daughter and was nice enough to take me for a great dinner. I really wanted to like him. I could tell he needed a little help. I decided to kiss him to end the uncomfortable moment, so I could get out of the car. I kept it to a minimum, because I really didn't want to lead him too far and hurt his feeling, but I'm a person too, and a drunk one at that, with primal uges, so I smooched him for a minute and said good night.
Also to his credit he waited until I was in the door before he pulled away.
The end.
So Bradley, I prefer cash to check.
