getting mouth mauled by a crazy person

Cowabunga, dudes. Welcome to crazy town. Wahnsinn in German.

So Mr. A text me a few hours before the date telling me he had to work late so if we could move our date an hour later, that’d be awesome. No problems. I of course am the first one there. No big deal. When he gets there ten minutes later, he apologized profusely. I told him no big deal and joked that I was able to get eight shots deep while I was waiting. (Not true. Not a shots girl. Unless of course my arm is twisted. Also, I really don’t think it’s appropriate or necessary to “take the edge off” before a date.) To which he replied that he was a little bit drunk. Apparently working late = happy hour for him. I’m not even going to go into the implications of that.

Okay, I can deal. He wasn’t quite belligerent and he was a lot more handsome than I remembered. Five minutes into the date after he denounced society and ranted about the awesomeness of atheism, he starts with the touching. “Society, man! You know what I mean?” he announced as he grabbed my hands and pulled me in for face mauling numero uno. Yeah, full on mouth plant.

Now, I am without a doubt attracted to the super aggressive alpha male. (I know I have mad shoes [issues]…) There’s something about a dude who can successfully boss me. Not many can. Actually few have even dared. That’s probably why it’s so magical for me. But this was too much. It was an okay kiss, and I didn’t mind the actually act of kissing him… I just didn’t feel that it was warranted. There was no moment of connection.

Cause we certainly were not connecting. He was all about socialism, banishing the competition that capitalism provides us and that the world can only survive¬† if we all work together. I felt that way when I was thirteen. I wanted to be the first female president and rid the world of poverty. I was once that idealistic. Everyone is equal. Everyone is good. Now that I am a little bit older and have been involved in several group projects in school and work, I know that this is not true. Everyone isn’t the same. Some people have good work ethics. Some people are lazy. Some people are so good they are practically saints. Some are bad. Some people are just average. That’s why socialism doesn’t work. It’s a great theory, but at some point the people that have good work ethics get pissed at the lazy people, so they themselves start being lazy. Thus collapsing governments. Just ask Czechoslovakia. I attempted to explain this to Mr. A, but he didn’t let me get a word in edgewise between belting out his views and attempting to shove his tongue down my throat. He told me I was racist because I don’t think everyone’s the same. Then he went on a rant about how the institution of marriage is ruining society… I should have just let that go, but it’s not really in my nature to not speak my mind. He then calls me Sarah Palin, while again mauling my face. Way to get me all hot and bothered. I’m not going to get into how I feel about her, but lets just say that last sentence was laying on the sarcasm super-super-super thick.

It was a little bit of a mess. I like a man who can argue, but he just wasn’t making too much sense. He actually seemed like one of those really smart people (he’s finishing his degree in bio-chemical engineering), but forming sentences seemed to be putting him under duress. He went onto apologize for being so drunk and saying that he was so nervous he had to get drunk to meet me. “Why?” I asked. His response was that it was just that I was so hot as he again engulfed me for a full body hug. I politely tried to wiggle from his clutches and told him that “We’re really not quite there yet.”

So this went on for about an hour. I was really disappointed. This guy showed some promise on New Years Eve. On my way to the date I was singing the “Mama’s gonna make-out tonight song”. The last thing I wanted to do was be alone with him. I called my friend Joann from the bathroom and told her to call me with a flat tire in ten minutes. SUPER SHADY, I know. However, I just didn’t want to risk being dry humped by him against my Toyota Corolla. He didn’t seem dangerous, but if he was all over me like that in a crowded bar, I can only imagine what he’d do in a parking lot. I got the call, apologized to my date, told him to call me and ran out the door.

I smoked in my car on the way home. And in our apartment when I got home last night. I was up until the wee hours chatting with my sis as she told me about the time she went on a date with a guy who told her that he was so nervous that he drank an entire bottle of Goldshlager before the date. Yeah, I’ma gonna put dating on the back burner for a while. I would just prefer to wait until going on bad dates makes me laugh instead of remind me that I miss someone who I shouldn’t be missing.

Hilarious note in regards to our shoe box apartment: My friend Josie dropped off some school books for my sister today. As she approached our apartment building her three-year-old daughter Ava said, “Aunty lives here!!! It’s so big, it’s like a mansion!” I just love that little nugget. Perception is everything.


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January 2010
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