It’s early in February 2012 and I am excited that after only a few short days of being online I have been sought out and asked out by “Mitch.” I am a big believer in not getting my hopes up as it leads to major let down, but hey its a date and I am excited.
At first Mitch seems nice. He emails and then exchanges numbers for texting and a few phone calls. He asks me out for drinks and we make plans accordingly. I am still very new at this dating thing so I agree to a very public well known sports bar in a very busy part of town.
I plan the perfect outfit knowing that I am now “on the market,” but nothing too boob-a-licious and revealing but then again I don’t want to look like a complete prude. So, just a side note, I am a curvy woman. I am 5’9, with some great curves, a few bulges (who doesn’t) and great boobs. Nothing bought or plastic, just lucky that way. I am not some twiggy/Barbie type and I have always been leery of dating because of that reason. I plan my “date” outfit accordingly.
Date night…I text Mitch to see what “color” he is wearing so I do not embarrass myself if his picture is nothing like he looks now. Much to my surprise Mitch says he is wearing a “tiel” shirt…(nope, I did not spell it wrong)…Mitch meant teal. Oh, God, you have to be kidding right? Mitch also volunteered that he would be the best looking guy in the place. Oh really? I should have turned my car around and headed home. Oh, why didn’t I?
I enter the restaurant/bar and put my name on the waiting list while I wait for Mr. Wonderful to arrive…already late. He enters wearing a teal/tiel shirt. He was average looking but, I assure you he wasn’t the best looking guy in the place.
We make small talk until our table is ready and are seated across from each other. My darling date Mitch proceeds to tell me that I am much more attractive in person then in my pictures. Aww, very sweet and flattering…right up until the point he tells me I should “reach” under the table and find out. REALLY ASSHOLE?
I should have gotten up and walked out right then and there, but I was stupid and stayed to see how the train wreck would unfold. Mitch ended every sentence of the evening stating “I don’t know why I am telling you this”…I guess he assumed I was his free therapist for the night. Mitch then spent the next 2 hours pounding double rum and coke’s and trying to convince me we were going back to my place with a bottle of wine. Again, REALLY ASSHOLE?
So the topping on the perfect evening was the more intoxicated Mitch became the more obscene be became. When I finally made it clear that we would not be going back to my place, he leaned in across the table and said that he was ok with me “sucking him off in his car.” Oh, holy hell ASSHOLE.
I was now planning my escape in my head. At this point I am praying that the fire alarm goes off or that there is a bomb threat. That night I learned there really is a God. Mitch’s cellphone rang and it was his daughter who had been in a minor fender bender accident. As he is screaming at her in the middle of the restaurant and getting stared by each and everyone in the place. I manage to convince him that he needs to “go to her” and make sure she is ok.
Mitch reluctantly agrees and leaves. Oh, thank God. I gladly pay the check and have never been so happy to cough up my hard earned cash in all my life. I get in my car and head home only to have my cell phone ring. Wow, it’s Mitch. He’s intoxicated at his daughter’s accident scene and is apparently still horny. Now he is again trying to convince me to give him my address so he can come over…REALLY ASSHOLE…just bring a shovel and a bag of lime.
I arrive home and let my best friends know that I am home safe and pissed off about the whole evening. So the lesson learned from date #1…spelling does matter!
The adventures continue….
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