Tag Archives: drinking

Ignoring Signs Leads to Disappointment

19 Jun

I had a date tonight. My date was with Ivan, a guy I knew while student teaching. I ran into him two nights in a row a couple of weekends ago, and we exchanged numbers. I had high hopes for this date: we are both into education, I had a mini-crush on him while we were in college, and he is appropriate for me to date (meaning he isn’t friends with my ex, I don’t work with him, he hasn’t hooked up with one of my friends, and he isn’t the captain of my softball team).

 The date was lukewarm, at best. I should have known better, too. All of the signs were there, but I am a kind, forgiving person so I ignored them.

Ivan sent me a text around 8:40 on Friday night asking me if I would like to grab a drink. I didn’t respond to the text since I was eating dinner with Leo (more about him in another post). About an hour later he sent me another text saying “Some other time hopefully. lol” I responded with a quick “for sure!” text, and he sent me a smiley face.

(By the way, am I the only one who finds it annoying when people put “LOL” after things that shouldn’t make them laugh out loud? Are they really laughing out loud, or is that just a way of conveying a carefree tone? I use smiley faces for that. Everyone likes a smiley face. LOL’s are just stupid.)

I sent Ivan a text today asking him how his weekend was. Usually, I like to wait for a guy to text me first, but since I was a bit unreachable on Friday (and because Leo is becoming slightly relationshipy) I decided to text him to let him know that I was still interested. Ivan responded to my text right away, and he wanted to do dinner tonight but I had already eaten by the time I texted him.

We agreed to do drinks (via text. HELLO, Daisy! Steve Harvey would not approve), and I met him at the same bar that I went to with Mark, my first date after The Breakup and the guy who was already drunk when I met him at the bar. I think that bar is just not a good first date bar. I’ll have to remember that in the future.

Perhaps we could be friends.

Ivan showed up a little late, and he was very laid back during the entire date. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate laid back guys, but this guy was wearing flip-flops with ripped jeans and a polo shirt. This might work for some guys, but I felt as if I put much more thought and effort into my outfit than he did, and it only took me thirty minutes to get ready for the date. Including a shower.

We had some good conversations, but I just didn’t feel the spark. I had two drinks, Ivan had three, and he volunteered to pay for the drinks at the end of the night. Then he threw fifty bucks on the table for our bill that was forty-six dollars and some change, and he promptly left for the bathroom. While he was gone, I paid for my drinks and left the remainder of his cash as a tip.

Regardless of the poor tip and the lack of butterflies, I was still open to a second date with Ivan until he asked me for a ride home. Sound familiar? Mark asked me for a ride home, too. I’m telling you, this bar is cursed for first dates.

You need a ride? Really?

I agreed to drive Ivan home partially because we were friends in college, but also because he would have been stranded at the bar had I refused. On the drive home I realized that he was drunk (I don’t know if he had drinks before our date, but based on his behavior and body language I think he had), and he explained to me that he was letting his mom borrow his car while hers is in the shop. That is honorable and all, but he shouldn’t have asked me out if he didn’t have a car.

Oh, and when I pulled up to his house, he asked me if I would like to come in for a tour. I declined.

In case you missed them (or I didn’t mention them), here are the signs that I so stupidly ignored:

  1. Ivan waited two weeks to text me after getting my number.
  2. He waited until almost 9:00 on a Friday night to ask me out – and he wanted to go out that same night.
  3. When I sent him a text this evening, he wanted to go out tonight, but he took two hours to let me know when and where we would meet. Even after agreeing on a time he was fifteen minutes late (perhaps he was hooking up with someone else before the date, kind of like how I hooked up with Viper before my date with Mark).

Perhaps I am over analyzing the situation, but I am a language arts teacher. That is what I do.

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The Gentle Giant

6 Jun

*Interesting Observation*

I have better luck meeting decent men in bars when I am sober.

So I met a new boy man this past weekend. His name is Leo, and he is in the military. He is also more than a foot taller than I am, which is kind of fun.

Meeting Leo

Friday night I went to a popular country bar with a couple of friends. I volunteered to be the designated driver since I had my first softball league practice the following morning, and I really just wanted to two-step the night away.

After dancing with a couple of older men and a few young frogs, Leo approached our table and asked all of us if we would like a drink. I found this quite impressive considering most guys only offer to buy a drink for the girl he is hitting on. The girls declined the drink offer but suggested that Leo ask me to dance. Poor guy got a little flustered insisting that he couldn’t dance the two-step and that he hadn’t danced in years.

He danced with me anyway – that is if you could call what we did dancing. Really, we just skipped around on the dance floor and sang along to the music at the top of our lungs while he spun me around and around. I had a blast! After the first dance, we had a nice long conversation at the bar while Leo drank another beer. I did notice that he talked a little bit more than I am used to, but he also had a few drinks already so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

After a while I felt a little bad for neglecting my friends, so I made my way over to the table while Leo visited with an old friend from college. After a couple of songs had passed, a sweet looking nerdy guy asked me if I would dance with him. I didn’t really want to because I was into Leo, but the girls insisted that I dance with him.

After my dance, I looked around for Leo. He was easily the tallest guy in the bar, so I found him pretty quickly – talking to a couple of skanky looking blonde girls (and I am not saying that out of jealousy. These girls were wearing super short, tight dresses and fuck-me heels that would be much more appropriate for a Vegas night club or the local red-light district – not for a country bar with a mechanical bull). I shrugged it off and went back to my table.

Not even four minutes passed before Leo was back at our table. He pulled me close to him and said, “Hey, I just want you to know that I am over there talking to those two blonde girls, but I would much rather be over here talking to you.”

I wanted to say, Well then why aren’t you? But instead I said with a friendly smile, “Yeah, I saw you over there.”

Leo explained further, “It’s just that my buddy is trying to hook up with one of them, and he needs my help.”

“Ooh, so you are playing wingman?”

“Pretty much. But I would really rather be over here with you.”

I smiled at him and said, “Go be the wingman, don’t worry about me. I’ll just dance while I wait for you to come back.”

I don’t think he liked my response, because he didn’t leave my side for the rest of the night.

Dinner with Leo

I gave Leo my number before leaving the country bar, and he sent me a text before I got home that night asking me to dinner. I turned him down for two reasons:

  1. Steve Harvey says to never accept a date when asked via text.
  2. I already had plans for Saturday night.

I did talk to Leo on the phone for a whopping five hours that weekend, and since he called me, I went to dinner with him on Monday night. It was delicious – and also only the second date I had been on since breaking up with The Ex. Let me tell you, this date went much better than the first.

  • Leo got out of the car and opened the door for me.
  • When we got to the restaurant, he opened the door to let me out of the car. Geez.
  • He made sure to pull my chair out for me.
  • He was very polite to the waiter.
  • He kissed me at the door and then asked if he could take me on a hike the next day. I agreed.

Okay, so maybe I am easy to impress, but compared to my other date since The Breakup this one was phenomenal. Plus, I can wear my super tall heels and still feel petite next to him.

The Super Sweaty Second Date

We went hiking on a nearby trail the next day. I’ll admit that I was kind of worried about hiking with him so early in our courtship because it isn’t the most glamorous activity, and early June tends to be hot and humid. I’m sure my hair was a mess the entire day, and my tank top had lovely sweat stains in some very unattractive places.

Leo didn’t care. In fact, he used it as an excuse to spray me with water from his water bottle.

After our hike, we went up to the peak of the mountain and found a rock that overlooked the valley below. It was beautiful, and we sat up there for over an hour. He kissed me on that rock a couple of times, which was very nice.

I won’t go into detail about what happened next. Basically, we just went back to my apartment to “watch a movie” and drink some wine. Two bottles later we decided it wouldn’t be safe for Leo to drive, so he slept in my bed. With me.

I know what you are thinking, but my pants stayed on all night long (and I should get mucho credit for that, because there were a few times where I really wanted to take them off).

I treated him to breakfast the next morning and we lounged around on the couch until noon watching the first season of How I Met Your Mother on DVD.

All in all, I would say it was good. Ooh, and the best part? Leo is only in town until the middle of July, which means that I don’t have to worry about a commitment. Woohoo!

I Need New Lingerie (but not from Kmart)

6 May

I met Gary through some mutual friends a couple of months ago, about a week or two after I broke up with The Ex. I wasn’t really interested in meeting anybody yet, so I didn’t see Gary that way. I did notice, however, that he is very attractive for a blonde guy. Clothes hang well on him, and he is HILARIOUS. That night he had me laughing harder than I had laughed in months.

I didn’t think about him again until about a week and a half ago. One of our mutual friends, Kelsey, was hanging out at my apartment for a night of wine and pedicures. Gary called her, and she invited him to join us. He declined, which isn’t too surprising considering we were drinking wine and playing with nail polish.

I guess she gave him my number because I got a text from him the next day apologizing for not coming to wine night. We started texting back and forth for two days before I invited him to come over and bond over our mutual hatred of Kelsey’s boyfriend, Ted.

Whose Lingerie Is This, Anyway?

He came over on a Friday night. It began with what had been promised: Ted bashing. Gary then spotted my acoustic guitar in my bedroom, and he sat on my bed to play a song. Let me tell you, this guy has a great country voice. Like, panty dropping great. He made up a song on the spot, and I wish I could remember the lyrics, because they were ridiculous.

We were both a bit punchy at this point, and one of us jokingly mentioned a text message he had sent me earlier that night. The text conversation looked like this:

I confessed that I didn’t own much in the way of lingerie, but Gary didn’t believe me. I decided to show him my last lingerie purchase from several years earlier: a Mrs. Clause baby doll, complete with white fur trim and white furry pom poms. Gary found this hilarious, and dared me to model it for him. I jokingly replied that I would model it for him only after he modeled it for me. He inspected the craftsmanship of my Kmart lingerie, and decided that with the elastic back and mesh material it would be forgiving enough to fit his larger frame. He kicked me out of my bedroom for his transformation.

Gary didn’t model this over his boxers like I expected. He stripped down to just skin before putting it on. I will never forget how he looked wearing my Santa lingerie while covering his manhood with both hands. I laughed so hard, my abs were screaming and tears were running down my face. Gary changed back into his clothes and then threw me onto the bed. He pointed at me and said, “stay there” in a very serious voice before disappearing into the bathroom. When he came back out he snuggled up next to me and we just stayed there, joking around.

Naughty Fun

Somehow, the topic of boobs came up, and I mentioned my discontent with my 32B cup size. Before I knew it Gary’s tongue was on my nipple, and I remember saying that I’ve never let a guy play with my boobs before kissing me first.

He smiled and said that if he kissed me I would want to sleep with him, so he wasn’t going to do that to me since he wasn’t planning on getting laid tonight. Then he moved on to my other nipple. I said something about not wanting to sleep with him after seeing him in my lingerie, and we both started laughing again.

Break Check!

But he was right. I did want to sleep with him. We did everything but have sex that night. We had a lot of fun with my bag of sex toys, and I blew his mind with my oral skills (his weren’t bad either). When I was ready for the grand finale however, he refused to participate. He said he wouldn’t sleep with me that night, and I still don’t understand why. He had hinted to some naughty fun in his text messages, and while we did have fun and it was quite naughty I expected sex that night, dammit! It is half the reason I invited him over in the first place. Ugh, what a tease!

Regardless, I had a ton of fun with Gary. I haven’t heard too much from him since, which is fine. He is a good time, but I don’t want anything but a good time with him for a couple of reasons:

  1. I learned that he hooked up with one of my best friends six months ago
  2. He has a girlfriend, but he insisted that they were on a break the night we fooled around. Whatever, that is his problem, not mine.

Luck of the Irish

30 Apr

So far, I’ve only been on one date since the breakup. This makes a grand total of four first dates in my life time. Wow.

I met Mark at a brewery on St. Patty’s Day. I wasn’t really looking for a guy at this point, but I wasn’t not looking. Anyway, this brewery is not really a place to meet people, but it was a good place to go watch the game and drink green beer with my girlfriends.

I noticed that a guy kept smiling at me from the next table, so I started smiling back (I just learned last week that this is referred to as “eye fucking.” I’ve been told I need to practice). He finally started talking to me, and I gave him my number at the end of the night. He called me in the parking lot before I had even gotten into the car. Is that cute, or creepy? I need help deciphering these things.

We had boring text conversations for about a week. I’m not kidding, his texts were awful. He always sent good morning texts, but they consistently looked like this: “goodmorning.” He would also send text messages that said, “Hi……” I mean, how many dots do you need? Three make an ellipsis, but six? Six make you an idiot…or a twelve-year-old.

I teach language arts. Poor grammar is a major turn off. Looking back, his texts should have been a deal breaker; but I was horny and feeling guilty about sleeping with Max so my standards were lower than they should have been.

The “Date”

I agreed to have dinner with him on Friday, and we made plans to meet at one of the fanciest, most expensive restaurants in town. I decided that I misjudged the guy. I mean, not everyone teaches language arts.

I was driving home from work on Friday when I got a text from Mark explaining that he had a meeting in the next town over so he may not be able to make our date, but he would let me know closer to seven. Seriously? We were supposed to meet at the freaking Chop House. I was going to shower, do my hair, do my nails, and shave my legs for goodness sake. I didn’t want to go through all that trouble for a maybe. I told him that we would just reschedule, but secretly I wasn’t planning on talking to this guy again in my life.

In the Breakup War, I’m Winning

The following day I had plans to see The Hunger Games with a friend. In the middle of the movie, I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. It turns out with was The Ex’s brother calling to say he was in my area and he wanted to pick up the TV. Needless to say, I was slightly pissed. I had broken up with The Ex six weeks earlier, and if he wanted to take the TV he should have done so when he moved out.

I decided to let The Brother take the TV without a fight, but I did go out and buy a newer, better TV before relinquishing the old one. I also made The Brother carry my new TV into my apartment for me before he carried the old TV out. It felt great.

I think I agreed to meet Mark for drinks that night because I wanted to prove that I was winning the post-breakup up competition. I was also very nervous to start dating, and since I didn’t really care if things worked out with Mark one way or the other he would be a good gateway date.

Hi, I’m An Alcoholic

I was supposed to meet Mark at the bar at 8:30, but I was about fifteen minutes late (it was totally worth it, but that’ll have to be a different post). As I leaned in to hug him, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He flagged down the server and ordered another cherry vodka and Red Bull, but the glass was about ¾ full of vodka with only a splash of Red Bull. He had about four of these over the course of our date, and he admitted to drinking before coming to the bar too. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me, but he had to have his brother drop him off at the bar. Needless to say, the date was awful.

Mark invited me to drive him back to his house to play pool, so I sent a 911 text to my friend, and she called me with a crisis. I was very grateful to crawl into my bed when I got home. Poor, clueless Mark called me twice and sent me about five more texts over the next two weeks before he finally got the hint.

I don’t know about this dating thing right now…casual sex sounds much more fun.

Good Ol’ Max

28 Apr

As you already know, I was with The Ex for eight years. When you spend eight years of your life with someone, you end up with quite a few mutual friends post-breakup. Max is one of those mutual friends. In fact, Max is The Ex’s best friend and he is also one of my best friends. Before I jump into the Max story, however, you need to understand the gravity of the situation, so sit back for a little background information.

 Here are some basic facts about Max:

  • Max was married when we met him.
  • His ex-wife, CDog, and I used to be good friends, until she lost her mind and became psychotic.
  • Max and CDog have two beautiful little girls together, and I love these little girls more than anything.
  • Max is the singer in The Ex’s band.
  • Max was a combat medic for the Coast Guard, and has served tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan.
  • Max was the only survivor in a helicopter crash while fighting overseas, and he is now considered a “disabled war veteran” but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.
  • Max is amazing.

Max: My Breakup Hero

The night I broke up with The Ex, I packed a bag and went to spend the night at a friend’s apartment in the same complex. Keep in mind that Valentine’s Day was on a Tuesday this year, so I had to teach the next day. In my emotional frenzy, I forgot to pack half of my over-night necessities, and the last thing I wanted to do was go back to my apartment to get the rest of my toiletries while The Ex blubbered over my shoulder.

As I pondered this dilemma, Max called to check on me. I think his intention was to talk me out of breaking up with The Ex, but after I half sobbed half yelled my extensive list of reasons for the breakup into his ear, Max said, “I can’t disagree with anything you just said.” I was shocked. He then asked if there was anything he could do to help me through the transition, and I explained that I needed The Ex to leave our apartment for the night so I could sleep in my bed and function at work the next day. Five minutes later The Ex knocked on the door to tell me that he was going to his parents’ house for the night. I went home, toiletry problem solved.

Wine + Whiskey + Max = Oops…

About a month after breaking up with The Ex, Max came over with wine and whiskey. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he usually came over with wine and whiskey pre-breakup too. We had a great time catching up with each other. He told me about his conquests, and I told him about the sexy teacher at school I had been flirting with for the past couple of months (I’ll tell you more about him later). We took shots of whiskey between glasses of wine, and even thought it was a Sunday night I decided to be reckless and drink far too much. I justified this behavior by reminding myself that the next day was library day, so I wouldn’t have to teach, just monitor.

The unfortunate thing about whiskey and wine is that there is a tipping point when all inhibitions come crashing down around you; but perhaps this happens with other alcoholic beverages too. Everybody has their spirit to stay away from. For most it is tequila, for many it is whiskey, for some it is rum. I suppose it is easier to blame the alcohol for your bad decisions than to blame yourself. It is much easier to say, “Well the whiskey made me do it” than to say, “I drank too much and made a bad decision.” I prefer to say that the whiskey made me do it.

Max and I reached the tipping point of intoxication around midnight. We were sitting on my couch which is really a love seat, and Max started to tell me how amazing I am, how much he’s loved me since he first met me, how he never thought that The Ex and I would break up. I’ll admit that I had always had a mini-crush on Max too, but I never thought I would have the opportunity or the carelessness to act on it.

He moved in to kiss me and in my foggy state of mind I was open to the idea, but he stopped just before making contact and asked if we were really going to do this.

We did. Twice.

The whiskey made me do it.