Chronicle #99.2: The Creepy VP Part 2

Arm Candy?

As mentioned previously, it was hard for Steve and I to get together for our real first date due to his schedule and my stubbornness about his last-minute invites. Eventually, however, my curiosity killed my resolve and we did an unplanned thing. It was a Monday and he texted that he had a happy hour with clients in the afternoon/early evening, but I could meet him there and then we'd have dinner.

The client-event was to be held at a really nice joint downtown... $50/plate kind of place. I don't do first dates with that kind of per plate cost so I told him we could meet there, but we wouldn't be having dinner there.

I took a cab downtown and met him at his event. I wandered in, asked for the company Steve worked for and found him. He gave me a hug and introduced me around to his coworkers and clients. It then dawned on me that this was more than a convenient place to meet. I was being shown off.


I guess I could have found it flattering. I've never been arm candy. I was instantly annoyed, however, that this 42 year old thought I would enjoy being shown off for my youthfulness. I shoved down my irritation because I'd decided that I was not going to sabotage this by nit picking everything he did that was annoying. 

We had one glass of wine, I chatted with strangers, and we walked down the street to a more reasonably priced dinner place.

Dinner?
Steve had been at the happy hour since maybe 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I arrived about 6...maybe 7. When we got to the restaurant for dinner, he pointed us straight to the bar. He'd apparently eaten so many appetizers that he was no longer hungry... Who invites someone to dinner and then fucking eats so much they don't WANT dinner? This guy.

I ordered an appetizer because I was starving and already getting a little tipsy on glass #2 of wine on an empty stomach. We chatted. He drank. We chatted. I ate. We chatted. When the server came over to ask if I was done with my appetizer he handed her the plate even though I totally wasn't done yet.

He went to the restroom and I paid the tab while he was gone (Take THAT!). I think I mostly just didn't want him to think he could buy me or that I couldn't pay for myself. I get stubborn if you haven't picked up on that yet.

He ordered another bottle of wine. We chatted. I suggested we go somewhere else so he got the tab and was startled that all that was on it was the newest bottle of wine. He paid that.

We got up from our table in the bar area and went over to the actual bar. Um, ok? By now he'd had most of the 2 bottles of wine that he ordered (I probably had 2-3 glasses out of those 2 bottles) and whatever he drank before I arrived. He ordered us beers. We were again kissing at a bar which I was trying to keep moderate and appropriate (because, seriously, it's not my style), but he was getting really handsy and forward. At one point I had to stop him from putting his hand down the front of my shirt.

I have to stop here and say that I do not normally allow men to treat me poorly. We were having tons of fun in between these HUGE red flags and I was so incredibly curious to see where it would go... like a really fucked up experiment. He was otherwise very charming, smart, and witty and as I've stated before, VERY flattering to me. So don't think me a doormat... just a bit of an idiot. Back to the story...

He went to the restroom and I paid our bar tab (And THAT!). I was so torn at this point about whether to go home or what. He arrived back at the table and I told him I'd paid the tab because it was time to go.

The end of an evening... 

We walked outside and I suggested we go to my house which is about a 3 mile cab ride away. I figured if he was going to grope me, at least we could do it in the privacy of my house. The conversation went like this:

Me: Let's get a cab and go to my place. 

Him: Do you have any booze at your house? 

Me: No, but do we really need any more to drink? I'm pretty wasted. 

Him: We could get a room at the Hilton. 

Me: I'm not a hooker, Steve. I just invited you to my house...

Him: Oooh, let's go in here.... 

And "here" was a nice little empty wine bar. I was speechless. He ordered us wine. I was finally able to speak:

Me: What the fuck are we doing here? 

Him: What do you mean?

Me:  I just invited you to my fucking house and you bring us to another bar? What is wrong with you? 

Him: Oh, um.... I guess I didn't understand. Let's go. 

Me: No. Let's stay. 

The bartender was barely willing to serve us in the first place, he could see how wasted Steve was (and possibly me, too). He kept a pretty close eye on us and I was so embarrassed. I'm not one to cause a scene in a bar and let me remind you it was only Monday so we stood out.

Steve got up to use the restroom and once again, I paid the tab. I watched him walk back from the bathroom, pause halfway down the bar looking up like the wine bar had TVs (they don't). He looked around blankly like he couldn't remember who he was with or where I was. He finally saw me at the other end of the the bar, in a sea of absolutely no one else and came over.

I really really wish I could remember exactly what I said, but I was rather drunk at this point. I remember patting him condescendingly on the chest (which I guess is "my move"), telling him he's a classless drunk asshole (or something to that effect) and to fuck off (I do remember saying this... I think rather loudly). He protested, but as far as I know, he didn't try to come after me.

I stumbled out of the bar and raised my hand for a cab. The bartender had conveniently already gotten me one and I got in thinking "Goddamn!!... I can't remember exactly what just happened. People are going to want to know why I told him to fuck off and left and I can't remember. Did he say something or was it just his total drunkness? Oh dammit, drunk brain!!!" 

It is important to note that at no point in the evening had I actually used the restroom (thank you weird camel bladder) so this is not going to end in a cautionary tale of a girl getting drugged by her date. My drunkenness was all my own doing with old fashioned beer, wine, and gross curiosity... and possibly a lot of idiocy on my part.

I safely entered my home at about 11:30 pm and passed out on top of my phone...

Don't worry, fair readers. This tale is not at its end. There's a whole Part 3 to anticipate and it gets so much more ridiculous. 

Also, I really wanted some cartoons to throw in, but I can't draw, so if you can and you want to illustrate my date, I'll send you some cookies, or a recipe for cookies... or a dollar. 

Also #2: Don't judge me for waiting that long to send him packing or for choosing to invite him to my home. We all make decisions that in hindsight sound like the dumbest and most dangerous things ever, but in the moment seem incredibly logical... especially if lubricated enough.