Chronicle #99.2: The Creepy VP Part 3

Subtitle: Dude, Where's My Car?

Remember we left off with my drunken exit from a wine bar about 11:30 p.m. on a Monday. 

*All times are approximate...

6:30 a.m. Tuesday morning

Oh god. What was I thinking? I'm home, right? Ugh. I have to go to work. Hmmm... I literally passed out on top of my phone...

Phone log:

• 12:30 a.m. Missed Call - no message
• 2:30 a.m. Missed Call - no message
• 4:00 a.m. Missed Call - no message

7:30 a.m.
Steve calls. I do not answer. I'm on my way to work. Voicemail (paraphrased):

Oh man. I'm so sorry for last night. I have no idea what happened. I think I was mugged. I'm missing $100 from my wallet. Call me later. 

8:00 to 8:30 a.m.  
He probably sent me 5-6 texts which I don't have anymore because I've had about 10 phones since then, but I kept them for a long time because they were so weird and I was afraid he was going to turn into a stalker and murder me. My best recollection is as follows:

• I think I was drugged last night. 
• There was a woman at the bar before you got there who took a weird interest in me. 
• I never get like that from wine and beer. 
• I'm so sorry.
• Do you know where my car is? Did we take it anywhere? Please respond.

I replied to the last one mostly because I was so very annoyed. "I don't know where your car is. We didn't take it anywhere. Stop calling and texting. I'm not going to respond. Fuck off." I have a way with words, I think... 

Except that he immediately called. I didn't answer. I turned my phone off and showed my friend at work all the texts and we made fun of Steve for losing his car. 

10:21 a.m.  

From Steve via email. Subject "Mea Culpa":

If I don't hear back from you I will never contact you again...that is a
promise.

I have no idea what happened last night and have no recollection of
anything beyond ordering a second bottle of wine at the Samba room. I don't
have a receipt from there and if you paid the bill I will send you a check.

I'm very sorry and respectfully ask for your forgiveness..... I NEVER get
like that on wine/beer etc.

If I never hear from you again I want you to know that you are a fun,
beautiful woman and I'm sorry that a potentially promising friendship isn't
going to happen.

Steve

Sometime about 4:30-5:00 p.m.
I left work early because I don't do well with hangovers. I got a text from Steve that he had just gotten back from the ER where he'd tested positive for rohypnal (aka "date rape drug") and I started to feel super guilty, like maybe he had been drugged.

I did some google searching to understand and basically got the gist that part of why it's so hard to convict against people who drug their victims is that it leaves their body super fast... like within 12 hours. This is when my hung-over logic brain started working too... If the weird chick at the bar who'd taken an interest in him before I got there had drugged him, that would have been about 5 p.m. By 5 a.m. the next morning most of the drug would have been out of his system. He went to the ER supposedly about 1-2 in the afternoon. Besides, who drugs a 200lb 42 year old man and ONLY steals $100 from their wallet? And I've seen women who've been drugged. He wasn't drugged. He was drunk.

So, I guess I could be wrong and maybe I didn't give him the benefit of the doubt, but he didn't start off his post-drugged morning worried that his date has also been drugged. He immediately apologized for his behavior which means he remembers enough or assumes enough about having behaved like an asshole to immediately apologize... which I don't think drugged people do He never once asked me if I gotten home safely or if I felt bad. I believe he created the story as soon as he woke up... wherever it is he woke up.

The following Wednesday:
From Steve via email:

Hello Melissa,
It is sadly clear to me that I'm never going to see you or hear from you again. 

There is no way I can undo last Monday but if there was I would give anything to do just that. 

I suspect you don't believe my account of the events but even if you did you're likely thinking "way too much drama for 1 1/4 dates regardless of what happened" 

I know your project is scheduled to wrap up on Friday and wanted to wish you the best of luck moving forward. 

After my one reply of "fuck off"the morning after, I didn't respond to a single thing he sent me. I decided if he contacted me after this email last email I would tell him I was going to get a restraining order. Which I suppose might have been a little reactionary, but I've watched Lifetime. I know how these rich older men fall for younger women and then murder them. See also "I think I'm Tori Spelling."

The Moral of the Story?
There are many possible morals to this story. I could tell you that if a guy invites you to dinner but is already full you should end the date immediately... that's probably good advice. I could say I'll never make out with another VP of something in a bar and then pay the tab repeatedly when he goes to the bathroom, but that's just not a promise I can make. I should warn women to build up strong bladders so at no time do they ever leave their drinks alone at a bar because people do get drugged and that's scary and horrible.

What I do know for sure is that if a guy thinks he's been drugged, is missing $100, can't find his car, and isn't the least bit worried that you got home safely, you should tell him to fuck off... because even if all that stuff had happened (which would suck), he's obviously not very concerned with your wellbeing and that's a dealbreaker.

Oh... and I set up a LinkedIn profile with the name of Frank Banana so I could stalk him on LinkedIn and steal a picture since I can't find him on Facebook. But I guess he has taken down his picture and apparently  moved to Dallas. That's nice to know. Please connect with Frank Banana on LinkedIn. I'm sure it will do great things for your career... and mine as a Banana Rep for Chaquita.

And on that note, here's a cat dressed as a pirate which keeps making me snort.

This whole post would be more visually
appealing with pirate cats throughout.
Note to self.