The monkey made me do it

Oy vey

Four hours of sleep last night, due to an unnaturally extended late-night attempt to wash away all trace of a horrible date.

Yes, another one!

The worst thing was that I knew going into it that it was going to be a bad one - I'd spoken to this guy over the phone and witnessed as every joke flew over his head entirely or was misinterpreted into something patently unfunny (there was one where he was trying to think of a time when his life had been threatened (I get onto strange conversation topics sometimes) and I, playing on his rock-star status (he's a local drummer), made the admittedly kind of lame quip "anything involving groupies?". He thought I said herpes, and was highly offended and just grew even moreso when I laughed for a while once I found out about his misinterpretation. That was the only really funny thing that was said all night, and he didn't mean it and didn't agree with my mirth. Good times.). He also was that brand of southern man who assumes that everyone adores him and that if he likes me, of course I like him. Not quite.

So he chose a very expensive bar to meet, where he supposedly knew the bartender (though the guy wasn't all that friendly and didn't give us any drink specials). The cheapest drink was $7, and he insisted that I have three. You can see where this is going, I bet - he didn't pay for me (or even offer, though he had asked me out and chosen the spendy place), and told the waitress to split our bill evenly when his drinks were more expensive than mine! WINNER!

Our conversation was mostly me talking, with him asking all sorts of actually pretty improper and personal questions, and trying to force me to juggle the two tennis balls he'd brought along for the purpose (long story). He also touched me a lot, which is a big red flag and rather irritating, given that I was by the minute growing less enchanted with his "YOU MUST LOVE ME" charms. I told him about how happy I was/am being single, and how that the most common complaint about me by men is that I'm too independent and resourceful, and that I don't seem to need them. He didn't get the hint, and what's worse said that he didn't like doing anything mechanical or getting his hands dirty (I believe the direct quote was "that's why I pay them to do that stuff").

We talked about church, which I had just come from, and how I was getting more and more involved in it and how he "had his beliefs" (no further explanation) but that he wouldn't be caught dead in a church (his words). I kept talking about how much I liked my place and really enjoyed spending time there. He again didn't see how I was distancing myself, and instead wanted to talk about my shoes. Really.

He talked down to me when I told him that I preferred comedies to dramatic movies (I hate schmaltz and false emotional manipulation, and honestly think it's really hard to be truly funny), and thought that my love for Kung-Fu movies was misguided. He tried to tell me that the proper title for "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" was "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory", and wouldn't let me correct him ("Well, maybe that was the name of the original book then").

I wanted to hit him.
None of our conversations flowed, most of what I said he missed.
grrr.

When I finally was able to pull away ("ooh, I have to wake up SO early tomorrow for work! Darn it all!") I made to run, but he grabbed me, slapped his arm over my shoulders, and insisted that he was going to walk me to my car. When we got to my car I pulled out my keys and opened the door (this, by the way, is universal "Female" for I-don't-want-to-hug-or-kiss-you-I-just-want-to-get-in-my-damn-car). He grabbed both of my hands (including the one with the keys in it, which hurt and distracted me from what he was doing) and kissed me hard (which he was able to do because I was looking down at my hand being mauled by my very sharp and pointy key bundle). I pulled back until I was almost inside my car, bent at an awkward angle trying to disengage without seeming overly rude. He kept going on and on about how nice my lips were. I said "Thank you" and got in my car and tried to shut the door. He knelt down in the doorway and wouldn't let me until I promised to pencil him in for next weekend. Given that I hadn't told him a day or activity (or even really agreed to anything but a pencil mark) I agreed and very sweetly shoved him out of my car so I could close the door.

Then I picked up Emily and went to a club to watch some breakdancing and see the pretty men and try to recapture the spirit of hope and adventure that makes me agree to even meet anyone anymore and not just be happy with my dog.

At least Monkey usually keeps her tongue to herself.

posted by LadyJay @ 12:48 PM