In dating, there always seem to an inverse relationship between looks and brains that can be applied to either of the sexes. I had met S at a mutual friend's dinner. From across the room there was this gorgeous specimen of a man who definitely should have been squarely in the dumb-as-dirt quadrant on the brains to looks diagram; however, an hour into the dinner, I found myself bantering along. A couple days later, our dinnertime banter turned into work-hours MSN chatter. A week later, I found myself at a weekday dinner with him again, sans the other people.
Things were going great. Here was a guy seemed like the full package: funny, smart, good looking... So we made plans to meet up for a Friday night dinner and drinks. Dinner went much like all the other times, good food and good company, wherein he tossed back a several drinks. "Hey," I thought to myself, "it's a Friday night. He's probably just loosening up." After dinner we met up with his friends and he proceeded to buy everyone and himself drinks every ten minutes. "Wow, what a generous guy." I thought to myself as I sipped on my first drink and watched him and his friends toss back drinks like prohibition imminent and this was the last night to get their jollies in.
The drinks with friends turned into a game of pool with friends. As I watched him score the winning shot, I'll admit it, I was pretty turned on. After all, in the words of Napoleon Dynamite, "Girls like men with skills." His skill apparently was the ability to maintain good hand eye coordination even after consuming 9 gin and tonics. Hot stuff.
He came over to me with a proud grin on his face. "Good work," I congratulated him and gave him a squeeze on his arm. Then he pulled me closer and for the first time in two weeks, conversation halted. We kissed. It was magical. Birds sang, I felt woozy. Then we kissed some more... and some more...and then we became the couple that everyone (including myself) makes fun of at bars. But I didn't care. He was hot. He was funny. He was perfect. "How about we go somewhere else quieter?" he murmured in my ear. Heady from alcohol and the lack of oxygen during the last ten minutes, I nodded mutely.
He led me out of the rowdy pool hall, away from his buddies and we went in search of quieter environs. At the new bar (which happened to coincidentally be my favorite), we nestled up on a couch. He ordered us drinks. He ordered himself more drinks. He ordered himself more drinks again (I was still on my first). "Mmmm, C" he slurred slightly, "you're a good kisser." It's amazing how being good looking can make tottering drunkeness seem almost okay. "Thanks," I beamed. "No, really," he leaned closer, "you make me wanna...BLAGHGHHGHGHHGHGHGHG." To my horror (and his) instead of sweet nothings flowing from his mouth, there came a steady stream of that night's dinner floating in a river of alcohol splattering all over the floor and on my new Calvin Kleins. He lept up with alarm in his eyes and soundlessly sped out of the bar.
I haven't heard from him since. I have also not revisited that bar. So much for happy endings.
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13 comments:
eeewwwwww... that's very disgusting. but to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he's been just too embarrassed to call you again. though, to just run off without a word of apology, that's rather un-gentlemanly. but he was drunk. i dunnoo... a man who can't handle his alcohol isn't much of a turn on for me. so, maybe it's just as well.
classic. just for fun, you should call him up in the middle of the night and say, "hey baby, i know what happened was a little embarassing, but i think we can BLAHGHHGHBHHHH!"
hang up, then giggle to yourself silently. :-)
I think you should give him another chance. Stick to coffee this time.
Haha! That was great. (Well, not for you, but come on, it was funny)
I like this guy's quick-thinking and pragmatic approach. Or rather, his departure.
Instictively knowing that saying "sorry" or dabbing at it with a napkin just wasn't going to help he ups and leaves without a word.
EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
that's NASTY!!!!!!!
but after one month, call him, you still should get him another chance
In the heap of the moment..he made the right move and split....there is nothing he could say or do.....classic story
Um yea, and this is why I stopped dating White guys...
Most of them are rude, arrogant, alcoholic pigs. They believe you owe them your pussy on a platter just for talking to you. Yea...well self-esteem is my anti-pig. Sorry fellas, but vomit and whisky-dik are NOT hot! Get over your lame selves.
Puking on a girl doesn't make her want to rip off her clothes and jump you? Damn. I am going to have to come up with a whole new strategy now.
You should give him a ring and have him compensate you for your new CK.
give him a call.. if he wants to make up for it... he'll pick up.. if not well.. there are other fish in the sea just don't get one that drinks like a fish.
yeah, that's disgusting indeed... but, you've seen him getting drunk over the whole evening, what did you expect to come out of his mouth, instead of that BLAHGHHGHBHHHH... you wouldn't hope for some Heideger-depth thoughts about the meaning of life, now would you?
I've been laughing at j's comment for about 20 minutes now. If I don't breathe soon I'm going to... er... you know.
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