Waaaaay back on Friday night, yours truly had a date.
A real date, with a boy and dinner and drinks.
I chose to meet said boy at place…just never know about having someone come to your house and being trapped in the car with them all night long. (that sounds perfectly cynical and awful….it is what it is.)
I had taken Friday off work to laze and clean for the impending arrival of the WonderFamily on Saturday. I slept late, laid on the couch, watched 27 Dresses, mowed the front lawn etc. It was fantastic. Then it came time to get ready and with a little help from the redhead, I got the clothes lined out and off I went.
I got there too early (habit) and sat in my car and cleaned out my purse for a few minutes then walked in. He wasn’t there. Arg. But after a bit he walked in and while a little awkward, we said our hello’s and you look nice’s and got to a table. Whew. Breath. We ordered drinks (i thought keep these babies coming kid and i’ll slip you another tip!THOUGHT IT but didn’t say it and didn’t drink a whole lot because well, hello! FIRST DATE) and started the talking. It was fine. Conversation was wide and random and I’m good like that, skipping and floating from one subject to the next without much connection.
You’re asking yourselves…what’s the deal? Where’s the catch? If she’s posting about it there’s gotta be something…yep. You know me well.
It was just weird. All around funkytown weird.
He ordered for me. We got around to ordering dinner after a few appetizers (oysters of the half shell which I did two of for the first time because I didn’t want to act all girly and felt the need to be open and adventerous. Kids…like swollowing a big ball of snot with some horseradish and cocktail sauce on it. Never. Again.) He asked what looked good and while I was in my head thinking a taxi, I said a few options I was considering and then the waiter came over and he ordered for me. all the things I said. We never talked about ordering different things then sharing them. Nope. And I had already decided to go a different way with the food….whatever. Ok. Now we have all this food (which was all bad by the way. the restaraunt was just bad) and somehow he slips into conversation about his second gastric bypass surgery??!?!?!?! I didn’t even touch that one. Just let er go on by.
Now earlier in the evening we’ve discussed, as much as we can about the fact that he died.
Not a typo.
Bad car wreck, he and a tree and he broke about a million bones in his face and had all but two ribs broken and was in a coma for 21 days and had to re-learn stuff and doesn’t remember much of anything and . . . . WHEW. Ok. His conversation is a little loopy, like he doesn’t track very well and goes in circles a lot, but I can handle something like that. I’m not so self centered and vain. Plus, I do that on a really good day!
So we’ve covered the dying and coming back to life and made mention of the second gastric bypass and he ordered for me…then he says he tells his mother EVERYTHING. Every. Single. Thing. They have had extensive conversations about me already. She wanted to know did I like OU? Was I coming to the brother’s wedding in August? All kinds of stuff.
wedding in august…i kind of said I’d go with him on the night I first met him after about 4 big beers and an irish car bomb.
It’s like she’s already cross stitching my Christmas stocking for the mantle.
There were some pointed questions from him such as “just how old are you” phrased exactly like that. and the look on his face when I had to mention that I’d been married before…these are facts that I cannot and would not change about myself. It is what it is. But there was a little judgement there. And he’s in my age bracket, so I don’t know what that was about.
We decided to leave and go meet his brother and soon to be sister in law for a drink. Now, I had to do all of the planning and if any of you know me, you know it’s like rubbing a cat the wrong way. But I give him the benefit of the doubt, he doesn’t live here and oh yeah, he died. So we finally decide on Shady Pines and meet there. Mandrea and Seige were sitting at the bar and that was serendipitous so it was good to have someone on my team. About half way thru the first beer he announces that it’s his birthday. He didn’t want to say anything and look like an asshole. his words. Sigh.
SHOTS!!! WE NEED SHOTS!!!
The brother and sisinlaw were fun. . . but the brother, every chance he got to meet my eyes, said Thank You. Once he was coming back from the bathroom and grabbed my sholder and said, “Thank you. No. Really. You have no idea. Thank you. so much.” I thought he was referring to his birthday and kind of blew it off because it was getting a little strange (relative at this point) and he said “you have no idea. since the accident. . . just . . . thank you” I just looked at him and said, “hey, don’t be an asshole. This isn’t a pity date. I am here simply because I was asked to be here. I realize it must have been really hard for you and the rest of your family, but don’t make me out to be the girl on a date with the guy who died. have a drink and breathe in and out for awhile.”
Then the sis in law, who was quite charming actually, starts quizzing me about do I want to get married, do I want children…with all the hope and fervor in her eyes of a girl about to be married in two months. These are questions that my friends know the answers to. And I guess I can’t be too hoity toity because I do post it regularly on the freakin INTERNET. But she was planning my wedding too, I’m not kidding.
Now, it was getting to be around midnight and for me it was a school night and I wanted OUT of this date. One tidbit I haven’t shared is that he had a DUI this winter and had a brethalizer in his car so after a drink it wouldn’t start. I drove us to Shady Pines and his brother was going to take him home. FINE. But the brother started talking like we were going to go off together and I was going to take him home and FUCK AROUND. I was outta there. Said our good byes, gave a little hug to everyone and gone baby gone. Home.
The next morning before 8 a.m. he called me. He’d already had a phone call from his mother and from his father. He said he had a hangover. I didn’t think we drank that much. I know I didn’t. He told his father that I was more of a pro at drinking, that I could drink him under the table. His dad said, Does she drink Canadian Mist? HUH??? his response? She’ll probably drink anything.
Kids…I have cocktails, and possibly more than any of you on any given random day. But I’m not a drunk. Nor am I that girl who get’s shitfaced drunk on A FIRST DATE. So all of this is quite frankly, pissing me off. Plus, it’s BEFORE EIGHT IN THE MORNING> GO AWAY.
It was a fine time. I put myself out there. I met some new people. I’m not going on another date with him. But am still open to dating. This whole thing was just WEIRD. and NOT quirky and endearing weird. just fucking weird.
That’s the end of my date story. I have more to tell but will post the rest of the weekend update later. I stil don’t have a chair in the office and sitting on the floor is putting my foot to sleep.