My mother is always telling me to be less picky and to give guys a chance that I'm not immediately attracted to because "you never know." What a crock of shit. This is what happens when you do that:
About a month ago my sister and I were having drinks at one of our favourite restaurants. We sat at the bar so we could flirt with the hot bartenders as per ushe, and about 3 cocktails in a very average and boring guy dressed in a business suit sat next to my sister. Throughout the evening he told us he was a very busy lawyer and lived in the city among other things. While my sister went to the washroom, he took it upon himself to ask me out for drinks sometime. Here was my big chance to volunteer my valuable time for a good cause: Very Unexciting Lawyers/Vagabonds Anonymous, or VULVA. I agreed that we could grab a drink sometime. Whoopdie-frickin'-do. Over the next 2 weeks Vulva texted me several times and seemed rather eager to meet. I was flattered and thought maybe there was something to this VULVA thing. As I get older I find that my mother is almost always right. Perhaps Vulva and I would fall in love and have kids and I would be a happily married mother living in a rich neighbourhood with all our lawyer money. But, this is me and of course that didn't happen.
First of all he wanted to meet on a night that my favourite sports team was playing a huge playoff game. He suggested we go watch the game somewhere. Was he fucking kidding me? I don't even make plans to hang out for 3 hours with people I LIKE, let alone the VULVA spokesmodel that I'd said a total of 20 words to. I agreed anyways so I could get the date over with and enjoy the rest of my weekend. I got to the lounge first. When he showed up a few minutes later, he was in runners. Wow. Impressive. He said "hi" inexpressively and sat down. Hmm. Now I don't expect much, but after 2 weeks of persuing me and making me feel like a gift from Allah, I was expecting maybe a hug, a pat on the back, a high-five even, but nothing. So he awkwardly sits down and orders a beer. Now I may not have chemistry with every guy I agree to go on a date with, but one thing I can always guarantee is that we have a fun time together. But not Vulva. Holy fuck this guy was boring. I had to carry the entire conversation and after an hour I finally gave up. I didn't give a shit and wasn't about to waste any more energy on this dud. He spent more time staring at my rack than my face. I'm sure this may happen a lot, I have a great rack, but please, don't let me catch you for fuck's sake. The way this guy ogled at me you would have thought he had just been released on probation. I tried to block it out of my head by downing copious amounts of vodka.
We ordered dinner and I ate my entire steak and all the side dishes, and Vulva had about 6 bites of his food and asked the server to wrap the rest in a doggie bag. I don't trust a man that doesn't eat. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever met one before. My favourite part of the date was when he finally did decide to speak after 3 Stella Lights. He told me that his best friend was a high school teacher, and he didn't know how he managed those kids. I agreed "Ya, kids are nuts these days with their attitudes, sex, and drugs...yikes"...but he didn't mean that. He corrected me..."Oh, no I mean the way the young girls dress these days you could really get into a lot of trouble." Now I was convinced I was sitting with a pedophile. The second time he decided to speak he told me that he's "not actually a lawyer"...he's a "law student." Now I'm not one to judge, and if he just said that in the first place I wouldn't have cared, but to bring me there under false pretenses was unacceptable. An average boring lawyer? Maybe. An average boring student? No thanks.Throughout the night he asked me several times if he was "creeping me out." If you have to ask, the answer is yes.
I'd had about 5 vodkas and 2 glasses of wine, and Vulva had about 4 beers. The playoff game was coming to a close, thank fucking God. Vulva paid the bill and asked me if I wanted to go to his place for a drink. I was so incredibly shocked that someone could be stupid enough to perceive the notion that anyone would want to prolong this disaster, that I momentarily lost all sense of reality blurted out "sure." WHAT...THE...FUCK...did I just DO??? I immediately started telling him I was pretty tired and I thought we should just have one more drink somewhere close by, but he insisted. I told him okay, but warned him that I was leaving after one drink because I was really tired, (aka my friends were around the corner and I was ready to actually go have a good time, fake-lawyer-free). He agreed and off we went. The entire walk there I was trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of it. Oh well, one drink won't kill me. Unless he is a sex-crazed jailbird and is willing to murder me just to get a peek at the goods. Fuck.
We get there and he immediately asks if he can have "just one kiss." Was this guy for fucking realsies? On what planet does cringing and "I'm tired" mean I'm into you? Fuck. This was all my fault. I should have never agreed to go to this potential house of horrors. Luckily, after I turned him down for a vial kiss, he told me he had heartburn and excused himself. He proceeded to the bathroom where I heard him vomit for the next 5 minutes thanks to the paper-thin structure of his ancient apartment complex. Those 4 beers must have really put this idiot over the edge. I've never been so excited to hear someone vomit. This of course set the scene for my prompt exit. I had my shoes on as he came out of the bathroom, his eyes all red and bloodshot..whew, ya that Stella Light will really hit ya hard, you really gotta be careful there. Fucking lightweight. Anyhoo, shoes on, off I scurried into the sunset, thanking Allah for not allowing me to be murdered by Vulva, who had, over the past 4 hours gone from "fine" to "incredibly creepy."
I felt filthy. I've never felt so filthy without having done a single thing. I needed a scalding hot shower and a body brush stat. So I ran home and did just that...after getting drunk with my friends of course.
Fuck was my mom ever wrong. From now on I'm trusting my gut and only giving hotties a chance.
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