Tag: drinking

And then the goldfish returned…

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I was just starting my Sunday Funday when I got a text from him. “You’re the worst,” is all it said. Of course I assumed he was expressing his disdain for me. How was I supposed to know he was stating the name of a television show?! In case you forgot or didn’t read my previous posts about this guy, we had a couple weeks this summer of intense dating before he dumped me after I fell asleep drunk on my toilet. I was planning on dumping him because he got on my nerves so badly but he beat me to it. So disappointing. He was surprised that I even responded to the seemingly rude text he sent me but then asked if I wanted to grab a drink with him sometime. Of course I said no and we continued exchanging messages for over two hours. He was mostly apologetic and tried to remind me of our “crazy chemistry” while I was a typical bitch, reminding him of how he dumped me and giving him all the reasons I hate him. It ended there.

Until I got bored about 4 days later…

I was watching Girlfriend’s Guide to Divorce on Netflix and doing a coding course online. My brain started to hurt so I took a Facebook and text break. I basically told him, “Drinks. tomorrow. 7:30. J9 Wine Bar. Be there.” I left out the, “Or else” but I think it was clear that it was implied. Why was I doing this when I was going to dump him anyway earlier in the summer? I ask myself why I do most things on a daily basis. I rarely have answers to this question. This time I think I was just bored. I’m like a little kid who kicks a hornet nest even though she knows it’s potentially dangerous. She just wants some excitement and to see what would happen.

I was actually really looking forward to seeing him again and I was dying for a good Manhattan. This place had them. I was expecting our usual incessant teasing of one another and then I assumed he’d start to really get on my nerves and my eyeballs would start hurting from rolling them back in my head so often and I’d cuss him out again before taking a Lyft home.

I was wrong. He was calm and not nearly as irritating as usual. The bartender came over and said it was so good to see me again and asked if I wanted my usual Manhattan up. I saw the shock and confusion on his face and admitted that I’ve taken three other dates to this place after he introduced it to me early in the summer and befriended the owner and bartender. He also had taken dates there after he dumped me but he’s not nearly as fun and personable as I am so the staff doesn’t recognize him. We exchanged stories of our dates at J9 and then headed to a dive across the street to play Pop-a-Shot. Admittedly, I am fucking awful at sports. I was a dancer and a cheerleader. Sports that involve balls are not my thing. I averaged about 10 baskets per round in this game and was wildly impressed with myself. He was pretty good but then some guys came over and wanted to play too. They might as well have been professional basketball players. They never missed.

We both decided we had embarrassed ourselves enough so we went to the back bar to watch the band. He was unusually affectionate, gently touching my hair and my neck. I enjoyed it for a second and then I got freaked the fuck out. It was bed time anyway so we left. Before going to sleep though we texted and sort of made plans to hang out again the next week just for a movie and shitty pizza at my place.

I had no idea what I was doing. My initial plan was to see him for a couple drinks, we’d fight and I’d toss a drink in his face like they do in old movies and we’d never see each other again after I stormed out angrily and he stood there, dripping in whisky and in shock. Nothing ever goes as planned in my life though. I change my path abruptly just to shock myself I think. Always looking for the next adventure. I know ahead of time that I’m just going to leave him anyway but I might as well have some fun stories in the meantime.

Bobcat Returns

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If you told me I’d see this guy again after he kicked me out of his hotel room, I’d tell you you’re out of your mind. For some reason we continued texting each other for the next month almost every single day. I finally agreed to hang out with him again with the promise that he wouldn’t do anything stupid to fuck it up. We decided to meet for dinner the next Friday. He made reservations for 10pm. I work Saturday mornings and told him it wouldn’t work. He fucked it up. We tried again later and met up at a rooftop before heading to a street festival. I warned the hostesses when I walked in that I might storm out in a few minutes if he did something to piss me off. Luckily, that didn’t happen. We actually had a lot of fun.

After a drink or two, he asked me about my blog, which he had done before via text and I thought it was odd. I asked why he was so interested in my blog and he laughed for a second and then told me that he reads it. He then explained to me that when I posted something on Snapchat about it, he charged a separate phone so he could replay the snap, take a picture of it, look up the blog online, start a new email account and become a follower. That’s some next level sneaky, stalker ass shit and I thought it was awesome. I like this creep. If he read all the shit I posted about him and still wants to talk to me and hang out, there is probably something wrong with him but I don’t even care. There are lots of things wrong with him but that’s what makes him interesting. He also has an idea for a YouTube channel so I can be like Jenna Marbles or Nicole Arbour. He has a great plan for a TV show called Ghost Busters where I crash dates of people who have ghosted other people and call them out on it. Brilliant. Weird but brilliant. His pitch to me went like this:

When you get ghosted, who you gonna call? Erin and her crackpot team of degenerates have women who get ghosted contact you. You (and me, if you want my PI help), track down the guy, preferably when he’s on a date with the next girl he swiped right with, and we confront him and ask why he ghosted her!

We still have some kinks to work out but I’m into it.

We left the rooftop and I reassured the hostesses that he didn’t totally suck before we hopped in a cab to head to the fest. We drank some beers and took an Adderall while listening to music. He dared me to get a picture with some eccentric older gentleman. Since I can’t say no to a dare, I started dancing with this guy and asked if we could take a picture together. He tells me he’s Jimmy Buffett and I almost believed him. It turns out, his name is Rick and he has a large collection of hats that are all from Miami. Interesting. The Bobcat and I hung out near him while listening to 16 Candles for a while.

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When the festival was over, we headed over to Concrete Cowboy for another drink. It was there that The Bobcat told me he had molly. The last time I did molly, I was in college. This was my summer of ‘YES’ though so I was down. I’ve said yes to everything since I left my ex, besides offers from friends to break his legs or have him killed. Always say no to violence and say ‘hell motherfucking yeah’ to everything else.

We headed downstairs to Spybar and took over a table in the back corner that was occupied by a very intoxicated man named Tony who could barely sit up. He ended up sleeping in the corner while we hung out. After becoming friends with the bartenders, we did a couple shots. This is where my memories are all a blur. I don’t know how much time went by. I don’t know what I said or who I was talking to. At one point I was calling Bobcat and my friend who owns the club while they were standing right in front of me. I knew when I was talking I wasn’t making any sense and that just made me laugh. Finally we decided to get out of there. Probably for the best since by the end of the night, I had the bartenders hating me.

In our Uber back to his place, the driver offered us beers which he was charging $5 for. Of course we bought them. When we got back, we apparently made out in his kitchen. I also apparently answered my phone at 5:30am and talked to my friend for a few minutes while she stood in the alley behind my house requesting that I bring her alley wine. I explained to her that I was at a gentleman caller’s house and was unable to deliver. Finally I got into his bed and immediately, when I fell into it, became one with it and started to pass out. Despite his attempt to be romantic with wine and cocaine, I pushed him away and passed out.

I woke up hours later, spread out like a starfish in his bed and was so confused. I went into his living room and found him and his dogs hanging out on the couch. I went with my typical M.O. and bolted right away. I felt like death and needed a shower. Throughout the day he helped me piece our night together because his memory of the night was far less foggy than mine.

I still talk to him everyday whether it’s geeky shit about trading cryptocurrency or talking about our pending divorces. For some reason I tell this guy more than I tell my closest friends. Maybe it’s because he seems more interested in the random garbage I have to say than my friends do. I texted him WHILE getting my IUD put in. He’s completely honest which is refreshing and tells the truth brutally with no sugar-coating. Not a lot of people are like that but I am that way too so it’s refreshing. Have I forgiven him for kicking me out of the hotel room that night? Yeah, but I’m not forgetting about it. That shit was awful and hilarious and I’ll bring it up every chance I get it.

People oftentimes come into your life for a reason. You don’t know what the reason is right away but you learn eventually. Why do I willingly spend time with someone who admits to cheating on his soon-to-be ex-wife repeatedly? Why does he hang out with me still, knowing that my soon-to-be ex-husband is dangerous and puts every woman he’s met in the hospital? My sister would tell me it’s because I can’t stay away from risky situations. Maybe she’s right. Life without risks seems really boring though. We’ve all got baggage and we have demons to battle. I have no idea why the Bobcat is still around but we’ll all find out eventually. The reason better not be to teach me lessons about going to random men’s hotel rooms after just meeting them.

 

 

The Underemployed One

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It’s Sunday morning and I’m doing the 30-something’s Walk-of-Shame from my Saturday night guy’s place, which is Ubering home, hung over, while texting my friends about the previous night. That’s when I get a Bumble message from a guy asking if I was interested in getting some brunch. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. The answer is always YES to brunch. We agree to meet at a brunch place my friend manages, as I’ve repeatedly promised to come check her new spot out and fail every time. I raced home to take care of the dogs and get cleaned up. When I’m almost there he texts to let me know there is an hour wait so he’s at the restaurant next door having a drink. It’s 11am. He’s drinking. We’re off to a good start.

I get there with my perfectly polished ponytail, giant sunglasses and pale yellow sundress that my friend Nikki just gave me, attempting my best (somewhat hung over, ‘I hope I don’t still smell like sex’) Audrey Hepburn look. I recognize him immediately from checking out his photos, even though it was clear his photos were quite old and he was a bit heftier than he was when they were taken. We hug and I order champagne; my drink for summer 2017. Hey, I’m celebrating being alive this summer! We get down to chatting and I notice he’s wearing very expensive, trendy, yet classic clothing but his eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. His shirt was unbuttoned a bit too far and his hair was wild. I asked how his night was and he told me he went to Cuvee, an upscale nightclub, the night before with friends. Despite having delayed responses to any of my questions, he responded and asked questions as well so I wasn’t leading the entire conversation. Something still seemed off about him but I guessed it was just his hang over.

On his profile he said he was a beverage director at a nice hotel. I asked him how he liked that job and he tells me he was fired from that place a year ago. Why the fuck does it still say it on your profile then, guy!? So I asked what he does now and why he was fired. He goes on to say he was fired for being “kind of an asshole and a drug addict”. LOVELY! He said he talked down to his staff and he didn’t realize other people didn’t use cocaine the same way he did. He basically did it all day and all night, in front of his coworkers and bosses, and was shocked that it was an issue when they brought it up to him and dismissed him from his role in the company. Now he claims to be underemployed, as he works as a bartender two nights a week at two different bars. This cocaine habit now explains his delayed responses and blood-shot eyes. This dude is still awake from partying last night!

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I knew I wasn’t attracted to him but we were here already and I was hungry. After almost an hour, I asked if he wanted to check on our table status next door at my friend’s brunch restaurant. He then tells me he never put our names in so we had just been sitting around the whole time waiting for nothing. This guy needs an adult. I run over, climb over 30 hungry people who are sitting around, waiting for their names to be called. I pull the dick move of name-dropping at the host stand and hug my friend Sarah after the hostesses get her attention. She was running around like a mad woman but told me there are seats that will be available at the bar. I run over to tell the underemployed guy to drag him over before he orders another cocktail.

When I came back and told him, he then lets me know that he has no cards and no cash so if I could cover everything today, he could Venmo me or get me next time. I’m getting fucking PLAYED right now!! This broke-ass scammer got me! I ask why he wanted to invite me to brunch if he has no money but he assures me he has some in the bank, he just left his debit card at the nightclub last night. You’re a 30-something year old man who only has one card to his name and you leave it somewhere and invite a girl out?? What’s WRONG with you? Where did you go wrong in life? Shit, where did I go wrong in life if these are the guys I’m meeting!? I pay and we go next door, order food and a drink and continue on this “date”. I talked to my friend and the bartender now more than I talked to this guy. He picked at a salad and slowly sipped a bloody Mary while I crushed some eggs and veggies and two champagne cocktails.

We decide it’s time to go since I hate him and he has to actually go to one of his jobs soon. My friend kindly discounts half of our bill, I pay again and then decide to run to the restroom before we walk out. Before I go, he tells me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. I fear something bad will happen but I look around and realize we are elbow to elbow with people and there are hundreds of people there. What’s the worst he could do? I did as he asked and when I opened my eyes I saw a big bag of white powder in my palm. I gasped and clenched my fist, shoving the bag back in his hand. “What?”, he said, “Do a couple bumps in the bathroom.” Then he winked. Barf. It is 12:30pm on a Sunday, sir! And we are dining at a fine, family restaurant, where my friend is the manager! What’s wrong with you?

We leave and, unfortunately, have to walk the same direction to get to our destinations. While we walk, he repeatedly pulls this bag out to do bumps off of his key. Once he did it in front of a church. Once he did it in front of a playground, as a mother pushing a double-wide stroller walked by. We’re a block away from his job when he ducks into an alley and asks me to wait a minute. I glance over after a few seconds to catch him pissing behind a dumpster, cocaine in-hand. He zips up and we continue this romantic stroll to his job, where he leans toward me, open-mouthed, tongue-first. I put both arms between us, on his chest and push away. “K, this was fun! Talk to you later!”, I blurted out. I’m a fucking liar. Once again he tells me, “I’ll Venmo you!” and I briskly walked on. No look of longing as I left. No eye contact at all actually. I stared at the ground and moved my legs as fast as a girl can in wedge sandals. I’ll never forget you, Venmo guy.

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Jesus, take the wheel…

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Surprisingly, I was dateless on a Thursday night, so I went to my neighborhood bar for a drink after work. It was charity night with guest bartenders which sounds great but I usually dread it because I prefer my dive bar to be empty besides a handful of my closest alcoholic friends who are also regulars. I spotted two of them this night and plopped my ass right beside them. Bartender Doug slid my drink down before I even got settled and the guys and I started talking. Babes with Blades Theater Company was throwing the event for the night and had temporary tattoos for us to fuck around with. We made friends with Annie who was guest bartending and she and I talked about an old dive called the Oasis in Rogers Park and the badass woman named GiGi who has worked there for decades. One drink turns to two drinks and a shot and the boys and I chat back and forth about online dating while encouraging Annie to drink more Malort. We notice our beloved dive bar now is lacking their gorgeous 100 bottle Malort shrine and they’ve replaced it with a 20 bottle mystery shot shelf. (Not quite as impressive, Pat! Still cool though.) 20170526_235647167_iOS.jpg

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Vik asks us which bottle appeals to us most based on appearance and number. All of the bottles are covered in brown paper bags and numbered 1-20. Immediately I compare it to online dating. I tell them it’s similar to all of the dating apps because you have to just pick a random and hope for the best. You’re going in blind really. All you know is you’re not picking the short, fat bottle because it looks dangerous, just like you’re not picking the short, fat guy because EW. We come up with our own ideas for dating apps that we think would be better than Tinder and Bumble and all the others. “Jesus Take the Wheel” was the name Vik gave to our app idea that you’re not allowed to swipe on at all. It’s guided and directed by your friends and family only. We plan to market that one in the Bible Belt first, of course. I’m not expecting that one to do as well in Chicago to start.

Then, Vik drops some life-changing truth on us:

Women are the gate-keepers to sex. Men are the gate-keepers to commitment.

This explains why he swipes right on everyone and waits to see which fish bite. The more chances of getting laid, the better! But he’s right, unless GHB is involved. (Sorry. Not funny. True though!) Women decide who they want to have a second date with usually or who they want to go on a date with in the first place. At least I do. When I left my husband I lined up dates every night. Mostly because I knew I had no idea what I was doing on dates. I’ve been in non-stop relationships since I was 24 pretty much. As soon as I’d lose a guy, another would steal me and keep me a while before he did something awful and we split up. I needed to practice and get good at this dating thing again. Out of all the dates I’ve been on the past few months, few have ended in a second date and, obviously, fewer have ended in sex. I AM the gate-keeper!!! (Of sex, at least.) Most of the guys I had dates with wanted to see me again which means they had a strong interest in penetration as well. Duh. I controlled the outcome.

Men are the controllers of commitment and relationships though. Once you’ve dated for a while and you’re in a sexual relationship with someone, it means (usually) that the woman has decided she likes you enough to have a relationship. What it means to guys is, “Fuck, yeah! I bang this chick!” And he probably bangs a few others as well. Guys have the ball on this one though. They decide if it’s a green light or red on being committed most of the time. I’m currently waiting for the light to change with the guy I’m dating. It’s been two months. I’m stuck at yellow. I’m impatient though and I want to know where this is going, like yesterday!

In the meantime, I’ll get the Jesus Take the Wheel app going and pray to Malort that my friends and family can choose my match better than I can if this gate-keeper of commitment gives me the red light.

The Marathon Date

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I met this guy after I did hair for a wedding on a Sunday. As I was leaving the job I got a message from him on Tinder or Bumble, asking if I wanted to meet and grab lunch. Yes, indeed, I did. I was hungry enough to eat a cow and that’s saying a lot coming from a vegetarian. We met at a taco place in Lincoln Park, had food and margaritas and laughed way too much and far too loudly. (Seriously, I think everyone hated us.) Usually that’s where I end first dates. Gotta leave ’em wanting more. Also, I don’t need them to see how much I can drink in a day. Two drinks with them. MAX.

Not today though! Despite the fact that I thought he resembled a goldfish, he was fun and I had nothing better to do with the rest of my Sunday than continue hanging out. That day we went to 8 different bars, played Pac-Man, Skee-ball, pool and trivia. He met several of my friends and they actually seemed to like him! He begged my friend and her husband to spill some dirt on me or tell an embarrassing story. Unfortunately for him, my friends are fucking loyal. Also, there’s nothing for them to tell. I already told him about the one time I peed my pants in high school. And the other time I peed my pants in high school…

The day went well enough but I was getting tired and fucking hammered. My friends dropped us off near my place and then I blinked and when I opened my eyes the goldfish look-alike was sweating profusely while humping me. He then thought it was a good idea to talk dirty to me during the sweatiest sex of my life. I’ve never had sex with someone before and gotten up soaked from head to toe in their sweat. My hair was even dripping wet! Also, gentlemen, please don’t ever talk about your “big dick” or my “tight, little pussy” while you’re humping me. It’s fucking gross, weird and it ruins everything!

I couldn’t take it anymore. The sweat, the “you like it like that, baby!?”, his weird fish face… I pushed his big, slimy body away and swam through his sweat to the other side of the bed. He asked me if I had any food. I pretended to look in my fridge for something he could eat, knowing I only had hard-boiled eggs, celery, carrots and yogurt, which are not foods that a heavy-breathing, drunk man wants. I glanced in my cupboard and avoided offering him my almonds. “Hmmm, nope. I forgot to go grocery shopping.” I crawled back into the dry spot in my bed and he got dressed, on a mission for pizza and ice cream. He waits briefly for me to see him out and say goodbye while I waved, said “Lock the bottom lock before you go!”.

 

No pizza

The Bobcat

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I matched with a guy on Tinder and actually reached out and sent him a message. I did this only because I thought I was on Bumble and had to send the first message. I like to get the weird out of people right away. I want them to open up and spill everything to me and I’m good at getting them to do that. Too good at it. People often tell me things that I never wanted to know because for some reason they can smell the “Don’t Give a Fuck” on me. I’m rarely shocked by anything because I’ve seen and heard it all.

My first message just was asking what kind of trouble he got into over the weekend. He wouldn’t tell me at first but with some prodding he finally admitted that the night before he had a threesome and did cocaine all night long. Perfect. Now we’re getting somewhere. While this might be a huge red flag for most girls and they go running in the opposite direction, I need to know more. I need to meet this guy.

Throughout the rest of the day we end up realizing we graduated from the same high school 5 years apart. (Go Bobcats!) We talk about what we like and dislike in a potential partner and what kinds of hobbies we have outside of sex and drugs and drinking. He asked me to tell him about a bad date so I told him about a guy who made me pay for brunch after he was the one who invited me out!  This guy tells me I’ll never have to bring my purse when I hang out with him because he’s some kind of baller apparently and he says I’ll never have a story to write about him in my blog. I highly doubted that. Look who was right! He asked me to go on a date the next night. I’m in.

We meet at Celeste because he knows the owners apparently. He must not know them too well or they may have told him that they are closed on Mondays. We cab it over to London House instead. We want a rooftop! My fellow Bobcat and I drink, and drink and talk and laugh and he keeps giving me a hefty bag of blow every time I leave to use the bathroom. I like him! I take him to my secret spot on the rooftop. Don’t ask where it is, I’ll never tell. We sit there, looking at our gorgeous city that I fall more in love with almost every single day. I show him the spot where I got married and told him all about the marriage and pending divorce. He’s not bothered by it. We take pictures of the skyline and river and each other. It was a perfect night if you’re into any of these things. Unfortunately now the rooftop is closing so we have to leave.

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It’s now that I realize I lost my vaporizer. What’s a girl to do!? Cocaine and alcohol in my system and no nicotine!? I’ll die! We hop in a cab and I get out at 7-11 to buy a crappy e-cig so I don’t go buy a pack of cigarettes instead. We head over to one last spot in River North for another drink or two before calling it a night. Everything is going well until I laugh so hard and lean forward, catching a glimpse of a shiny bald head and immediately my heart stops beating, my body gets as hot as lava and my eyes almost pop out of my head. “We have to leave right this second. My ex husband is here and he’s a very dangerous person. Pay the tab and let’s go out the emergency exit.” Without skipping a beat, this guy does exactly that but first asks the bartender if an alarm will sound if we go out the backdoor. She has no idea so I tell them both that we’re all about to find out!!

SUCCESS! We escaped without being murdered by my ex and no alarms went off! Woo! The Bobcat put me in an Uber and paid for me to get home and checked on me to make sure I was safe when I got there. Despite the Monday night drug use, I think I found a winner! It doesn’t hurt that he has a bad ass condo and two cute dogs.