On A Date, I Am A Class Act...Always

So I had the date on Friday, which, going into, I was very nervous about. It was with a guy I briefly dated about a year ago. I blew him off at the time - a case of possible right guy, definitely wrong time. As in, my heart was foolishly somewhere else. But now I am in such a better place. So I contacted him a few weeks ago and after a couple emails, I suggested meeting for a drink. Surprisingly, he agreed.

We were meeting after work - at a bar I had never been to nor heard of. Instead of believing that a guy maybe did want to see me - and maybe even happily - I instead went through all these revenge-seeking scenarios he was going to seek against me. Like...Does this bar really exist? I have never heard of it. Is he sending me on a wild goose chase? Or will he throw a drink over my head? So then do I take my new sizzling leather jacket off before I sit down? He can take my dignity but not ruin my wardrobe. Maybe he will just do the tried and true and stand me up? Maybe he plans on berating me - and all his friends will be in attendance? Everyone will laugh at me. Maybe I will show up naked, forgetting to put on my clothes. Maybe I will have to stand on the bar and recite the Declaration of Independence or sing a Celine Dion song a capella. Whoops...you see, I got creative with these scenarios and they were taking a turn into Scary Things Than Could Happen and my Fear of Public Speaking. So, I got back on track and decided to focus on the outfit - carefully chosen. But by the time Friday 6:00 rolled around my stomach was in a tangled knot of nerves.

I cabbed over and was anxiously propped on the bar stool by 6:15. So the bar did exist! And it couldn't be more perfect. Then he came sauntering out from the back. He couldn't be more relaxed and this made me more relaxed. We jumped right into conversation and didn't stop talking or drinking all night. So I escaped having a drink poured over my head! Golly, I was having a fine time so bartender pour me another Belvedere Soda and another and another and another and another. Oops...hiccup...giggle...giggle...time to stop, time to go home. Yes, it was time to call it a night and he kindly offered to drive me home.

The poor dear. Because somewhere between drink #1 and drink #60, I took a nosedrive into the Outer Limits of Coherence - where wacky hijinks can be had. Here is where the fun really begins.

Things I did on the date I was trying to impress:

Had him pull over so I could throw up on the side of the road. Wait! I'm prone to motion sickness. I throw up on airplanes with the faintest bit of turbulence. I am not drunk. But then again, I started to think that maybe I was. Yep, I think I am. Pull over!

Ran right out of the car, never said "bye" or "thanks" or "let's do this again". Nope, just split. I ran right up to my apartment and laid down on my kitchen floor because nothing says drunk like that.

Then the phone rings...it is him! Downstairs, he wants to come up. I want him to come up! But for the life of me, I can not remember how to buzz him up. I am pushing "pound"..."nine"...is it "three"...don't know how I finally got the door to buzz open, but he made it. Heellllooooiieee...(and there may have been two or three of him).

And so, what is the one thing you should probably never ask a guy on a date? If he would like to lay on the kitchen floor with you? Yes. That would be it. You know what I did? I asked him if he would lay on the kitchen floor with me. Beauty. What would his answer be? "Well, no, but I will lay on the living room floor with you." It's got carpet! Good idea...I like smart men! Poor guy, he was just obliging me. So I think in the middle of making out there, I excused myself to throw up again. I know what is happening here - I had no food. In hindsight, he should have fed me. Purrr...(my behavior is kind of kitty-like tonight).

And at the end of the night, when he probably decided he had enough of my drunk ass, I capped off his good night kiss with a roll...of the lint brush. The poor dear was covered in cat hair. So I rolled him.

In the morning, I woke up with a skinned knee, a bruise on my hip bone, and only one eye washed of make up. And I'm sure my hair was all over the place. I chuckled to myself thinking lucky for him he only got to see last night's act.

He has called and we laughed about it. So I don't think I scared him away. Besides, I really do not think I could be with a guy who couldn't appreciate the wackiness that will sometimes follow me and a few cocktails.

Although, I regret not being able to remember the kiss. I want a replay. And eventually I'd like to be able to ask him into my bed and not my kitchen floor.