It’s raining men, with the chance of an asshole

When it rains it pours, and lately I’ve had so many choices that it’s enough to make a slut’s pussy spin.  But before we get to that part…

Yesterday started out as a normal Saturday at work.  Lots of the customers that came in were there on weekend passes from the loony bin.  A few were my regular lurkers that come in and try to get my phone number.  One of the lurkers is actually the guy who I met at the car wash back in October.  He came in to the store one day and recognized me and we started talking.  He’s a really nice and good-looking guy, and he’s always very polite and respectful.  So I had given him my number again, but I hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him on the phone.  We only exchanged a few texts.  Yesterday while he was there he told me that he was heading to Louisiana to visit his sister and brother-in-law for the weekend.  That meant nothing to me at the time, so I just told him to have a safe trip and went back to helping out the hordes of clueless customers.

bubbaThe rest was nice little old ladies and big guys nicknamed “Bubba” who reeked of B.O. and alcohol, and were looking at TV antennas to take home and put up on their roofs.  Hopefully none of them were injured on the job later that afternoon.  (PSA: Boys & Girls, don’t drink and install.  Pay a professional to do that for you.)  We also had one couple who came in and let their kid run rampant through the store.  He finally found a toy and sat on the floor playing with it.  Later I found a wet spot where he had pissed on the carpet.  Kids are as bad as dogs.  That’s how work went on Saturday.  Loads of fun.

I already had plans to leave work and go straight to meet a guy for coffee.  He’s 35, twice divorced, one kid, not very attractive, lives an hour and a half away, and says he’s a “DJ.”  He sent me a message on Zoosk.  (BTW Zoosk sucks worse than Plenty of Fish.  Don’t bother with it.)  I tried to get him to meet me half way, but he was full of excuses so I gave up and said I’d come to him.  It was a beautiful day and I just had a new radio installed in my car Friday, so I was itching to try it out, and to get out of Podunk for a while.  No big deal.

I confess that I had a bad feeling about this guy before I even left work, but, ever the optimist, I decided to give it a chance anyway.  Just in case though, I called my car wash guy and told him that I too was headed to LA.  We decided to meet later that evening.  So if my Zoosk boy turned out to be the asshole that I thought he might be, I wouldn’t have wasted an entire evening and tank of gas.

I had told him what time I’d be getting off work and leaving so he knew when to expect me.  When I was about an hour away from my destination I sent him a text tell him how far away I was.  He didn’t reply.  I kept going and then when I was about a half hour away I sent him another text asking where the Starbucks was located.  I was supposed to meet him there.  Still, no reply.  I started getting pissed off and sent him another text a few minutes later asking if we were still meeting.  Nothing.  At that point I was mad as hell, but figured I’d give it one last try and I called his cell.  It rang a few times and then went to his voicemail.  It seemed pointless to leave a message.  I probably would have just sounded like a crazy pissed off bitch if I had.

I did a search on my phone for the Starbucks in that town and tried finding it.  If found, that cup of coffee was going to be to go.  After another half hour of driving in circles I still couldn’t find it, decided to forget it, and just head on to my next destination.  Fifteen minutes later I got a text from Zoosk boy.  “Oh my god babe.  I thought maybe you’d call to tell me you were on your way.  Are you still in town?”  After informing him that I had sent him six texts and called once, he semi-apologized and said his phone never rang.  Whatever.  I was still pissed off.

After much deliberation and lack of desire to drive another hour at that moment I chose to give him one last chance.  He called me and apologized some more and gave me his address.  I’m guessing he was just too lazy to get dressed and meet me at Starbucks.  As soon as I got to his townhouse and walked in the front door he tried to hug me.  I gave him one of those half-assed sideways hugs.  Physical affection was not on my mind at that point.  Wine was on my mind.  Red wine.

For an unattractive straight man, he sure had a lot of wine and a very clean townhouse.  He also had an annoying fluffy little pekishit dog…or something like that.  It was some weird mix.  It did cross my mind that he could be a closeted gay man.  Like way back in the closet.  It wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve dated a man who turned out to be on the down-low.  Anyway…

So he got me a glass (plastic) of wine, and we sat down on the couch.  Well, technically I sat, he just sort of flopped down into a reclining position.  The first thing he said to me was, “I thought you told me you weren’t talking to any other guys.”  I was shocked.  I had said no such thing, and told him so.  Even if I had, why was he saying that?  That was just creepy and weird.

He then proceeded to criticize and belittle me with every other comment.  Throwing in a compliment on how pretty I was here and there.  Too little, too late, dude.  He accused me of not talking to him or trying to get to know him.  That was just bullshit because I started trying to politely ask him questions about himself as soon as I arrived.  It was a sad attempt at trying to appear not so irritated and disinterested in him.  He said a couple of times that he was just joking with me, but it sure didn’t feel very humorous to me.

Fifteen minutes in he asked me if I was going to stay the night.  What?  I couldn’t believe he just asked me that.  Of course I wasn’t going to stay the night.  I had just met him, after a very long irritating drive might I add, and I was in no mood to cuddle with this guy.  So I told him that I wouldn’t be staying.  Honesty is the best policy, right?

Maybe a half hour into my visit he starts moving closer to me and touching my neck and arm.  It was not welcomed affection.  I really did try to be nice about it, but I can only take so much.  When he started trying to kiss me and put his hand up under my shirt I had to stop him.  I told him I needed to go outside for a smoke.  He let me out the back door so I could get my fix.  The whole time I was smoking I was wondering why the hell I was even still there.

When I got back inside he told me that his boss asked him to go work a job that night, and he said that he didn’t want to pass up the $500.  However, if I was going to stay the night then he would gladly turn the job down.  One of those yucky chills came over me when he said that.  He was just a sleazeball.  There was no point in trying to deny it any longer.  As he told me that, he had walked up to me and started trying to hug me and kiss me again.  I suppose he was still thinking he could charm his way into my pants.  Sorry, but that only works if you have the charm.

I decided that I just had to tell him the truth.  “Listen, I just met you, so I should tell you that there’s no way I’m going to sleep with you tonight.”  Evidently, that was not a good thing to say.  He backed up and said, “Wow, that was just rude.  I never said anything about that.  You don’t have to be mean about it.”  What the fuck?  I told him that I wasn’t trying to be mean…I was just being honest.  I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding or for him to think I was leading him on, not that I had done anything to lead him on.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t honesty supposed to be the best policy?

After that he just kept on telling me how mean I was, and I don’t know if it was the stress of driving for almost three hours and thinking I had been stood up, or the wine, or that he was a total asshole, but I started tearing up.  It caught me totally off-guard.  I don’t cry in front of strange men like that.   I hate crying in front of men at all.  So I sort of freaked out and just told him I had to go.  I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.  He tried to stop me and said, “I don’t know what I did.  I don’t know why you’re leaving.”  I didn’t even care enough to respond.  I just got in my car and left.  I don’t think he even noticed that I was about to burst into tears.

That was at about 7:30 pm yesterday.  I haven’t heard a word from him since.  I thought he might have the decency to at least text me to make sure I had made it home all right, but he didn’t.  I haven’t had that many dates that I would qualify as totally bad, but this one qualified in the top five.  I wish I could issue a warning to all women on Zoosk and tell them to stay far, far away from this asshole, but unfortunately I can’t do that.  So I’ll just say, ladies, trust your gut.  If you get a bad feeling before the date, then don’t go meet the guy.

Happy (and careful) humping!


7 thoughts on “It’s raining men, with the chance of an asshole

  1. Wow love, that was one major waste of a night. He’s a douchebag with no game. I have had a few dates where things went really well and my date & I ended up getting hot & heavy (not all the way, save that for date 3, 4, or 5….. Kidding!),

    I have to admit that I, like you, am wondering why you stayed as long as you did?
    Either way, you’re okay & tomorrow’s always a better day.

  2. Pingback: Premature Jubilation | Confessions of a Preacher's Daughter

  3. Pingback: Customers of the week | Confessions of a Preacher's Daughter

  4. Pingback: Locked out of heaven: How I know when I’m in love | Confessions of a Preacher's Daughter

  5. Pingback: Memorial Day Musings | Confessions of a Preacher's Daughter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s