I haven’t written for awhile, but this isn’t a late blog, I didn’t mean to submit this months ago. This incident just happened this past weekend. I don’t know how things like this happen to me. I can’t be totally innocent; it isn’t a coincidence that bad dating situations follow me. If I knew how to stop the insanity, I definitely would. I thought I took a break from guys three months ago. Isn’t that like being on base in tag?
The Dumbass mentioned in “The Deed is Done,” and other blogs before it, finally ran into me last night at the local pub, three months later. Upon his arrival last night, I repositioned my chair so that maybe I could avoid him a bit longer. It even worked for a bit. Some boys have this tunnel vision that stops them from checking out their surroundings. Whereas, I believe, girls like to take an immediate inventory of the room to attempt to foresee and solve any possible problems, perhaps that bitch from high school is lingering around or that old boyfriend or, in my case, the guy that wouldn’t leave might be hanging around.
Of course, I decide to finish my drink and move to the pub next door to solve any issues. My Best Friend for the Night, BFFN, without hesitation understands our predicament. Successfully, I hide while our drinks our finished, I say my good-byes to others, making my presence known, and head for the door assuming I could just maybe avoid the problem altogether. I am naïve. I know this. Before my exit, he makes a comment about me not talking to him immediately; still I think I could be safe. I am happy to switch locales.
Entering the other bar, we scope out the surrounding, greet a few acquaintances, and find a seat. It is less than thirty minutes, and everyone from the other bar has moved to this one, the downfall of a small town. As soon as we split up for the purpose of the bathroom, Dumbass is instantly hovering over my table. Not caring for formalities or friendliness (it has been three months since we have even spoke), he jumps to why I would break up with someone like him. He tells me, “I know you think you can do better than me, but have you changed your mind?”
I did use every excuse known to man when I broke up with Dumbass after barely two dates. I told him it was me not him, I told him we lacked passion, I told him I was out of a bad relationship and needed time, I told him I liked his buddy more than him, and I told him it was just not going to work out. Hasn’t anyone read He’s Just Not That Into You. People make up harmless reasons to be polite. In reality, I never could get myself to find any entertainment in kissing him; I did not specifically tell him this. By the end of our second date I was dreading his puffy vacuum suction lips like my boss avoids buying clothes in her actual size. As I attempted to dissolve this dating drama, he retorts every excuse I offered. In his defense, I did start with a couple “let him down” easy reasons; still I moved through the real reasons and made up some for good measure. Know a good reason to stop dating someone after the second date? I used it. It didn’t matter.
This particular night, he is ranting on about how I am wrong, and we could be good together, wink, wink. Doesn’t the Bible state something about winking being a sign of the devil? I believe it. After listening to his diatribe for the millionth time I have ceased to state anything but the truth. He soon parts but clearly stays nearby.
He hugs some girl and looks in our direction. He orders a drink and looks in our direction. He laughs like the big fat Santa he is and looks in our direction. I was good at dodging his “look-at-me” moments. I really did not care. It was just that they were not short little glances. I could feel them burning into me.
Personally, I was having a humorous time making friends with a townie with a mullet. Tucker was actually quite interesting. My BFFN and I met him earlier in a pool game. Unfortunately, he was forced to leave to order to maintain a restraining order his ex-wife placed on him. He really wasn’t being disrespectful and insane, just friendly. Knowingly we were still on alert.
After Dumbass realizes that I am an absent audience to his bizarre mating ritual, he begins to have an insane stare down challenge. It is too much for me to withstand that I have to look up. Ignoring him, I return to my conversation and BAM! He has rocketed over, crouched down like a charging bull without horns. Nothing has changed from his stare; the same sinister stare from six feet away, only now inches from my face. I back up to the wall, shocked. “You don’t know what you are missing!” he taunts.
“I guess so,” I flatly state, “I’m okay with that.” He darts away after brushing four jazz fingers over my shoulder.
My friend and I are a bit flabbergasted. All the same, the night continues. We visit with random people and soon Tucker returns. Tucker explains that his wife now has come over to this bar, but he is not leaving. He doesn’t care what she says. My BFFN and I agree that she is following him and giggle. Mistakenly, I decide to share our experience with Jeff with him. He immediately transform into Head Bouncer and personal bodyguard.
Now, I have only just met Tucker. I don’t know him all that well. Nevertheless, Tucker is an inch shorter than me, sadly thirty pounds lighter. He is trapped in 1988. I could beat him up without much effort. He is hardly someone to pick for a bodyguard. Dumbass could be easily four times his size for sure. My BFFN and I make a feeble attempt to stop him, but he has already crossed a river of people and is standing behind Dumbass making small talk. However from our point of view very little happens.
The night continues. Friends continue to pack the bar. At least forty minutes have passed; we are having a fantastic time. Ironically, Tucker’s ex-wife comes to warn my BFFN about Tucker’s cheating issues. My BFFN insists that we are only Tucker’s friends. It isn’t long before Tucker has returned, and we can see his ex-wife making gagging motions behind us. We try to contain our laughter (who needs to get in the middle of redneck spousal abuse, she probably could take Tucker, too) when Dumbass has stared me down literally into the wall behind me. None of us even saw him coming. He has been apparently perfecting the stealth of a fat ninja. He looks in my face as hard as he can. Tucker puts his hand on Dumbass’s back.
“I can’t believe you! Now I won’t get to come to your dad’s party this year. He invites me every year,” he sneers.
“I am sure I won’t ruin your invite,” I state knowing my dad’s memory of such trivial things. He invites everyone in town to his yearly July Fourth Party. I am also in my mid-thirties, so I am pretty sure I have little to say about my father’s guest list.
Dumbass shoots behind my chair and instantly begins to knead my shoulders. It is a Monica Geller back massage, the best worst massage in the world. I dodge away from his hold. Again, he leans in towards my face and mocks scornfully, “You just don’t understand.” Then he pinches me. That’s right! The forty-year old vacuum sucker from hell pinches me. Not just a playful pinch, a pinch so hard with a twist on the end.
“What the hell?” I screamed, “Get off me!” He departs, and I rub my arm sure there will be a mark in the morning.
I teach middle school. Please tell me that adults do not act like this for real. I can’t remember the last time I was so violently pinched, maybe fourth grade by my brother. Holy Cow! Is this supposed to make me change my mind about dating him? The only thing it made me do is want to change my phone number. People wonder why I don’t care to marry.
Mishaps Today 