On dating...

So I met a guy.

He was cute, so cute, charming, oozed charm, and the reason I have decided to take a break from dating for a while. I don't know if its that I don't trust other people, or I don't trust myself but this last one is, if nothing else, a really funny story.

Men. They are really amazing sometimes.

So this guy takes me out and was the perfect gentleman. He was interested, attentive, charming, and he laughed at my jokes even though I had a sneaking suspicion he didn't really get them.

He was gorgeous and I was a dumb girl.

He fell for me that first night - honked his horn, flashed his lights and pulled me over because he "Had to kiss me."

How romantic.

Ugh. I should have known.

Now, I really want to avoid sounding bitter because really, I'm not. It's just - well...

It's just, you want things to turn out the way you dream it will and its so rare that it ever does.

I really wanted to like this guy.

He called the next day and had to see me. He chatted up my friends and played terrible pool with great humor. He gave me a sweet kiss goodnight and really, I felt nothing.

Ugh. I really wanted to feel something.

Maybe I knew - maybe I can trust myself.

Maybe I should just trust me a little sooner.

Day three - two calls by 11am - strange.

I let it go to voicemail. I was working. By five, two more calls.

The guy really likes me?

My first response to positive male attention kicks in:

He really likes me. What's wrong with him?

I shake it off -

"I'm great!"

But somewhere inside I saw the red flag. I know I did because I never told my friends about the frequent phone calls.

On day four, call three, he actually asked to meet my family. I became concerned.

"I'm not that great"

I arranged to meet him for lunch to talk about the rapid pace he was setting.

This was not a race.

We never made it to lunch.

The night of day five there was an unexpected knock at the door.

Thursday night.

11pm.

Unannounced, he stood, on my doorstep, drunk.

Lovely.

He had driven his car, drunk, to see me.

How romantic. This guy was sweeping me off my feet.

What follows is hard to believe but true, I swear.

I let him in - couldn't let him drive...

"You're drunk."

"No I'm not. I never get drunk"

"You just walked into a wall"

"No I did not."

"Uh, Ok, well - I am going to go to sleep - I have had a long day. You should really crash out too..."

He stumbles around a bit and analyzes a crack in the wall plaster...

"I just need to sit here for a few minutes - "

He slumps onto the couch.

"You ok? you need anything?"

"No, I just need to sit here a minute"

Uhuh, ok, he's passing out - good. I excused myself and went to bed, leaving him on the couch to pass out 'till morning.

At 1am I heard him vomit.

Now, it wasn't really a shock that he was vomiting - but the origin of the vomit noises were coming from my living room...and they kept coming.

I put on my fuzzy slippers and padded into the living room to see him crouched on all fours, vomiting on my rug.

"Are you ok?" - exasperated. I know, stupid question, but really - what to say?

"No." - charming smile.

Ugh.

"You drove like this. Drunk. You could have killed yourself or some innocent person just crossing the street. This is not cool."

Outside for a cigarette. He joins me.

"You know, I feel bad and embarrassed enough - you don't need to lay a guilt trip on me"

Seriously.

"Excuse me?"

Bonus*It was here that I found the humor in a crappy situation while it was happening! Thanks dad!*

"I already feel bad and you have to give me shit about drunk driving...and its not that I'm drunk - its the way everything hit my stomach. I think I have a virus or something."

That, seriously, is a direct quote.

"Are you kidding me? I have done nothing wrong here - do not turn this around on me."

"Well I'm not drunk."

"You know, there are two options here. You think I am stupid, or you are far stupider than I thought you were. If you feel like your going to throw up and you're not drunk - you would at least be heading to the bathroom. You wouldn't just roll on your side and vomit off the end of the couch onto the floor. I have been a human for twenty-nine years and I know that if I was so sick I was walking into walls - I sure as hell wouldn't have the energy or nerve to pick a fight with a girl I just met after vomiting on her rug."

"Whatever."

Lovely.

He tries to clean the floor and I excuse myself again - just need to sleep - end this experience.

An hour later he crawls into my bed...a man I had only kissed before. Vomits on my floor and then climbs into my bed - no, he's not drunk...

I get up and move to the guest room.

He comes in at 5am, kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

When I wake in the morning - the house smells of vomit and alcohol and the rug is still there.

I start cleaning frantically.

Brunch with the crew. They took it well. We all had a good laugh. Its pure comedy.

He calls

"I am so sorry. I think I have a really bad virus or something...when can I pick up the rug? I'll take it to the cleaners."

A really bad virus.

He came to get the rug. He brought flowers.

The rug will be ready on Monday.

Who's dumber - he or I?

Don't answer that - it doesn't really matter - it makes a great story. I'm glad I have it. I don't really know what else to say about it except for...

"THE END"