Good morning! Today I’m continuing on with my tales of bad dates past…
A year after I graduated from college, I was home in Michigan from NYC for a visit and was trying to see as many people as I could. At some point, I invited a friend of mine to meet up at MSU one night. He and I had been pretty good friends my senior year. He had dated a younger girl from my house and I had pretty much been the very worst date of one of his frat brothers. Somehow we were friends, so when that social circle was getting together, it made sense to invite him. He was always super fun.
He said he couldn’t come that night but invited me to come out for Cinco de Mayo. He and a couple other guys had just moved into a house and he said it would be a fun night to go out. I said I’d let him know.
My first instinct was, “This is a bad idea.” I even told a few of my friends that I didn’t think I should be hanging out with a bunch of dudes with no girl friend along. I mean, that just sounds like a stupid thing to do, even though I knew the guys and we were technically all friends. But on the morning of Cinco de Mayo he talked me into it, simply because I can’t resist the urge to drink tequila.
So when I got to the house, none of his roommates were there but he just said they were already out and asked me if I wanted to get dinner. I had already eaten because I assumed we were just going to get down to the business of drinking tequila, but I was kinda like, “Uh…sure! I’ll come along if you want to eat.”
We headed to a restaurant/bar and I ordered some fries (of course) and a beer. He ordered chicken fingers and I was giving him a hard time about it because, well…come on. So we were kind of joking about it. Then, a little later in the evening, he said, “Yeah, the waitress probably thinks I’m a total douche for ordering chicken fingers on a date.”
Now, I was good and buzzed as he said this, and I absolutely choked on the last sip of the beer I was finishing.
Because the fact was, I actually had not known I was on a date. Generally, I like to be aware of such things and plan my undergarments accordingly. And more important, I plan my drinks. At this point, I was on my way to “shouldn’t drive the hour home” and it was only dinnertime.
And, in all honesty, I didn’t want to be on a date with my guy friend. My guy friend who likely knew way too much about me from his friend. My guy friend whom I had never thought of in a “We should go on a date!” way.
After he paid for everything at the restaurant (I was trying to undo what he had done by declaring it a date), we started walking to find another bar. I asked him where his friends were, figuring we would be meeting up with them, but after a couple half-assed phone calls, it became apparent that his friends weren’t out at all. It was just going to be the two of us.
So we headed to the douchiest bar in town which was packed with too many former sorostitutes and guys in graphic tees and at at that point, I knew it was time to start drinking my feelings. I figured I didn’t have a chance to get out of there on Cinco de Mayo in any shape to drive home, so I just figured, What the hell? And he had some game. I mean, part of his game was probably feeding me tequila in the spirit of the holiday, but hey…I found myself thinking, “He might be my height, but you know what? He’s got some game.”
Then again, I may have just thought that because he was feeding me shots.
At the end of the night, we walked back to his house, where my car was parked (which I wouldn’t be driving home, of course). His roommates still MIA, which was probably good; after all, one bad date is better than one bad gang bang, right? At that point, there was no, “Oh you can take the bed and I can take the couch!” He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t going to try to sleep with me.
It was really more of a threesome: him, me, and Jose Cuervo.
The next morning I woke up early and just wanted to escape. But I didn’t want to wake him up as I fled because I didn’t want to talk to him and do the awkward “Oh, last night…” thing. I just didn’t want to talk about it. So I was trying to think of how to get out of the bed and get all my stuff and get out the door without waking him. I looked around: I saw watch, keys, purse, phone, all scattered across the room. I’d have to collect it all and get to the door, like I was on some sort of slutty scavenger hunt. And I wanted to do it without waking him.
I just lay there and lay there trying to get up the balls to do it until I realized that McDonald’s stopped serving breakfast in 20 minutes, and I wanted it not because I worked up an appetite or had qualified according to the rules of McMuffins. Really, I just figured that I had totally shamed myself even further with this frat (didn’t know it was possible…really didn’t think I had it in me) and I didn’t care if I got diabetes at that point.
Thinking of my sorostitute reputation falling down another few pegs due to the same goddamn drink was all the motivation I needed to get out of bed and I did the most stealthy escape of my life. I was so quiet; it was like “Mission: Impossible.” I did a tuck-and-roll out of the bed, grabbed my stuff in a stealthy, silent motion, and got out of the room and to the front door…only to realize I didn’t have my car keys! I had to go back in and was sure that’s when I’d trip or something…but I managed to pull it off! I sprinted to my car and, once I had safely through a hash brown, I texted him that I was sorry for leaving so early but I had to get home early and didn’t want to wake him.
He responded with some typical fratty respone…and after that, I didn’t talk to him for a full year. I was too…annoyed. Sure I could have been angry at the fact that he got me drunk and then told me we were on a date, but ya know, that wasn’t what got me. What got me was that I was positive he had told everyone we had hooked up and made it seem like I actually wanted to hook up. I mean I didn’t care enough to not hook up, but I resented the idea he was telling people I had come down there on that mission. If I’m going to make Eskimo brothers out of two guys, I’d prefer to do it intentionally.
Setting that record straight though now, aren’t I?