Dr. Drunk

After Hoover, I decided to date again. Actually told that rusty ass appliance while he couldn't decide what he wanted that I was gonna start dating again. FML...I really wish I hadn't. It was just a reminder of all the hot messes left out there. Men over 40 or 50 (a few in their 30s) who can't hold a conversation. Or in this case...their liquor.

Let me introduce you to the first memorable date I had after Hoover. Dr. Drunk. At first, he seemed great. Was a chiropractor, the same age as me, had his own practice, had his own place, funny, liked going out AND had a beard and tattoos. Added bonus - bro could dress and hit the gym like a mofo.

First date was ok. Went out to dinner. He paid (which I always appreciate). Conversation was ok. A few times he seemed to be not really listening. I also was concerned we may have nothing in common. But he's cute and nice and has an actual real job. So date #2 was planned.

Second date, lunch and outdoor bar. Same scenario as above. I'm still so unsure. I'm not feeling sparks but that's ok because sometimes sparks are dangerous and can ignite a flame that burns out as fast as it started. I actually commented to him that when we talk it seems like he doesn't listen and he has a glazed over look on his face. He tried to tell me he does and I was wrong.

So I said fuck it. Let's try date #3. The ever-elusive third date. I can probably count on one hand, MAYBE two how many guys have gotten a third date in the last four years. We decided to hit the Tiki Bar in Point Pleasant as he really wanted to go there. I offered to drive because he said he had a rough week at work and wanted to relax and have a few drinks. Ok, no problem. I'm a one drink girl anyway.

Where do I fucking begin? Dr. Drunk started pounding the drinks right away and we were there probably 6pm? I told him you better slow down. Then the hands started getting a little too touchy feely for me. I like PDA. But I do not like being manhandled and groped. The comments about my body started coming and his eyes then never left my chest or ass. We never made eye contact for the rest of the night because he could not divert his eyes.

He was getting shitfaced. Sloppy drunk. And I"m getting pissed and want out of there. But I"m hungry and so is he. I also realize now this asshole has to sleep over because he's too wasted. I warn him, you sleep over and puke I'll fuck you up. After grabbing a quick bite, his drunk ass convinces me to go into the funhouse where he proceeds to start yelling at the guy taking tickets no one better touch his girl. I just shake my head and roll my eyes. Not your girl bruh.

And to make matters worse, he also started talking like what I could only describe as a wannabe gangster rapper. From a smart, educated doctor to someone who would not shut the fuck up saying yo yo yo. And also throwing gang signs or some shit.

You probably think I"m making this shit up. I wish I were.

Fast forward, I let him sleep over and he has to sleep in my room because it's legit 95 degrees out and I can't run my a/c in more than one room. I tell him to be quiet and go to bed. But of course he tries to kiss me and take off his pants. I gave him one more warning and said put your fucking pants on, don't touch me, go to sleep or your ass can sleep on the couch in 110 degrees.

Next morning, I promptly woke his ass up and kicked him out (NICELY - GET UP, YOU NEED TO LEAVE BECAUSE I NEED TO GO TO THE GYM) and later that day sent him a Dear John text to which I received no response.

I fucking can't with these guys. WHY universe you keep fucking with me?