This past Wednesday I went out with a guy who I will call "The Drunkard." He works down the street from where I work and he lives down the street from where I live. Yet for some reason we met at a bar about thirty blocks away from us. This may not seem like a big deal, but when you're going on several dates a week and taking a cab there and back so as to be punctual, that adds up!
He had texted me while I was in the cab saying that the bar we were going to go to was packed so we should go somewhere else. I suggested a place I knew to be relatively quiet to the others in the area and he said that was fine. I got out of the cab and met at him outside the bar he was apparently drinking at for the past forty minutes. He went to hug me hello and he reeeeeeked of booze. Sexy.
As were were walking to the bar we passed a cute wine bar and I said, let's just go in here. We sat at the bar and hilarity/misery ensued. At first we were talking, asking each other questions about our jobs, our families, etc etc. That was all fine. But, in the amount of time it took me to have a few sips of my glass of wine, he had downed a giant mug of beer. He was then onto beer number two (at this place, I'm not sure how many he had by himself at the prior bar).
He started slurring his words a little and was in the middle of telling me about a beer garden in Pittsburgh where they sing a funny song - and then he starts singing the song. I was trying so hard not to crack up when he was singing about the tall, tall giraffes and how the little fishes swim and whatever other animals were involved in that awful song.
After that he thought he was hysterical so he kept laughing randomly and asking me questions that he forgot he had already asked me five minutes ago. When I repeated my answers, he'd laugh even harder. And one point he was telling me something with his finger pointed right in my face. I almost smacked his hand away.
It was after he got up to pee for the second time and was holding his crotch and doing a little bit of the pee-pee dance that I decided I needed to get out of there. When he came back from the bathroom, he asked me for the second time if I wanted to get food and again I said no. I told him that I wasn't going to be able to finish my wine and that I was ready to go. He got the check and then pushed it away and continued to ask me more questions that he already asked me. I couldn't sit there with the drunkard anymore so I pointed to the bill and asked if we should split it. He said he got it and I quickly put on my coat and jumped off my seat (at this point, he was practically sitting in my lap because he kept leaning over into me with each sip of beer). I thanked him and quickly walked away in the opposite direction.
Dates like this make me really appreciate Mr. Quiet even if I do have to do all the talking.