The Full Report

The  Murse and I met up at the Yardhouse for drinks.  The first impression of him was a good one; he was fairly attractive and taller than I am, even with my heels on.

That was pretty much the best part of the date.  When we got into the bar, he confessed that he was already drunk.  “Had a rough day,” he said.  “Drank some wine before I came over.”

Within two minutes of sitting down, he’d already grabbed my leg, which made me very uncomfortable.  He ordered a $52 bottle of disgusting wine.  Normally wine is supposed to taste better the more you drink.  Not so much with this stuff. 

We made small talk for a while.  I asked him how many people he’d met off of Match.com, and he told me 15.  I asked him what he normally does on dates, and he said “dinner, movie, pretend like they’re interesting, you know.”   This would have been funny if he wasn’t serious.

Eventually I couldn’t drink any more of the wine.  It was just that gross.  He kept talking about how he had better wine back at his place. I told him I didn’t want to go to his place.  He then suggested that we go to the Starbucks across the street.  He’d go to his condo, get bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, and meet me there.  I agreed, but not before  he asked me to cork up the bottle of nasty wine and put it in my purse.

We went our separate ways. I went and scoped out the Starbucks to find the least likely place for us to be arrested for drinking in public.  There were tables outside and so I sat down and waited for him to arrive.

He showed up about 15 minutes later with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a cheese platter.  That part, I have to say, was pretty pimp.  I started to feel more comfortable as we drank the wine (which was also disgusting), hiding it under the table and from the security guard who kept driving by in the golf cart.  The security guard, I think, sensed something was going on, as he stopped in front of the Starbucks.

Me – That security guard is totally going to arrest us.

Muse – Him? I could take him. I’ll just distract him with a can of grape soda.

See, ‘cause the security guard was black.  And you know, all black people like grape soda, just like all black people like fried chicken and watermelon. Ha ha. Not.

I gave him a dirty look for his comment, and then he tried to tell me that I was racist because I got the joke and knew the stereotype.  That's like saying I'm a hooker because I'm aware that prostitutes have sex for money.  He then went on to tell me about how he was a good catch because he’s white and the area in which we live is heavily populated with minorities, as he grabbed my leg. Again.

The security guard eventually drove out of sight, so the nurse took another drink of his wine.  Only this time when he went to “hide” it again, the glass tipped over and broke, scattering shards of glass everywhere and spilling wine all over the concrete.   Everyone outside heard the smash, and turned around to look at us.  We were busted and needed to leave ASAP.

This is the part where I should  have said adios.  But, you know, I like self torture, so I agreed to follow him back to his apartment where we would sit by the pool.  But when we got there, he couldn’t get into the pool area.  So we ended up back at his apartment.*

Of course he’s a single male, so the place was a mess.  The toilet was really, really, disgusting.  I mean, filthy.  But these were things I expected going in there in the first place.

We sat down and he finished the bottle of wine by himself (which made two bottles total, by the time we were finished).  He kept getting closer and closer to me on the couch and starring at me.  I told him he was making me uncomfortable, so he kept telling me I was being silly and starring more intently to make me even more uncomfortable.  I ended up moving to the other side of the couch where there were several pillows between us.  We watched a comedy DVD and as soon as that was done, I fake yawned and made my way out of there.  He walked me to my car, I gave him a hug and went home.

So, apparently, racist, molesting, starring murses aren’t my type.  Who would have thought???

And of course, Mr. Abrupt called me the next day.  That dude must have some sort of Spidey sense.  She's gone out on a date with someone who wasn't me?!? I must call her and win her back!   I didn’t answer, and so he called me the next day.  I figured I should see what he wanted, and he went on talking like nothing was going on and frankly, I was too tired to ask, “What the hell?!?”

So, that was my date.  I’m done with the dating scene for a while.  These people are CRAZY. 

-K.

*A stupid decision, considering I didn’t know the guy, I know.  But he seemed rather harmless and I had my pepper spray in my pocket the entire time.