Since it's 2009 and I'm currently single, I thought I would share one of the many bad date stories I have in my vault. I try my best not to think of them, so I keep them in a very dark place in my mind, along with memories of high school and my first boyfriend.
Years ago,my roommate at the time worked at a bar/club called The Exchange, and he and his girlfriend were going over there to drink for free and party it up. It was a Saturday night. I was supposed to have gone out with my boyfriend and all his friends to some club downtown, but he ended up calling me around 5 and telling me to hit the bricks.
He said that I wasn't "the one for him", and I "didn't challenge him", and there was "nothing" I could possibly do to be the person that he needed. Ouch. Yeah, this break-up was awful. Everybody has that one break-up that almost kills them, and this one was mine.
I was devastated. Why I didn't stay home is beyond me. I guess I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want to feel the intense pain because if anything I was in shock. I didn't feel the pain yet, and I wanted to prolong it as long as possible before I did. So, I went out with my roommate and his girlfriend. And I got completely obliterated.
I blacked out. I don't remember anything about the night or even the people I encountered. The next morning, I woke up with a killer hangover and my roommate telling me about some guy with whom he worked with at the club who wanted my number. Apparently, I had been dancing with him that night. Actually, I wasn't the one dancing because Colette had left her physical body, and somebody else had taken over at that point. She must've been a good dancer, whoever she was.
I call him, or he calls me, and we agree to meet up. He asks me to meet him at a local bar/pool hall called Boston Billiards, and when I show up, he's with his friend playing pool. I should've run, but I didn't. Who brings another dude on your date?!
Then, he tells me how we should go over to this club called Bill's Bar. It's a small place, and this particular night was Hip-Hop night. All three of us head over, and we have to pay money to get in, and I don't think he paid for me, but I do remember the ticket girl gave me a really nasty look as if I had just shit on her heels or something. I had no idea what her problem was. I was used to girls giving me dirty looks: I had cocktailed for a few years. You get used to the stink eyes after a while.
So, this guy, his friend and I go in, and my date is pretty much ignoring me. I'm standing there by myself with a drink I bought, and I'm trying my best not to feel really awkward and out of place, but it's pretty much impossible. The guy and his friend are talking to some people across the room, and I'm just there drinking my cocktail, hoping nobody notices me. I want to leave, but I don't.
When all of a sudden, the bitch on wheels ticket girl comes up to me and gets in my face and starts asking me a bunch of questions like how I know this guy and if I've had sex with him! Who does that?! I told her I didn't know him, and NO, I had not had sex with him, but she didn't believe me.
And she was drinking a beer, and she dumped it on me. So, I took my drink and dumped it on her. I felt like I was on The Jerry Springer Show. It was surreal. I am so not the "Bitch, I'll throw a drink in your face" type of gal. However, she left me no choice. You throw a drink on me, honey, you best be sure, I'm throwing a drink back.
Then, this maniac grabs the first bouncer she sees, and because she works there, I get thrown out. They physically remove me from the establishment, and it is super embarrassing, but I am so angry that I don't even care. I stand on the sidewalk for about 5 minutes, waiting to see if that dipshit would come out. But he didn't.
I take a cab home, soaked in beer and trying my best to hold back my tears. Around 2:30am, I get a phone call from Prince Charming, asking what happened to me and why I left. 2:30! The club was small. I'm sure he had seen everything, or at the very least heard about it.
I asked him why he would take me to a place where he was dating or had dated somebody, and he smugly replied: "Well, then there would be no place for me to go." Apparently, he was screwing or had screwed half the cocktail waitresses/bartenders/ticket girls at every bar/club in the city. He was a real catch.
About a year later, I ran into him and his "date" one night when I was waitressing at a bar near Fenway Park. I served them drinks, and the girl seemed really nice. I wanted to warn her what a douchemuffin the guy was, but I didn't. I figured I would let her figure that out by herself, like I had to do.
I hope for her sake he didn't take her anywhere later in the night where she would be physically assaulted with drinks by a crazed and jealous woman, but you never know.
If you have a bad date story, and you want to share: please e-mail me at coletteslovebytes@gmail.com
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