A while back, I briefly dated a guy named Mike. I met him out and about at a bar in Chicago. He seemed really nice, had a good job, and sang in a band (do I always date musicians?), and frankly, he was pretty darn cute. We hit it off and he asked if he could take me out sometime. I was interested, so I obliged. He took me out for dinner and drinks and I went out to meet his friends. I even introduced him to a few of mine on the second date. All in all, so far so good.
I believe it was the third date or so when he surprised me with tickets to go see
Mofro at
Schuba's in Chicago. I had casually mentioned that they were one of my favorites and I was pleasantly surprised by the gift. We planned to meet up at his condo in the South 'burbs and head out to the show from there. I showed up early and excited to see a great band in a great venue. Antsy and anxious, I pressed for us to get moving quickly if we wanted to get a good vantage point for the show, but he wouldn't budge, saying that he had a "surprise" for me.
20 minutes later, there was a knock on his door and the surprise had arrived...in the form of a white stretch limousine. I suppose that most girls would find this sort of gesture incredibly romantic and thoughtful, but it freaked me out. Big time. It just seemed like waaaay too much effort for a third date, and let's face it, he was trying too hard. I'm not the kind of girl that can be "bought," and I felt like the gesture was wholly unnecessary. Nevertheless, I decided to stop being a neurotic bitch and just enjoy the evening for what it was.
We pulled up to the venue, and I have to admit, I felt a little like royalty being let out of a limo, just to see a band at a bar. I was starting to feel pretty good about the date. So what if he was trying too hard? It just meant that he thought I was worth the expense. I was sure that we were going to have a great night.
Since we didn't have to look for parking, we arrived at the perfect time to scope out a great place to stand and enjoy the show. Mike went off to grab a couple beers and I held down our place on the floor. Minutes later, Mike returned with beers and shots. I took the shot and toasted to a great night. Not wanting to get too drunk (it was only the third date), I mentioned that one shot would be my limit for the evening. Mike agreed not to buy me any more and gently squeezed my hand and smiled as the lights went down for the show. I blushed as he kissed my hand and twirled me around once to the music.
The band sounded great and Mike and I were having a really good time. He excused himself to grab a couple more beers and I stayed near the stage dancing and singing along. Several songs later, I found Mike at the bar high-fiving some guy with a line of empty shots in front of him. I asked where he had been, and he slurred the response that he was, "Schtaking some shots wisss his new friendsss." He shoved another beer in my direction and downed what I could only assume with his fifth shot within the 20 or so minutes that he had been away from my side. Annoyed, but still reeling over his sweetness only moments before - I asked if he would care to join me back on the main floor for the show. He waved me away and said he would meet up with me when he was done with his friends that knew how to "party."
Suddenly embarrassed and upset, I walked away, determined to enjoy myself with or without him. After all, I had tickets to a great show and lord knows I don't need a guy to have a good time (that's why batteries exist). I ended up running into some old friends out on the floor and made the very mature move of getting wasted in retaliation. If Mike wanted to get drunk without me, I was going to do the same.
At the end of the show, I said goodbye to my friends and found my "date." Considering that he had downed what must have been close to an entire bottle of whiskey, he was still standing upright and was actually somewhat coherent, although I can't say the same for myself. We got back in the limo (well,
fell back into the limo, if I am going to be perfectly honest), where I decided to give him a piece of my mind. "How dare he just leave me all alone? I had thought we were going to have a good time together, and instead he just bellied up to the bar and ignored me. He should never have even taken me out if he was just going to drink himself stupid and blah blah blah." I was MAD...and drunk as hell.
Slurring but apologetic, Mike started to defend himself when I interrupted him by rolling down the window to vomit. Oh yes...I did. On the Interstate. Going 60+ mph. It was all over the front of my dress, in my hair, all down the side of the limo and probably on the poor car driving behind us. The world was spinning and having my head sticking out of a speeding vehicle with nothing to see but the world flashing before my eyes was not helping my condition. There were no towels to clean myself off, and there was no way to scrape my dinner or my dignity off the side of the road...and we were still a good half hour away from his place.
I won't gross you out with the details of the rest of the evening, but let's just say that I was not putting my best face forward. I still think it was a jerk move to abandon me at a concert for shots, but in the long run, I was the one who came out of the situation looking like a jerk.
Let's tally, shall we? Guy buys me concert tickets after I casually mention that I liked a band. Mike = 1, KC = O. Guy orders limo to take us to show. Mike = 2, KC = O. Mike gets shitfaced, KC gets shitfaced. Mike = 2, KC = 0. Mike apologizes, KC blows chunks out of a limousine window. Mike = 2, KC = -5.
Can you believe he asked me out on another date? I must be cute when I puke.
