I debated and stressed and freaked out about NYE on whether or not I should invite Ken to party with my friends and I.
We’re still really new.. essentially only been dating a week.. and it’s a little early to be introducing him around to my friends (for me, introducing men I’m dating to my friends is something done when things are serious or I’m testing them out for long-term viability). Not to mention the superstitions of NYE, and the symbolism of starting a new year out together.
For me, NYE is a pretty serious holiday. It’s also generally when shit hits the fan in my dating relationships. We’re both starting a new year and reflecting, and considering changes for the new year… which often includes.. “Am I happy with the person I’m dating?”
It doesn’t help any that NYE is notorious for everyone being drunk.
The combo of all the above is generally a lethal combination for a relationship that isn’t solid.
So I was freaking out that Ken wanted to spend NYE with me. I talked to a few friends who told me I was being insane and making more out of it than I should.
In hindsight, I should have told them to bugger off.. but I listened and calmed down. I invited Ken to join me with my friends for NYE.
On the plus side, he bought my drinks and for the most part was sweet to me.
Unfortunately he had his own agenda for the evening, and was not very happy that I didn’t want to play along. At one point I was so frustrated with the situation that I was nearly in tears.
Ken sober is a little odd, a little dorky, but fun and reasonable. Ken drunk is majorly nerdy-dorky, wants everyone to join him in what he finds fun and does not comprehend that someone else wouldn’t find it fun or enjoyable. He likes to spout trivial information.. which when he’s sober is generally of some kind of value to the conversation, when he’s drunk it’s often off-topic useless “OMFG shut up already” trivial info.
We had our first “tiff” or “fight” last night as well. He loves spouting off toasting/cheers from different countries. Or at least he claims these are the cheers of these cultures. He also gets upset when you don’t join him in doing whatever random cheer comes to his mind from whatever random country he chooses.
This is what we fought about. He wanted me to do some strange Spanish toast (he claims its what they do in Spain) that was intricate. Rather than showing me the toast, and then us doing it together.. He wanted me to repeat after him and follow his every move to do the toast with him.
“No no.. move your glass up.. come on.. do it with me. (Some spanish sounding word) No no.. follow me, now move your drink this way… Come on move it all the way over… You’re not even trying.. ”
At which point he acted like I was being the biggest party pooper on the face of the earth, and got mad at me for not participating. I just hated feeling treated like a child and having to follow some insane cheer of a country that I do not live in and have absolutely no ties to at all… but mostly it was the being treated like a child.
I finally convinced him to must finish the cheer.. I was curious about what it was, and when done it seemed to be pretty close to the stations of the cross and at that realization I had little inclination to do the cheer without knowing exactly what those Spanish words meant.
So when he finished the cheer, I raised my glass to him and drank.
He got pissed.
“No you didn’t do the cheer, you can’t drink.” (And he was serious, and seriously upset.)
I swear if I have to do some kind of insane fucking cheer from some foreign country that I’m not even in, or celebrating, or attached to in some kind of fucking fashion.. just to drink my damn beer on NYE… Then I’m done. (At this point of the evening by the way, he was doing these random toasts with nearly every damn sip.)
I felt absolutely no need to apologize, and he wasn’t about to give up. So we reached an impasse, and I went moved a few feet away to sit down and cool off.
Some friends came to join me, and he took off.
I assumed he went for more drinks but I wasn’t sure, so I waited. Waited.
Waited. 5 minutes passed.
Waited. 10 minutes passed.
So I texted him, “Are you still here?”
I texted again, “I guess you left 🙁 ” (I added the 🙁 even though I wasn’t really feeling it. I figured if me not joining cheers was a deal breaker, I would be fine finding someone else. I had a whole bar to shop from at that moment anyway.)
2 seconds later he shows up oblivious to my texts while holding a new beer for me, and two shots.
I was a little pissed about the shots. I had told him earlier that evening that I wasn’t planning on getting very drunk. I’d done that with him a couple weeks earlier and that was enough. He however insisted that it was NYE and I must drink. So I sipped some beer thinking that would be good enough.
No no.. he wanted to get plowed and thought I was a party pooper for not wanting to get plowed.
He insisted that I do the shots with him.
I did the shots even though they about made me puke. Only that wasn’t the end of it, he bought more shots later.
If I wasn’t trying to be polite in front of my friends, I’d have told him exactly what fucking bus to get off of .. I was not in the mood to drink like that.. NYE or no NYE.. Plus I drove.. sure I could have gotten a free drunk-tow home, but since I didn’t want to drink.. it was just easier and more relaxing to just hangout and drive myself home later.
But polite me… I did those shots too.. and ordered a large glass of water. I essentially stopped drinking at that point. He did not.. not that it mattered he was already hammered.
Then he wants to dance. Club dancing. Ken is not a great dancer, and normally you can just accept his dancing as fun exuberance. When he’s drunk though it looks more like drunken insanity. I hate club dancing. I can do it, and for a short time, I can do it very well. But do to an actual physical issue, if I club dance too much I’m in trouble the next couple days.
Ken refused to take no for an answer and looked at me like I was the biggest party pooper alive.
“I love to dance.”
“I know, I’m not stopping you. If you want to go dance, please feel free. But I don’t like club dancing.”
He acted like this was news to him. (It really shouldn’t be. Despite that we’ve always met at club-dancing events in the past, I’ve only danced 3-4 minutes of the 3-4 hours that I’ve attended those events. I’m notoriously the “table holder”)
“But I want to dance with you..” He whined.
At this point, he’s more annoying than anything else.. so to appease him I drag him out on the dance floor, and give the dance my all.
“See you can dance.. you dance well.”
(Yes I fucking know that.. that isn’t the point.. but he didn’t want to hear my point unless it was more dancing.)
After the song was over, I told him I was done dancing. He was upset. A half hour later he started whining about dancing again.. I again tried, but the song was some kind of weird techno that I have no idea how to dance to nor do I want to learn really.. so I told him we had to wait till the song changed. It was like I’d given him a piece of candy and took it away before he could eat it. We never danced again.
He missed the actual countdown because he was drunk, and was disappointed that others didn’t want to do a countdown an hour later. Don & his girlfriend tried to humor him for which I was grateful.
My friends started texting me asking me who Ken was (they were embarrassed for me), and Don even asked if Ken was gay because he thought he was hitting on him.
I texted back, “He’s not gay. I’m kinda dating him. Not thinking after tonight that it’ll last long.”
“Hmmmm.. well he’s drunk, cut him some slack?”
“I’m trying. He’s lucky he’s good in bed.”
Finally I convince Ken its time to leave. Since I knew he’d gotten off work right before he showed up, and I’d not seen him order food at the bar, I figured I needed to get some food in him. So we headed to an all-night burger joint.
He ate. I ate. He seemed to get pissed that I didn’t eat my fries. It wasn’t that he bought them and they were going to waste.. it was that he ate his and I didn’t eat mine. As if I was starving myself or something, because he ate his fries and he couldn’t understand how I couldn’t have eaten more than I did.
I was confused. Seriously? I’m expected to clean my plate? I’m a FUCKING ADULT. if I don’t want to fucking eat my damn fucking fries, I’m not going to eat my damn fucking fries. (It also so happens that potato and me haven’t been very good friends lately so I was being cautious.)
Finally I manage to remind him that I ate earlier in the evening. I was eating some mini-burgers when he arrived, and that seemed to sooth him. Though now I am a little scared that he’s a chubby-chaser and may try to force feed me if I start to lose weight.
We get back in the car and I start driving to his place. He starts pointing out bars.
“Oh lets go there….” And yes, he meant right then. He obviously didn’t think he had enough to drink. Luckily it was after the bars had closed so we couldn’t go there even if he’d have been able to convince me.
Then we pass by a very nice wine bar that I actually do like. He insists that we must go there sometime.
“May I take you there sometime?” He pleads.
“You promise? Promise me you’ll let me take you there. Promise.”
“I promise I’ll let you take me there someday.”
“ok..good” He replies with a huge grin and bubbly attitude as if he was a 4 year old and I just told him Santa was coming again tomorrow.
I keep reminding myself that the sex is good, and hoping like hell that it’s worth it.
I figure the night can’t get a whole lot worse, so I might as well try to get sex out of the deal.
We get to his place. He always takes his dog out for a quick potty trip when we arrive, and initially earlier that evening, I’d planned on getting into a sexy satin & lace slip to treat him to.. and I figured what the hell.. I might as well continue.
So when he gets back from walking the dog, I’m standing there leaning against the bedroom doorway in a very revealing black satin and lace slip.
He loses all ability to speak. (MUAHAHAHAHHAHAHA)
He of course was too drunk to actually keep it up… but he more than made up for it in other ways. 🙂
And then this morning, we had the best sex that him and I have ever had.
It’s that morning sex that saves him every time, but I’m just not too sure that there’s more here than that.