Then I got a cold. My throat feels like I should have my tonsils removed and if I lay down my throat closes shut. Yay me.
But he wanted to meet anyway. So I’m all.. ok.
He shows up and he’s just as hot as his photos. This NEVER happens. Unfortunately, he didn’t bother to shave and came in cargo shorts, a Grateful Dead t-shirt, and a hoodie. So he put absolutely no effort into this.
Then he orders his drink. Bartender asks if I want another one and I say Sure. She brings us our drinks back at the same time and asks if I want to pay mine separately. He does not offer or suggest he pay for it.
He comments to me a few minutes later wondering how much the drinks are.
He asks me about my day.. small chit chat stuff. I point to his tattoo which I can only see a bit of, and ask him what it is (aka show me). He shows me. Shows me that it’s the same as his t-shirt. Also the same as his wallet. All Grateful Dead.
He asks me if I like the band. I’m about 10 years too late for the Grateful Dead. He’s exactly 10 years older than me. He can’t fathom that I don’t know or like the Grateful Dead.
He asks me what music I like. My music tastes are hard to define, so I say “Blues/Jazz”.. He responds thinking I mean rock and roll of the 70’s 80’s 90’s, specifically talks about how the Grateful Dead did some blues and mentions Led Zeppelin. I just smile and nod at him not correcting him.
To this day, I will never understand how when I say “Blues” that people don’t automatically start thinking of BB King or even Etta James.. or heck, I could even accept some Sinatra.
He shows me photos of his kids.
He asks me a ton of really really small talk questions. I try not to die completely of boredom.
He asks me how close I live. I give a general answer.
He asks me if I own or rent. My head spins and my brain goes “fuck no, run”. I evade.
He asks me if I’m firmly planted in Austin or if I’m able to move if need be. I’m thinking WTF kind of shit is this?
He asks about my past. I kindly ask about his (but honestly I didn’t care). He details his entire life. Where he was born. Where he moved next. His first wife, how she got pregnant. Their kid. Then talks about meeting his second wife and how young she was (19, he was 39 at the time) and that she got pregnant their first time together. They got married. She got pregnant again. “I don’t know how she was supposedly on birth control” in a very accusatory tone…
— Ding Ding… I’m out.. RUN RUN RUN AWAY—
He continues about the kid and moving to Texas and that his kids are now moving somewhere else and he’s pissed about it and how could she.. and …
He shows me photos of his kids.
He talks about the karaoke playing. It was excruciatingly bad. On this we agree.
He talks about his work and how his hoodie is a freebie from work.
Then he touches my hair. He TOUCHES my hair.. like fluffs it and strokes it. Asks how long I’ve had it this color.
I can tell he wants to kiss me. He’s sold and ready to go.. if I offer.
I do not.
I may want to screw the entire town right now.. but it dawns on me that I have a few standards left… and while this guy is attractive looking.. it’s a
OH HELL NO.
So we walk out. He insists on walking me to my car.
He doesn’t want to let me get in it. He wants…
I get in my car and bid him good night. Sometimes I just want to tell guys to shut up. Like if they didn’t open their mouths, I’d be all over them. Sadly they do. They do open their mouths.