They call me Janelle...that's not my name?

When I drink I think I am a genius, a smart, funny, dating mastermind; I am not, I am an idiot, do not let me tell you any different. Friday night I went out with Nikki (remember her? Friend from college, excellent drinking partner, real classy lady), Melvin was there, but so where about 10 other guys. Nikki really is a single girl’s best friend, she  has a boyfriend who has mounds of single friends, Nikki is like the Easter Bunny, but instead of hiding chocolate she hides away single guys and you find them hidden one by one.  It’s a magical thing and every single girl needs a Nikki in her tool belt.

She took me to a new pub and we commenced a night of drinking. In order to make Melvin jealous I didn’t stop this Australian guy from talking to me all night, great plan right? It actually was until somehow me and the aussie got onto the topic that our city had a sex show all weekend and I had never been before, they have it every year and apparently it’s a good time. So when he said we should go tomorrow, I thought fuck it, sure I’ll agree and in a drunken mind frame this seemed like a great idea! A guy I’ve known less than 2 hours and a sex show, how can this go wrong! This is where normal people would be like oh wait, bad idea, not me, I don’t see the downfall to this plan. He asks for my number and of course because I am all wastey pants, I give it to him. As a side note, I really think the whole make Melvin jealous thing did help because he gradually spent the night sitting closer and closer to me and serenaded me with a song while he was singing karaoke, which by the way, made my heart go all kinds of melty and made me just swoon even more for this man, but this story isn’t about Melvin, so I’ll get back to the point.

When the aussie texted me the next day asking if I was still interested in going to the show my night flashed the less before my eyes, oh fuck I did agree, damn. He said he would pick me up at three, great, now my hung over ass has to get ready and go look at vibrators and other things with a man I’ve talked to for a short period of time, a short drunken period of time none.  This should be great!

There is another downfall here that makes this whole event even better; I can’t understand a damn thing this man says, he has a full blown accent and he could be saying “I’m going to take you down a dirt road and leave you there” and I would have no idea, I just nod and smile to 90 percent of what he is saying.

So he came and picked me up, right on time, which is a bonus for him, and we head to the sex show.  Things are going well; I remember his name and the parts of our conversation that I could understand from our night before. I remember that he played rugby for a club in Shitville and he informs me that he has friends who are working security at the sex show, because you know, sex shows can get pretty out of control at 3 in the afternoon. We walk in and immediately he see’s people he knows, great. Now I’m confused if this is a date or just two people hanging out, or what, but regardless, I believe introductions to friends on the first date is just awkward. I’ll do it, I’ll be polite, but can’t we just avoid eye contact with all friends till the third date because then I really never know how to handle myself in these situations. That may make me weird but I feel like I can’t really jump into the conversation in fear of saying something wrong or overhearing something that you don’t disclose on a first date, so I just like to avoid these situations, he doesn’t, he says “aw can’t be rude, better go say ‘ello to my mates” and I’m like all like “uuhhh what did you just say? Where are we going? AHHHHH follow, okay, I’ll just follow!”

I’d like to point out that we talked for one night and we were both drunk and so when we walked up to his friends I wasn’t really sure how the introduction would go...but what happened next I wasn’t sure how to handle. Maybe someone smarter could have figured out what to do, thought better on their feet, or found a way to avoid the situation entirely, I am not that person, and we all know how I handle pressure situations; fucking horribly.

He introduces me to a group of guys...”this is Janelle.” The first time, I wasn’t sure if it was just his aussie accent trying to say Justine or if he really did just say the wrong name, but it was confirmed when another guy from this rugby club came up and he said it again...”’ello mate, this is Janelle.” That’s not my name, close, but not really, but do I correct him, because that would just make it awkward. I could just be like “oh hey nice to meet you, but that isn’t actually my name! I just met this guy drunk last night and now we are at the sex show so don’t give him a hard time, I could barely remember what he looked like this morning!” But if you don’t correct then he will just keep thinking that that is my name and well how long do I wait to correct him? If things go well do I just change my name and never tell him that my actual name is Justine, not Janelle. I went for option two...I’m just going to wait it out.

After awkwardly walking around the sex show he asks if I want to go back to his house for a beer, well I’m three drinks in, you don’t know my actual name and I don’t turn down free alcohol so why the hell not! We get back to his house and I sit down on the couch and start drinking beer, we are talking about a mutual friend that he lived with and I played soccer with and went to Europe with when he asks the question, “Would you like to see some Australian money?” Funny little aussie guy, I may be four drinks in but I know that means going into your bedroom, I am not venturing into there, even if we just spent the afternoon watching pole dancers and looking at vibrators. I start laughing hysterically and he doesn’t seem to understand why, I think it’s funny that he thinks that line would work, he doesn’t see the humour in it, so I say no, I’m not a hooker, money doesn’t get me into your bedroom, again he doesn’t laugh, and I’m left thinking maybe guys don’t appreciate my sense of humour as much as I do.

I left shortly after that and he drove me home, still not knowing my real name, not thinking I’m as funny as I do and probably confused as to why a girl who was willing to go to a sex show was not willing to go check out his Australian money. Ah the perks of going on a date with me.

Terrible Date Tuesday: Am I drunk yet?

I’m a talkative person, I can generally talk to anyone at any time, I have no problem walking up to strangers and talking to people, so maybe that’s why I hate people who are so quiet. What I hate even more are people who choose to do all their conversing through text message. I get that it is easier to be brave over text, you can hide behind your little cell phone or computer and be a chatty Kathy! It’s for that reason I really strongly feel that when it comes to dating your text conversation should be kept to a minimum. I feel like it makes an awkward situation when you can spend a week getting to know every detail of some ones pathetic life only to sit down and go on a date with them and have these awkward silences filled with not really knowing what to say or do. So how goes your brothers fight against genital heries that you felt the need to tell me about over text message? See...awkward.

Mchottie and I met in Mexico, in a drunken state mind you, but we did spend some time sober together. He was sweet and charming, not really all that funny, but he was alright. We could hold a conversation. I met up with him again when he was in Alberta for lacrosse provincials, then after Kermit and I broke up we began our month long, text and talk every day. I knew everything about him, we would spend hours talking on the phone, I would talk to him about Amy Pohler, life, and he would talk about work, lacrosse, different things he did on the weekend. Our conversations were similar to what couples talk about when they are trying to maintain a long distance relationship. I had low expectations of what would happen once I was there, I knew what I wanted, him to pay for me to go to Toronto (yep...I’m a gold digger, judge all you want), have a weekend with friends and drinks and that would be it, we would slowly taper off.

But once I got there everything just seemed wrong, he was arrogant, unlikeable, and bossy. The weekend as a whole was not good, there were good parts, but I just don’t think you can start the weekend off with is in my top 3 worst dinner dates and come back from that. He picked me up at the airport, we drove back to his house and got ready to go for dinner. I am not a jacket person, people always comment on it, but I just don’t like wearing them, never really have, so while leaving the house he said, go get your jacket. I am a grown ass women, if I wanted a jacket I would have grabbed one, I am not five please don’t talk to me like I am a child. I say I will be fine, he tells me he won’t leave until I grab one. OKAY DAD! I grab my jacket, we leave. He parks a million miles away, I guess it is Toronto, and we walk to the restaurant. I make a note that it’s colder in Toronto than it was in Red Deer. He looks at me and goes...ya...aren’t you glad I made you take your jacket. No I am not ass muncher! I would have been fine and if I was cold I wouldn’t have told you because I am stubborn like that. Automatically I am in a bad mood, but hunger probably had something to do with it, see I’d been flying all day so I had eaten a bagel on my way to the airport at about 7 in the morning. It was now 7 o’clock in Toronto. I am not one of those girls that doesn’t eat on the contraire, I eat, I like to eat, and that’s why I drag my ass to the gym every day, so I was hungry. We arrived at the restaurant at 7 o’clock on a Friday night, unless you are Kim K and Kayne or someone with the equivalent amount of fame you are going to be waiting to get at table. He starts saying how hungry he is, over and over and over again. No shit jack ass, we are both hungry, hence why we are going to eat, stop complaining. He starts commenting on which people are finished eating and not leaving their table in a timely manner, you’re right, they are sitting there enjoying each other’s company, which is exactly the opposite of what I am doing now.

We sit down and thus commences the awkward silence and the awkward, what are you getting...oh I’m not sure what are you getting, conversation. I hate that conversation, it's forced and just makes things feel uncomfortable, because you know if that comes up it usually means you have nothing better to talk about. We decide by the time the waiter comes around for drinks...well he decided and I was forced to make a fast decision because he was hungry. They bring out a starter salad shortly after that. I said starter salad, not some big salad that has all this stuff, it a small salad with lettuce and cucumbers. He finishes his quickly and I continue to eat mine, when I am about half way done MY STARTER SALAD, he looks at me and says...wow you were hungry, you are eating a lot. IT WAS A FUCKING STARTER SALAD!!!!!!! Every childhood memory of being called fat comes flashing through my mind, the time the girl didn’t invite me to her birthday because she didn’t want a fat kid to eat all her birthday cake, the time the boy didn’t like me because I was fat, the soccer coach who told me I’d be an amazing soccer player...if I could only lose 20 pounds, all those repressed memories of being the fat kid came flashing back. Our meal comes...I didn’t eat it. I couldn't I was sent back to that 10 year old version of myself, the one who was to scared to eat in front of people and was so self conscious she would wear a hoody every single day, even if it was 30 degrees out side. But I watched him eat his meal...all of...maybe you are the over eater fatty, and drank three glasses of wine in the mean time. So now I am a drunk, hungry, angry mess. 

Our conversation picked up once I started drinking more and we are talking about the mountains and how I love them, he says he went there once with another friend and two girls but they mostly just stayed in the hotel...yes...my friends...I am no idiot. He brought another girl to the mountains for a weekend and was choosing to talk about it in front of me. I didn't tell you about the time I went to the mountain with my ex boyfriend, I don't want to hear about your romantic weekend away either, but thanks.  He can tell I am about to rip his head off so he says lets change the topic. After I pointed out he brought up his weekend getaway I say I really don’t care because I am sure there were girls before me and there will be girls after me! Just like there were guys before him and there will be guys after. I have no filter; I have no ambition to be nice when I am tried, hungry and apparently an overeater. This starts our first fight. I am mean, I just have the ability to hold it in most of the time but not when I fight because I will cut you down in every way possible. But I have to spend a weekend with this man and I don't want him to go all Ted Bundy on me, so I just get up and leave in the middle of him getting mad at me and come back and say ready to go? I figured at that time it was my best option. We walk back to the car and he asks what I want to do...drink more so I can pretend to like you. Except I can't say that so I suggest we meet up with his friends for a drink because I'm not really tired. So upon arrival I made friends with one of his, and I drink. He was more pleasant, he was funny and actually carried a conversation with me, shocking concept I know. I could tell Mchottie was getting annoyed, I had just spent he last hour pleasantly ignoring him but letting him buy my drinks. Just what I wanted.

He drags me home at 12 and by that point I can almost tolerate him, thanks to my early choice to switch to hard alcohol, some times wine just doesn't cut it. That’s pretty much how my weekend went, get drunk so I like you...ahh I am sober...I HATE YOU MUST GET DRUNK!

That “date” night was definitely the top worst ones of my life, partly because he sucks, but a lot of it was because I knew that I had to spend the rest of the weekend with him so there wasn't an escape...the shocking part was, he said it went perfect...do men lie? Because the common thing about all horrible dates, is that the women is saying oh my god never again! While the man thinks it went awesome...oh dating...how awesome are thee

Terrible Date Tuesday: Week of horror

So it’s terrible date Tuesday here at DL&P! It is easily becoming my favourite day of the week, even more so than Wine Wednesday. This week instead of just one terrible date we have a whole week of bad...no, terrible online dates! Dana (bless her heart) has submitted her week of horrible dates! Enjoy, I know I did!

 

Soooo date week from hell. Because I needed a whole week, not just one bad date in a week. I am fun like that

What does one do when they have a bad break up? They go on plenty of fish. To PROVE they are irresistible, smart, sexy women. They find their hottest pictures with their friends having bad hair days, or they find a picture of them and their ex and crop the SHIT out of that picture. I’m going to tell you all about my week of BAD pof dates.

Sunday – Break up, an angry break up too, not one of those sobbing ones, no no more like no motherfucker you are going to PAAAYYYYYYY FUCK YOU WATCH ME WALK AWAY FROM YOU AND MOVE ON WITH MY AWESOME LIFE!

Monday – go onto POF make your account, not pleading, not looking for life love, but you can’t say you just want to hang out because **apparently** that means hooking up. You need to be funny, light, smart, serious, great in general and pretend you NEVER go crazy. So you put up all the ex’s favorite pictures of you that you’ve cropped, then you wait. For an hour. Then tada TONS of desperate lonely men just chomping at the bit to get to know you! It’s great, you’re talking to so many men that are so interested in you!! Of course you get a couple weirdoes that are offering you Christen Grey type behaviour because their wives aren’t into it, but mostly they’re just lonely normal guys – Or so you think.

Tuesday- I make a date with a guy new here from British Columbia, they always seem pretty down to earth. Put on a cute shirt, random necklace – don’t want to scare them with too much real jewellery – and jeans. We are meeting at a local pub called East 40^th So first sign of a shitty date is that he meets me inside, obviously not a gentleman and would like to see me look around confused first. Second sign of a bad date is that he doesn’t look like his picture….at all…so much so that you’d think it was his distant cousin in the pictures and you’ve been bamboozled. But hey! He’s not a total monster so ill sit have a few drinks, I’m already there. He wants to have some pizza after he texted through two beers and barely grunted at my enquiries. So he gets 2 for 1 pizza. I ate three slices…he said “WOW you eat a lot of food for a girl hey?” What a dick! These were not huge pieces of pizza, just to be clear; these were normal size pizzas! Everyone knows that when you order two kinds of pizza you try one of each and go back for a second of your favourite. It’s common sense.  To top that night off, he goes in for a kiss, were we on the same date buddy? I do the deer in headlights, awkward hug, and turn and then DOVE into my car. Like I could have been on the Olympic swim team with the dive I took to get away from him. Then he called me repeatedly for another date….are you fucking kidding me? Did I miss something?

Wednesday- So I meet this guy at Tiffany’s, which is a pretty nice restaurant and he’s pretty cute, older though. So we plunk down in front of the fire place in these chairs that are not for dinner. But hey whatever, we all make mistakes. I easily reach 800 degrees in the first twelve minutes,  this is getting awkward. This guy starts comparing me to….his daughters….who are five years younger than me. WHHHAATTTT?!?!? Yea, seriously.  So now I’m sweating to death and I’m deeply disturbed by the kid thing. But oh well. We order some food, I ordered an appetizer and he orders a full 10 oz steak dinner. This would have been fine if it wasn’t for him getting pissed off at me for only ordering an appetizer.  To make matters worse he comments at least 12 times about how weird I am and that I’m obviously not from Red Deer (like that is an insult)….Born and raised actually….dumbass. Then he tried to get me to pay so I threw a twenty down and stalked off, I didn’t order the steak douche bag, pay for my ten dollar appetizer, I realize you have college to pay for your for your daughters but lay down the ten bucks and be a gentleman! He followed me out to my car and tried to kiss me good night….sorry no. This frigid bitch said have a good life; go for people in your own age gap!

After two dates there are two very apparent things...choosing what to order and how much eat is apparently a bigger deal than I thought it would be! And no matter how bad the date they will always go in for the kiss.

Thursday- Thursday, oh Thursday we should have stayed at home and watched old Friends reruns.  I went out on a date with a guy named Abram. Yes, I do understand now that the name should have tipped me off but nooooo. I don’t learn quickly, God forbid.  We went to Bo’s, he seemed shy, had a beer, pretty endearing. He was asking me about growing up in Red Deer and so I asked him similar questions. That’s when the first proverbial ball dropped…He is a Mexican Hudderite runaway. Yes, you read that right... MMMMMM I know how to pick em right? I was already three paralyzers in so I jumped right into the conversation being like What? How? Who? When? Where? Why? Apparently during WW2 they ran to Mexico with a handful of other huds and they all interbreeded (im not just being a bitch, just wait) and then they came up to Canada with his whole family of 10 and they all started working in Ontario, got ex communicated or whatever the hell you call it and so then he ran away to Alberta to start his own little dream. Now everybody in his family has 6 fingers on both hands (see I’m not just a bitch). BAM.wait wait wait this whole hudderite thing just got dropped on me, no way, nooo freakin way, I asked him to prove it, because I am three paralysers deep and I need proof of this…yeah... he did…phone pictures L that night ended with both of us going in opposite directions. I can’t run the risk of my future children having extra digits.

Friday – Friday came and I was jacked. Nothing bad happens on Fridays! It’s Friday, every ones gotta get down on Friday! I was going to cities, which I love due to their love of bacon. I figured life was good; I met this date on match.com which has to be MUCH better off than POF right?? NO. They are just social and emotional retards with money! Brutal I tell ya. Anyways this one smiles awkwardly in the parking lot (and I took that for endearing, I’m not looking to date a puppy but wtf maybe this little gaffer is just a little shy, better than a douche bag)  and we say hi and we go into cities grab a table …….. …….. …….. ……. And don’t say a thing. When I’m feeling nervous or awkward I talk. SO I talked and talked and talked and talked and talked like I was on some kind of illegal amphetamine, this was a bad situation. He answered everything in single syllables. He had a lego watch. He looked like Chuckie from Rugrats. His smile is still unknown to me.  I’m sure he did agree to date me, I remember him asking me and me agreeing but hot damn it looks like he was on a blind date that his mom set him up with. Pretty Brutal anyways after a mute dinner we ‘hugged it out’ in the parking lot never to speak to each other again.

Saturday – I went to my friend and got drunk properly. Deleted POF. And decided I would only date strangers I find in my bar because at least we will have that much in common.

Terrible Date Tuesday: The hamburglar

 Welcome to today's episode of terrible date Tuesday:

I’ve been on my far share of bad dates, this time though, it was me who was the terrible date, kind of. I met this guy on-line, aren’t we all shocked? This was a few years ago way before Kermit, back when drinking on weekdays was part of my weekly routine, you know, wake up, shower, poop, school, gym, eat, get drunk. I was really good at it, never really got hung over, was a functioning human being, seriously I could teach the course on drinking in college.

Like I said I met this guy on-line and we both went to the same college so one day we decided that in between classes we would meet up and grab a coffee. He was okay, nothing special, seemed like an okay guy, not really a spark. But he did live in the dorm and was having a huge kegger Friday night. Count me in, you don’t have to ask me twice. So I got 5 of my girlfriends together and made our way over to his kegger Friday night.

Once there he started hitting on my best friend, Ro at the time, meh that’s okay, I was at a kegger and there was millions of guys, you go girlfriend. After several keg stands and rounds of beer pong we made our way down to the country bar but not before I had picked up a stalker from the party. He seemed nice enough but he was not my type, at all, redneck, fat, and I think I remember red hair. Any ways, give me enough keg stands and I will think any one is funny and charming, so with beer goggles on I spent the night two stepping with him. At about 2:30 in the morning we decided we needed to go home because Ro was done dodging the guy I had a brief coffee date with. Red neck man asked for a ride home, fair enough you live close by, sure.

First thing he does is ask to bum a smoke. I am in college people. Money does not flow when you are in college, hence why I am talking to you red neck man, so you can buy me drinks because I am to fucking poor to buy them myself. What ever, I give him a smoke. He then asks to stop at Mcdonalds, again, I am poor, to poor for drunk Mcdonalds, so you know that’s poor, but he offers to pay so I make a pit stop.

Ro and I order are Mcdonalds, buddy orders his and has now “bummed” three smokes off of me. This is turning into my nightmare. We get up to pay and he says “oh fuck…I forgot my wallet at the bar.” Are you kidding me redneck man? Seriously. I hate you. I am driving you home, you’ve smoked my cigarettes and now I am not even getting Mcdonalds from you? I hate you. I spend my last 20 dollars on this Mcdonalds that we ordered and drive him home. Now usually when you go through drive through it goes one of two ways, you wait till you all get back to the house and all eat, or the passenger passes out the food. Simple theory right? He did neither, he just started eating, I could see him munching down in my peripherals. I wasn’t paying attention because I was angry with this man and looking at him repulsed me at this point. So we pull up to his dorm house and I say, pass Ro her Mcchicken. He said…I ate it. Why am I not surprised? Oh ya…you are oozing douche from every single poor. I said ok pass her mine…He said…I ate it. IT WAS A FIVE MINUTE FUCKING DRIVE YOU ATE ALL OF OUR DRUNK MCDONALDS! I snap, and say ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU FAT REDNECK SON OF A BITCH?! He then opens the door, farts, and says “thanks bitch”

 

What happened next is a complete blur. I went crazy. I get out of the car, take off my heels and chase that mother fucker down. Now the best part of this all is I was wearing a very little blue strapless dress. In my chase after him the strapless part had fallen down, so I am running after him, dress around my waste, boobs every where because they are just being held in by a strapless bra, I am bare foot, heels in hand and swearing like I am an angry sailor. Ro was behind me trying to stop me, but there was no stopping, I was on a mission…the mission, kill the fat, redneck man who I hate. He smoked my cigarettes, ate my food and called me a bitch and farted…I was going to hurt this man. So I jumped on his back and started beating him with my very cute black stiletto. Really legs wrapped around his stomach, holding on with one hand and beating him with the other. Naturally he is screaming so now people have gathered, Ro is back by the car laughing hysterically, and then there is me, on the back of this redneck douche bag, beating him like the crazy person I am. A guy finally pulls me off and I get in my car and drive home. Angry, hungry and out of smokes. Oh and broke because I paid for it.

Terrible Date Tuesday

We are going to start some thing new here at Diary of the lost and perplexed! I was really missing my 60 day It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken challenge and thought I needed some thing new and exciting for you guy! We are calling it Terrible Date Tuesday! Sounds fun right! Every Tuesday I am going to write about a terrible date I’ve been on just for your reading enjoyment! Now…I haven’t been on that many terrible dates, a few, enough to get a start on this, but I am going to need your help! So ladies and gentlemen I want to hear about all your terrible dates. It doesn’t have to be a first date, maybe your boyfriend took you on a bad date and you think the world should know about it, although first dates hold a special place in my heart. You can e-mail them to me here diaryofthelost@gmail.com or you can take a stroll over to my facebook page HERE! Please put the subject line JUSTINE THIS IS MY TERRIBLE DATE! I will read them while drinking wine and laugh at your misfortune, just as you laugh at mine, asshole.  So please share and let’s make Terrible Date Tuesday the best thing on the internet and help me get on Ellen. Because I really just do this blog in hopes of becoming famous and getting to go on Ellen one day! On that note…Ladies and gentlemen…the first entry of Terrible Date Tuesday! Welcome to the date I call The Drug Dealer.

The drug dealer

There has never been a date worse than this one. Never and I’ve had some bad ones. He informed me that he couldn’t meet me at the restaurant because his car wouldn’t start but if I could please pick him up that would be great. So I did, shit happens right? Ya, when I got to his house there wasn’t a car there? Maybe your problem was that you didn’t have a car to start, I’m not rocket scientist but generally one needs a car to start a car. I should have drove away then but I didn’t. Oh Justine…life choices.

So we go to a restaurant that he worked at…that he told me he owned, but he didn’t. He worked in the kitchen he didn’t own it. This man must be very confused because again I am not a rocket scientist, but just because you are an employee does not make you an owner.

We ordered a drink, as in one for each of us, no more, no less  and the only words out of his mouth was I like your necklace it’s really pretty. Convenient, my necklace hung right in between my tits. I mean I strategically planned that but still. Twenty minutes later he asked if I could drive him home because he needed to run to his friend’s house quick but then we could come back. So being young and dumb and thinking he was hot I agree. We go into his house and he pulls out a duffle bag. A FUCKING DUFFLE BAG! Any guess what was in this bag? A lot of mary jane. A lot of it. Like you know in movies how some one has a duffle bag full of drugs and one has the brief case full of money, picture that…just not brief case or money. Did that make me leave? No my friends it didn’t…because I was a stupid fucking twenty year old.

He starts to tell me about his promising music career and if I would like to hear his CD. If a man with a duffle bag full of weed asks if you want to hear his CD the answer is always, I mean always yes. He puts it in and out comes the best rap about a ham and cheese sandwich I think I have ever heard. Have you ever loved a sandwich so much you were compelled to write a song about it? No? Me either, but I want to meet the man who made a sandwich that good and give him a high five! The next song, even better, pink lemonade, we are sippin’ on some sweet pink lemonade. Ah…good times. He must of wrote those after hanging around with his duffle bag.

 I asked for a copy and I got one. Life 0 Justine 1! I have a little token to remember this date always. Some people get taken to carnivals and the boy wins them a teddy bear, I get a duffle bag full of weed and a rap CD, thus is life.  

At this point he got up to go to the bathroom. I did what any completely insane 20 year old would do, I grabbed a zip lock bag from the table and put some of that weed in a bag and shoved it in my pocket. Ya, you read that right. I stole from a drug dealer. Not recommended but this point I needed some thing to do damage control on how bad this date had been. It was at this time that I hear *SNOOORRTTTTTTTTT* in the bathroom…ok maybe you just have a booger you have to suck up…but then it happens again…and again…and again. Ya that’s not a booger my friends…that’s a man riding the rails to happy land. Furthermore who snorts that loudly! Fucking weird man. Now I may not be above stealing some bud from a drug dealer, but I am definitely above that. I am getting the hell out of dodge. So I say “uuh my friend just texted me I have t go, sorry it was nice to meet you!” He comes out of the bathroom and asks if I can drive him to drop off some weed at his friend’s house. Seriously dude? We just met tonight…no. I am taking my free weed and getting the hell out of dodge. End of date. Sadly I never heard from that gem of a man again. But I did smoke that weed while listening to his CD. Best thing ever. Ah…where is that CD!?