Yeah, I stirred the moral gravy pot…and got a little creepy on my shirt…

Very interesting weekend…full of atrocious stupidities, learning experiences, and interesting possibilities of learning experiences to come!

I’ve yet to discuss in depth here contestant #2 in the Who wants to Date a Married Man Show.  The reason for this is primarily that my interest in him is hardly enough to mention.  He is Drunken-Dance(from two years ago)-Guy; I’ve just never had a huge interest in him on any level because …uhhh well, because he just does not hold my interest.  He’s in the basic, semi-attractive category looks-wise and his conversation skills, while they’re not horrible by any means, they are way less than intriguing.  In fact, if I had to compare him to a food, he’d go safely into the simple and bland category of plain white rice or say, whole-wheat bread maybe…but subtract any healthy aspects as he’s married and therefore lacks any health-nutrients whatsoever. If I had to liken him to an activity, it would be something like watching paint dry.  Yeah, he’s that irresistable!

However, he does get five stars for persistence.  I have blown this guy off to the point of rudeness.  I rarely answer his calls at all and I’m only mildly chatty when we do have conversations.  I make no attempt whatsoever to be charming, cute, exciting, or flirty to this man.  I mean ZERO attempts…and he continues to call and proceeds to imply this “thing” between us.  What thing? …as there’s been no “thing” and I’ve demonstrated no interest in creating a “thing” !  Apparently a “thing” in his mind is enough ‘thing” to a “thing” make.  This point leads me to perceive DDG as a self-consumed ass.  No, he’s never been rude or inappropriate directly  but his sheer persistence combined with my obvious lack of interest in him and in having any “thing” with him can only mean one thing: absolute self-consumption.  Self-consumed because he’s oblivious to my lack of interest and “ass” because he’s so persistently and actively looking to cheat on his wife…ummm…yuk!

The last few times he’s asked to see me, if I had plans with friends, then I’d say, Hey I’m going out with some friends later, if you want to meet up, you’re welcome.  He always responds like, I can’t really meet you in groups (really?  Umm…why?  Are you implying we have some secret thing going on or something?).  I simply say, Okay…suit yourself…gotta run…buh-bye.  This annoys me for two reasons.  One:  the thought of sitting somewhere alone with him has loud overtones of an experience akin to counting every grain of sand on the beach.  And two: and once again: there is nothing going on here to “hide”!  Nothing!  Nada!  The only thing to hide here would be his lewd thoughts and depraved intentions!  To imply directly to me that we’re on some secret clandestine journey together which must remain well-hidden from random people whom he doesn’t know and don’t know (or give a damn) about him, is ludicrous to the degree of laughable.  There is nothing going on here pal, aside from your pathetic and futile efforts to get something going on.  Have a hint buddy:  there has to be something to hide before there’s a need to sneak around and stay out of the spotlight…or in this particular case, keep out of random crowds of people in public places.  You’re not Justin Bieber for gawd’s sake – avoiding the paparazzi and possibly horrifying Enquirer headlines.  For the love of white rice…get over yourself already!  Hmph….annoying….!!

On top of which and I reiterate – nothing is going on!  And if he’d use even a smidgeon of thought, intelligence, body language (speech), or intuition, he’d clearly see that NOTHING is in danger of going on either!  Pshh….ridiculous.  Hey schmuck-man, I’ve shown as much interest in you, meeting up with you, or even talking to you as I would a paint-by-number with only one freakin’ number!  Hello??  Is anybody home???

So…one (especially I)  will never know why when he called Friday early evening and asked if I was free to go have a drink, I agreed.  Almost backed out before the conversation even ended though, as he struggled to think of a suitable (i.e. “safe”) place to go.  What’s up pal?  Are you thinking this “meet for a drink” is code for a public make-out-fest?  If you’re as nervous as a whore in church just to sit in a public bar and have a drink with me with 100 other people sitting around sharing the same space as we, then I have to go with, Not a good idea for you to do it fella!

And the fact that you ARE this nervous over NOTHING firmly tells me that you’re not at all interested in any kind of friendship or camaraderie with me…in fact, you’ve not even contemplated that possibility…and ewww..that makes me feel dirty all by itself.

Yeah, I don’t know why I went anyway.  Chalk it up to my informal research of immoral asses like this or listening to Sympathy for the Devil too many times, I dunno.   No.  Hey, you know what?  Actually, we can just chalk this up to my growing fatigue at his persistence in the face of my obvious lack of interest; as in, yeah, okay, let’s get this over with my friend; let’s set the record on this straight once and for all pig-cheater-guy; let’s invite the fat lady to sing already so we can get to the more pertinent (and final) act two of you LOSING MY NUMBER, you LOSER-ASS.  Hell, if you’re going to try to have a cheat-on-your-wife-fest with me, then at least be interesting or for the love of gawd, look up the word finesse in the dictionary.  GAWD..something…anything…to make yourself seem appealing in some way, shape, or form to even have a conversation with, much less a freakin’ extramarital affair!!

Thankfully, he selected a local place where many of my friends frequent.  I know Billy the bartender quite well and yay! he was working.  Cheating pig comes in a few minutes after I, acting  all weird-n-creepy-like, pays for my drink and then says, looking straight ahead and not at me, “We can’t be here.  Someone is here that I didn’t expect.”  Ohhh..really?  Okay… you’d probably better go then.  No, he says, my truck is outside parked on the hill.  Meet me out at my truck, but wait a few minutes after I leave to walk out.

What the FUCK?!  Now, I’m starting to think that this guy is doing this just for the “excitement”, as he’s making up drama where there isn’t any and making things look suspicious where there’s NOTHING. Does he fancy himself as the starring actor in some dramatic movie-of-the-week?  Has he listened to a few too many renditions of “Secret Lovers”?  Hell, I’m questioning even his basic intellectual capacity at this point..  OMG…is he just a literal idiot too?  I’m further annoyed. Because of my extreme level of annoyance, I took a reeeeeaaaaally long time to finish my drink: tiny sip…chit-chat with random lady sitting next to me…tinier sip…chat up Billy-the-cutie for a few minutes…sippy-sip…text a few friends….sippiest sip – which was more like a kitten’s little lap…watch some hockey on the bar television….siiipppp….  Finally, about forty minutes or so later, I get up to head outside and Billy asks, Awww, where ya goin’?  I say to meet up with a friend.  He winks adorably at me and says well you should come back…I’m working all night long.  Awwwww…Billy is irresistibly adorable!

Outside, I look back and forth from my car to the hill, debating if I even wanted to bother with whatever was next in this absurdity.  I went to his truck and jumped in.  I realize given my feelings about this kind of thing mixed up with my lack of interest, this seems truly an odd decision, but it was a great choice after all and I’ll tell you why.

Sitting in his truck, he starts talking of the random anonymous person in the bar who made it uncomfortably unsafe for him.  Awww……so I suggested another totally secluded out of the way bar and he said, “I don’t even know where that is”.  Ummm yeah…exactly you idiot.  Geesh!  Then, he says his wife is out of town and we could just go to his house.  Oh my freakin’ gawd…now that is it.  He was clearly not interested at all in maybe sitting and having a drink and an attempt (however futile for him that might’ve been) at some witty conversation. Now, I had all the answers and info I could possibly ever need about this guy and this situation.  Right along with all those answers came my rare ability to just speak plainly sans my politeness and my don’t-wanna-hurt-anyone’s-feelings-rose colored loquacious crayon.  And my irritation became loud and proud.  If you’re that nervous to just have a drink with me when nothing else has happened between us at ALL, then you shouldn’t be doing  this.  Why are you trying so hard to cheat on your wife anyway?  What’s the matter with you?

He bluntly says, I’ve wanted you since the minute I first saw you.  When I see you somewhere, I can’t pull my eyes away from you.  I think about you too much…all the time really…

WHAT.  THE.  FUCK?!  Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?!  You’re an utter weirdo?! Psh…no I didn’t say that  utter weirdo part.

So I say, I was willing to have a drink with you and chit-chat, but if your sole endeavor here is to cheat on your wife, I gotta break  it to you, you picked the wrong girl.  I can’t be certain I’d be interested in whatever you’re suggesting even were you single, but I do know for certain that being any part of you cheating on a sacred thing like marriage holds zero interest for me. I’ve been cheated on by a husband before and I will never be that person who takes part in that kind of ugliness or creates that much pain in another human being’s heart.

He nods his head and says he understands.  I start to get out of his truck and he says, I just want you to know you’re beautiful. And whenever I see you anywhere, I’ll be thinking of how much I want you…just know that…

Yeah, you go with that pal…seal that coffin.  Because that little last gift you offered up, just makes me feel wrong and so freakin’ dirty that I now feel like I need to go home and immediately take a shower just to cleanse myself of the pile of disgust you’ve just immersed me in.

No, I didn’t say that part..although I kinda wish I had..  I just hopped out of the truck and walked the few feet to my car, debating whether to go back in and chat with Billy the adorably sweet bartender and drown my disgust in yager bombs and bloody mary’s or go home and scrub myself down head-to-toes with a harsh disinfectant and holy water.

Again, the debate was tough.  I just felt so horrible that I’d even met up with this guy…so disgusted with myself, with him, with the debauchery and casual nature of this kind of thing in general.  Hmm…drown the mind/thoughts in a haze of alcohol… or scrub myself fresh and clean…??

I opted to just go home and take a two hour shower, washing away the entire nasty ass residue that creeper-man had  radiated onto me.  Umm…yuk!