Yeah, this happened.

Man.  I have been *so* busy, you guys.

OK, that's a lie.

No, mostly I've been pouting.

Remember that fantastic date from like, 2 weeks ago?  Well, it *was* fantastic.  We were already talking about dates 2, 3 and 4 by the end of the night.  AND he was a great kisser.

Except..

Ah, that dreaded "except".  

Listen, men.  No matter how hot you are, no matter how successful or whatever else.  It is not cute to spend your time telling the girl how much *she* wants *you*.

First time?  OK, kinda funny in a sweet, teasing way.  Second time, yeah, OK, that'll get a pass too.

But after that?  No.  Because she will start not wanting you and start wanting to chew off her own leg in a bid for freedom.

And under no circumstances WHATSOEVER do you ever text the girl "Your vagina moaned when I kissed you.  I heard it."

EVER.

No matter how drunk you may be.. Chances are, she's not (I wasn't) and chances are she is not going to find that sexy (I didn't).

Now, I figured not all was lost.  That date was on Tuesday and I had a date with another guy on Thursday.  This guy was super sweet.  Picked the spot carefully, reserved a table in this very upscale lounge, he was known there so the chef sent us out these amazing gourmet appetizers on the house.  It was lovely.

Except..

Ah.  Except.  He was very attractive in his pictures.  In person, he was still cute, but not in the same way.  And I tried, tried so hard, but I just didn't feel that spark.  I even let him kiss me and still.. nothing.

Not to mention, this happened: The very upscale lounge we were at was part of a hotel, which isn't unusual.. New Yorkers love their fancy hotels.  Anyway, we were at the lounge when he got up to go to the bathroom and a handsome man in a suit approached me as I was sitting there.

Side note.. This was my outfit that night.. Sorry for the blur, I realized (about 4 glasses of wine in) that I hadn't snapped a pic.  

Not sure how much more I could have been covered..

So, handsome man in a suit approaches me and asks me if I had a card.  Puzzled, I ask for what?  He replied that was hoping I was taking new clients and he would very much like to call me.

In my fuzzy, wine soaked brain, the little monkeys were furiously cranking the gears.  Finally, a lightbulb appears.

I look at him and ask him what in the world made him think I was a *hooker*.

He apologized profusely (to be fair, he did seem extremely embarrassed) and he stammered out something about how I was so gorgeous and he thought my date was.. well.. and I was so beautiful and he is so terribly sorry, please, pardon, he didn't mean to disturb, he really is so sorry...

At that time, I was just done.  I grab my coat and beat feet out of there, run into my date on the way out, made my apologies and scrammed.

Pretty bad, right?

But wait.. It gets worse.

The following Monday I get a text from a guy I had given my number to about 3 weeks earlier then hadn't heard much from.  He apologized and said he was just swamped with finals, blah blah blah and hey, he just had a great interview, is in my area and would I like to grab a drink?

Sure, OK.  After the last few days, why not?

Honestly, I should have stayed home and caught up on Mad Men.

Really.  Why didn't I stay home and catch up on Mad Men?

Sigh.

So, I make it to the bar to meet him and upon getting there, notice how sweaty he was.  Like, a lot.  Come to find out, when I arrived he was already 4 drinks and 2 shots in.

So, he keeps trying to foist shots on me, I keep declining.  Eventually he wants to make it over to a pub that's about a block away.  Since he had his car with him, I didn't want to just leave, so I say, fine.  I'll drive.  I drive over, park where he points me to and we go in.

A bartender that I've chatted with before is there, so that's nice.  I like friendly bartenders.  

We sit down and the date orders, yet again, more shots.  At this point I just say 'fuck it' because really?  The guy I was with is well on his way to shitty-drunk and I just couldn't take it anymore.

Then he gets up to go to the bathroom.  And I wait.  And wait.  And wait.

Of course, when I go to check on him, he is on all fours, vomming into the toilet.

Perfect.

He comes out of the bathroom and sits back down.  And enters everyone's favorite type of drunk.. Morose Drunk.  (Said no one ever).

So, I'm like, listen, we're getting you a cab and you're going home.  He insists he's fine.  Totally fine.  And yes, he can absolutely drive home, I need to give him his keys back, he's FINE.

He wasn't fine.

I call a cab, cab gets here and I put him in the cab.  

I stay a few more minutes to apologize to the friendly bartender for my friend, make sure we're settled up, etc.  So, about 5 minutes goes by when in walks the guy.

Of course.

He didn't want to take a cab, he wants to drive home.  At this point I tell him that he needs to call someone.  He said he lived with a roommate, and he needs to call the roommate.  Except he's having trouble working his phone.  He hands it to me so *I* can call the roommate.  The roommate named Mom.  Who apparently he still lives with.

Of course.

I call his mom.  She's coming to get him.  I hand the keys to the bartender and say I am out.  And I was.  Ho.lee.shit.

About 45 minutes later I get a call from the guy saying that he wants to go out again sometime and that he really likes me.  Sure, buddy.  How about a week from Neveruary?

And about 10 minutes after that I get a text from friendly bartender asking if he can take me out sometime.

And that is how NicoleNoelle decided she's probably going to become a nun.

The end.