I'm joining in today with a link up that is going to be something I think I could do....almost every day actually.
Trust me....it can get pretty sad up in these parts.
I'm torn between writing about the Serial Killer, the Drunk Douche, or Mr. I Like to Smell.
I'm thinking I'm going to go with Drunk Douche, this can get a little entertaining.
I met Brandon (it's his actual name as I feel no shame throwing him under the bus) online. I was past being Ms. Debbie Downer and was turning into Ms. I Want to Fuck Someone.
You can judge, I do.
Brandon was H-O-T as in I wanted to scale that tree faster then a cat getting hit with a hose. He was 23 at the time, 6'6'', an ex college football player, and a bouncer. I was in horny girl heaven.
Brandon lived in Gulf Port, which is about 35 mins on the highway from me and he had his own place so I figured I'd drive on up to meet him. He wanted to meet at a bar and I thought said bar would have food for me to chow down on. I was wrong. There was no food, unless we count Jell-O shots as food since he was loading me up on those bad boys. I didn't think much of it but we were drinking and having a grand old time but then he started getting a little weird. I didn't think much of it but I really should have just left then. We ended up going to a gay bar (I have no flippen clue) where I was then informed that Mr. Hot Pants was sometimes a regular and they thought I was super lucky to be bagging that one.
Oh yes lucky me! Well, the lower half of me thought so.
I ended up dropping him off at his place and headed back home. We had one more date which was similar and I think my lady bits were more interested then the rest of me and we all know that those lady bits run the show 9 times out of 10.
The third date, well.....it wasn't starting off too great. I was once again driving up there and got a text shortly before I left letting me know that he was going to be late to his own house. I was a little confused but told him to keep in touch. About an hour later I got a text saying he was on his way home and that I should head on up.
Well, head on up I did to discover a very already drunk Brandon.
Joy, once again, Joy.
He was supposed to cook me dinner for our date but I discovered he had just gone out to dinner with his buds.
Thanks asshole, thanks a lot.
We piled into my tiny car which was a little entertaining to watch with this giant of a man.
I drove him to the non gay bar, even though he was kind of wanting to go there, and we got some beers. I wasn't planning on really drinking since well, I was pissed. He started yelling at me while we were sitting there because I wouldn't smoke with him and that his ex fiance used to smoke a pack and a half a day with him.
Hold the phone.....ex-fiance?! This was a new one.
I apologized, I don't really understand why I had to do that, and told him I had lung issues. He then started to get pissed that I was nursing a beer because he felt I should be on his level of drunk. Buddy, you were drunk when I found you there was no way I was going to reach that level.
Then the scary part started to happen.
He started to cry.
I mean cry as in that cry where you can't really understand what they are mumbling to you.
I discovered in a very short period of time that he was engaged to this woman and that he was in major love and that they would get drunk together every night and smoke all the time and it was just a party. He ended up getting a job as a bouncer so he wasn't able to go out at nights due to work so she would go out without him. She met a guy, fell in love with guy, and ended up leaving Brandon.
Hold on, it gets more interesting.
He evidently got so mad when she was breaking up with him that he slammed his head through their TV. Since he decided to do that she informed him that she was taking THEIR SON and if he tried to follow them she would report him to the cops.
Yes, while Mr. Douche is crying in the middle of a bar I discover he has a child which he just happened to not mention at all.
I promptly pretended that I wasn't feeling well, stuffed him back in the car, and deposited him at his door to never speak to him again.
Yep, that's not the weirdest thing to happen to me either.