#2

A few weeks ago, I went to one of my new favorite bars in my area with a couple of friends. We were sitting on the back deck area watching a funny video online that my friend had never seen (it was a pretty slow night) when these two guys came up and asked if they could sit with us. Considering the fact that, as I just mentioned, it was a slow night, and the fact that one of the guys had already sat down, we let them sit with us.

They both ended up being pretty cool guys and we hung out with them for about an hour before they had to go. The guy that sat next to me was pretty cute, so when he asked for my number I figured ‘sure, why not?’

As they were heading out we all stood up to give friendly hugs goodbye, and as I stood up the guy I gave my number to looked up at me and said “wow, you’re tall.”

I’m 5’2 1/2″…5’3″ on a good day.

That is the first time ANYONE has told me I was tall. Ever. And I’ve definitely never heard that come out of a man’s mouth before. But I was a little tipsy, so I ignored the comment.

The next day, he reached out and asked if I wanted to come to his place…he wanted to cook me dinner. I told him that I wasn’t comfortable going to a relative stranger’s house (call me old fashioned) but that I’d be happy to meet up for a drink in a public place.

He agreed.

So we decided on a place in our area.

It took a little longer to get there than I thought, mainly because I was looking for the place for a good 5 minutes before I realized I was on the wrong street (don’t judge me). I called him to tell him I was running a little late, and he said he was ’10 minutes away.

20 minutes later he showed up. And he was shorter than I remembered. I’m SO glad I wore flat boots.

We sat at the bar, ordered some drinks and started talking. The conversation went really well – lots of laughs, etc. – with the exception of a few things:

1. He acted like he was  so tight with the bartender, and the bartender acted like he barely knew him.

2. He got distracted – a lot. Once he asked a woman about her ring mid-conversation (he’s a jewelry designer – not an excuse but just to give some background). Once he interrupted me mid-sentence because he saw a woman he swore he saw walking down the street the day before. He then proceeded to have a conversation with said woman, and asked me to put her number in her phone incase we (him and I) wanted to meet up with her friends later.

3. His phone rang 3 times in a row from the same number. He had the phone sitting face up on the bar, so of course I glanced at it every time it rang. And each time it was the same woman’s name. On the 3rd ring, he said “I’m sorry I have to take this” and went outside to answer.

4. He grabbed my arm while we were talking and noticed that they were pretty toned. He then asked me, what do you weigh? About 158? (I don’t know what it is with guys asking me my weight. See previous post, Heavy Lifter). Considering the fact that I’m pretty short and small framed, AND had just recently lost 10 lbs, I was really offended by the 158 question.

Are you serious? You think I weigh 158??

Well I don’t know, you’re really toned and I know muscle weighs more than fat so…

No, I don’t weigh 158. How much do YOU weigh??

I’m 158.

You think I weigh as much as you??? (In hindsight – considering this guy was about my height and probably a few jeans sizes LESS than me, that might make sense).

I don’t know I’m not good at guessing weight.

No. I weigh 130. But thanks. *guzzles wine*

After he payed for the bill (yes, he did at least do that right) we walked to a lounge near by. I had nothing else to do with my night, and I was tipsy enough that I was OK with another couple of hours with this dude.

On our way, he stopped at a corner store to grab a red bull, and bought me one.

No thanks, I don’t drink Red Bull. It gives me heart palpitations.

Red Bull gives everyone heart palpitations, isn’t that the point?

Well, I’m not a fan. And my Mom had to get surgery to correct an issue she had with recurring heart palpitations so I try to just avoid it if I can. Also, I think Red Bull tastes like shit.

I handed it back to him, thinking he would just throw it out, but instead he chugged the one he had, opened the one I gave him, and chugged that one. Gross.

We got to the lounge, and it was very loud and very packed. After we grabbed our drinks (him: one shot and one whiskey drink. Me: one glass of red wine), we made our way through the crowd to find a seat. As he tried to get past one (tall-ish) woman, he lightly tapped her to let her know he was coming past to the left of her. She turned and literally jumped when she looked down and saw him at shoulder level. She then turned and laughed with one of her friends.

Hopefully he didn’t notice, but I was mortified for him.

The rest of the night went alright. We had a couple drinks, dance a bit. Then it got too crowded and I started to get tired, so we headed out.

On our way home ( we live near each other) he stopped at the corner store and grabbed ANOTHER Red Bull. Then he took off his blazer and draped it around my shoulders after I had JUST commented on how nice it was outside. I told him I wasn’t cold, took off the blazer and handed it to him. Then he said “can you hold it for me?”

Uh..OK. I figured he just meant hold it while he was opening his Red Bull. But no…he had me holding that damn thing far after he was finished with his drink. Eventually I got a little annoyed and said “here I don’t want to hold your jacket anymore.”

We got to my apartment and he asked if I lived with a roommate.

No. I live alone

How’s that working out for you?

It’s great, I love it.

Can I come up and see your place?

Nope.

Why not? Just because I come up, doesn’t mean we have to have sex.

Oh well we’re definitely not having sex. That’s 100% not happening. But you’re not coming up either.

Why not?

Because there’s no need for you to come up to my apartment at 2:30 in the morning.

He left it alone.

Then he started squeezing my forearm, so I asked him what he was doing.

You have really big forearms.

What??! No I don’t. I have small arms.

No you don’t! Look (he puts his arm over mine) your forearms eclipse mine.

Are you serious? First of all, as a man you should NEVER, EVER point out that a woman has bigger arms than you. Not only do you risk the chance of making the woman feel bad, but more importantly you unknowingly emasculate yourself. This guy is already miniature. Pointing out that he could have potentially shopped at the Baby Gap was probably not his best move.

Then he went on about how beautiful he thought I was (still not coming up to my apartment, buddy) and asked me I thought my best physical feature was.

I don’t know. Maybe my legs…no my smile. People like my smile I’ll go with that.

Then he asked me to smile.

No. I’ve laughed enough times tonight for you to see my smile.

Then he made a big production at looking at my legs (I was wearing a skirt).

Ehh…they’re legs. And a lot of people have nice smiles. I think your best physical feature is these lines you get near your mouth when you smile. They’re not because you have high cheekbones. They’re just a part of your face. Not everyone has that. I think that’s your best physical feature.

What?!

So you ask me to tell you what I like about myself. Then when I tell you, you say…no you’re wrong, those things suck. I really like the lines in your face.

I can’t. Goodbye.

Oh…and I decided to Google him a couple of days later, and found a wordpress blog post about him. Apparently he lied. He said that he’s been here for less than a year when according to the blog (and his LinkedIn profile) he’s really been here over 2 years. Also, that number that was calling…that he eventually left our ‘date’ to answer? Yeah…it was the same name as a woman mentioned in the post, described as his “long-time girlfriend and future fiance.

Loser.

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4 thoughts on “#2

  1. Wow. Just… wow.
    I don’t know what’s going on with men in the world, but someone, somewhere, is growing them wrong. Especially the short ones. And why are there SO many short ones now? I am 5 ft, so really I have no place to complain about men being short, but geez.

  2. Pingback: Lingo, Language, Linguistics | Chronicles of the Romantically Challenged

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