Real stories about dating and relationships in New York City. Truth is more interesting than fiction.

The Straw, Part 2

Good morning folks. This week’s Guy’s Story is part 2 of The Straw from my twitter friend MemoirsOfASingleDad (@M_oa_SD). Click here for Part 1.

The Straw

Part 2

The Aftermath
To understand the rest of this date, you have to know a little bit about martinis. Martinis at this particular establishment are served in a martini glass (duh), but also come with the shaker with another full martini glass worth of drink. So, basically you get two for every drink your order. We ordered a round of and two appetizers to share. I had the first half of mine (chocolate, of course) and she had the first half of hers (Hawaiian something-or-other) and we shared the portion that was in the shakers. We talked, nibbled our appetizers, people-watched and sipped our . She asked if I’d like another round. It was still early – barely 9pm at this point, so I agreed. So, once again we shared our and the night went on. And so came the third round. “I’ll pass on this one. I have to drive.” I said. It was 10 o’clock by this time and I didn’t want to chance it. I can be a bit of a lightweight sometimes. She ordered herself another round and polished it off in about thirty minutes.

Then came the fourth round. I passed again. Hers disappeared in less than twenty minutes. If you can imagine the look on my face as I watched her down these martinis – have you ever seen the face of an animal before a car strikes it? That was me; on both accounts.

“I have to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” she said. “Whew! A reprieve!” I thought. Maybe she will sober up a little since I’m pretty sure she won’t be drinking in the restroom. It’s hard enough to have a conversation with a drunken person that you know. It’s even more difficult when you don’t know them. As she stood up, she began to wobble a bit. “I’m ok.” she said, reassuring me. She turned and headed for the restroom in the back of the restaurant. As she walked away, I watched her bounce off of other patrons on her way through the high-top tables that surround the bar area. The calm before the storm was upon us…

She stumbled back and was suddenly a very talkative and friendly . The four rounds she had polished in the past two hours had finally caught up to her. She asked me if I liked her dress (a yellow-ish sun dress with flowers on it). She asked me if I’d like to see her underwear and if I’ve ever had a lap dance before. Yes, I have, but not at this particular bar and I wasn’t about to start now. “Please sit back down. You’re going to get us kicked out.” I pleaded. After some coaxing (and some tugging on her dress to keep it down) she sat. The worst was over. Or so I thought. She began to sob. The sob turned into a cry and the cry into a full-on wail. Yes, my date was sitting across from me wailing like a tornado siren. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you!” I *believe* I heard between the breaths. I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to the hostess’s desk and asked her to flag a cab. Thankfully, taxi cabs were lying in wait on the other side of the parking lot. We ushered her into the cab and I paid the cab fare – I wasn’t about to start digging through a woman’s purse for money. With apologetic eyes, I thanked the hostess and went back and asked for the check. I paid the $95 tab but was grateful for the date to be over at this point. I would have paid double that, easily, just to get the hell out of there. After I had my fill of (sympathetic and glaring) glances, I headed home myself.

Meagan’s online profile was gone the next day and I heard from her only once more after that. She wrote me an apology Email explaining how she was under a tremendous amount of stress at home in her relationship. “The truth is…” she admits, “my husband and I aren’t separated. I was waiting for him to leave town on business to meet you. I’m soooo sorry.” Obviously this was a very telling fact she failed to mention before the date. I understood what may have prompted her to behave the way she did but that didn’t excuse it. I never replied to that Email. She clearly had a lot of issues she had to work through and nothing I had to say would be of any help at that point.

And that, my friends, was the final straw.

The Lesson of the Day
I admit this date was quite the setback for me. It took me some time to recover from this experience. My dating instincts had let me down, big time. Everything I thought I knew about my ability to pre-screen people I was meeting was a sham. In reality, I knew nothing about peoples’ dating behavior and, more importantly, their motivations to behave the way they do.

Of course, Meagan committed a cardinal sin and went out of her marriage before the marriage was actually over. That’s probably not the best way to start out any relationship. I should probably feel blessed that things didn’t work out for her and I. It was a whole lot easier to deal with things after one date than after becoming more emotionally intertwined with her and her situation.

The lesson learned was really not a new lesson (to me or anyone) but more like a reminder. The lesson was that people lie. Sometimes they’re little white lies and other times they’re big, huge, damaging lies. Sometimes people have their reasons while other times their only reason seems to be for the sport of it. No one is completely honest 100% of the time, including yours truly, but I resolved to find myself that isn’t afraid to tell the truth.

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2 to “The Straw, Part 2”

  1. G/W says:

    What a trooper. Good on you for getting through it. I hope she worked out all her crap, it sounds like she’s neck high in it.

  2. Maybe your instincts didn’t fail you at all. You seem like an upright fellow, and even though your date was confused, and dishonest with you, she was also, for better or worse, in your hands. Maybe she never really wanted the date, so much as she wanted to spend time with someone nice; to put herself in the hands of another man, or the hands of fate itself, not so much for what she thought she would get out of it, but for where she would find herself. Anywhere but here, that sort of thing. It sounds to me like you were the perfect gentleman to watch over her.
    I do not condone how she acted, honesty in my book is always a preferred companion, but sometimes the universe throws you in a mess because you are fit to help. I say, sorry you didn’t get your date, and on the other hand, well done, sir.