So, today is kind of a guest post. My friend and fellow blogger, who we'll call "Pixie Stick" (even though her real first name comes up in this story) messaged me yesterday with this absolutely hilarious story. It totally reminds me of something that would happen to Mindy Kaling on The Mindy Project (a show everyone should be watching if they're not already). Anyway, thanks to Pixie Stick for this because I totally didn't have anything to write about today...
I feel the need to tell you the story of what happened to me last night. I want to blog about it, but I’m worried that the person who is involved might one day find my blog and then be offended or something. So I’m telling you (potential blog fodder?) Because it’s just SO BAD and I feel like you’ll appreciate it.
Last night, I had a date. A few weeks ago I rescued a lost dog in downtown Cleveland. When his owner came to fetch him, I discovered that his owner was in fact a very cute single man. This fact eventually snowballed into him asking me out.
In my mind, this was the most ridiculously romantic thing that could have possibly happened. I could marry this man. It would be an adorable story and everyone would be jealous. Lucky me.
It was a COMPLETE disaster. I showed up and he was already a little bit tipsy. As the night progressed (keeping in mind that I met up with him at 6pm), he got totally smashed. He kept leaving me at the bar to go “take a piss” and “have a smoke”. Eventually we went back to his place, because it turns out that his roommate and I know each other from college. Once there, things got progressively worse. He kept begging me to stay and screaming my name right in my ear. This was an homage to the scene from The Dark Knight in which Harvey Dent is on the phone with Rachel while Bat Man has to choose which one of them to save, and Harvey keeps screaming “RAAACHEEELLL! RAACHHEEELL!”
Anyway, one thing led to another, and he decided to reenact that entire scene – playing all of the parts. For awhile it was just a hilarious hot mess while he rolled around on the floor, but then he tried to drip hot wax from a lit candle onto his face.
Please don’t ask me why. I don’t know. All I know is that I had to snatch the candle from him and blow it out before he hurt himself.
It was right around then that I decided it would probably be time to leave. He was clearly under the impression that the night had gone better than it actually had, because he kept telling me that I should stay over and wear the same clothes to work the next day, and no one would care, and it would be fantastic.
Needless to say, I left. And that was my night.
Oh, and he’s a teacher, but he works as a bar tender on Friday and Saturday nights so he has money to buy drugs.
I pick winners.