Note: The events in this entry happened years and years ago, but I’ve waited this long to protect the privacy of the individual involved. However, it’s too weird of a story not to share, and I want to share it before I forget all the glorious details. For sake of privacy I will refer to the girl involved as Mary. This story is as much about a terrible date as it is my complete lack of judgment. And so our story begins…
An ex-girlfriend of mine asked me to check out her profile on a dating website, but I couldn’t without my own account. I was single at the time, and figured why not give this a shot, so I created my own account. After reviewing her photos and assuring her that she didn’t look fat, I decided to the keep the account. This dating site, like many, required that you pay to actually contact people. “Fuck that,” I thought. I’m cheap, so I just left the profile alone and never checked on it again. A few weeks went by and I’d more or less forgotten that the account existed until I received an email.
“Mary would like to connect with you.”
I quickly signed into my account, and I saw her photos and read her profile. She played a couple instruments and wasn’t ugly, so I thought she might be cool, but not cool enough to pay money to contact. Thankfully I am as creepy as I am cheap, so I began searching for her email address using the extremely limited personal information on her profile. Jackpot! I managed to find her email, so I wrote her an email that went something like this:
“Mary,
I got your message on that dating site, but I don’t have a membership so I couldn’t contact you. I hope you’re not bothered by the fact I found your email address, but I thought you seemed cool. Would you like to talk sometime?– Alex”
She responded:
“Alex,
I’m not bothered at all. My screen name is xMaryx. I hope to hear from you soon.Mary”
We talked online for a bit and she seemed alright, so we exchanged numbers and decided to meet up at a movie theater. I arrived early, and waited for her in the movie theater’s parking lot when my phone rang:
“Where are you parked?”
– On the left side of the theater.
It was a simple question, but there was something off about her voice. I couldn’t quite place what was wrong until I saw her stagger out of her car in a fur lined coat and a cowboy-esque hat. “Oh great, she’s a little drunk,” I thought to myself. We stood in line to get tickets to the movie, and we ended getting tickets to a terrible horror movie. I can’t remember the name, but it was awful. We had plenty of time to kill before the movie, so we started talking.
“Do I look like what I look like on my webcam?” She asked me loudly as we waited in a high foot traffic area.
OK, before you get the wrong idea, she had a personal website that had a webcam. At the time, the fact that she owned a personal site was cool because it was something we had in common. Anyhow, while having a webcam is a really vain thing, it’s not that weird for a girl to have a webcam on her website. Now I’m not sure if anyone that passed by heard her, but it made me feel like I was with a prostitute.
After the movie, we went out to her car and talked for a bit, and she didn’t seem that bad as she sobered up. We said our goodbyes and I went home. By most people’s standards going on a first date of sorts with a drunk is bad, but I was single and lonely, so when she contacted me a week later I was more or less down to hang out again. This time the plan was to meet up at a bar in Boston, and while I hated the idea I went along with it as long as it wasn’t going to be some big thing.
My office phone rang around 4pm and it was Mary, and she sounded fucking destroyed. She was barely intelligible. She’s barely intelligible at 4pm on a Wednesday. After a lot of fumbling with her phone she told me she was not in Boston at all, but in a bar that was about 45 minutes away. Not only was the bar not in Boston it was also some sort of office get together, and definitely a big thing. I told her that it was too far, and that maybe we could hang out another time. She passed her phone off to a friend.
“She wants you to come to the bar. I think you could get lucky if you get over here.”
– No, that’s OK. I can’t make it there tonight.
“Alex come to the bar,” I heard a bunch of drunk people at the bar exclaim in unison.
At this point the phone call transformed into a weird nightmare. The phone was passed around to more and more people that encouraged me to come down to bar so that I could plow her field, but I repeatedly passed on the offer. After an hour of no calls, my phone rang one last time.
“Dude, I’m here waiting with Mary for you to come pick her up.”
– Listen, I don’t mean to be a dick and put you out, but I’m not coming down to pick her up. I don’t know why she told you I’d be coming. Can you put Mary on the phone?
The phone is passed to Mary.
“Hey Alex, I’m lonely will you come down here and bring me back to your place?”
– No, you’re really drunk and need to go home and get some rest. Let me speak to your friend.
Before she passed off the phone to him, I heard her say to him that I’d be down any minute to pick her up. I assured him that I would not be there and that he should drive her home. He finally agreed, and that was the last I heard from her that night. Now look, I’m a total creep, but even I won’t try take advantage of a completely drunk girl (at least if I’m sober).
Let’s recap shall we? The only time I’ve hung out with this girl she was drunk, and then the second time we had planned to hang out she was even drunker. A normal person would call these “red flags,” but I am not a normal person.
OK, so another week goes by and I was still in bed on a Sunday when my phone rang. I saw that it was Mary so I didn’t pick up. Then she sent me a text. Then I got an email from her. Then she called again, and by this point I couldn’t get back to sleep so I answered the phone.
– What?
“Do you want to hang out?”
– OK, but on one condition. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to go to a bar. I don’t want to go to the movies. I want to sit on my couch and watch TV today. That’s all I want to do. If you’re fine with coming over here and watching TV then we can do that.
“That’s fine with me.”
We decided to meet up at the movie theater’s parking lot, but it was a really busy that Sunday and the police had closed the movie theater’s parking lot. “No problem,” I thought, “I’ll just park next door and call Mary to let her know the change in plans.”
– Hey Mary, it’s Alex, the police closed the movie theater’s parking lot so I’m in the parking lot next door to the movie theater.
“Whaaaaaa? How do I get there from here?”
– Uh… it’s right next to the movie theater…
Ok, so for review. In the 40 minutes it took me to drive from my apartment to the movie theater she went from being sober to being so drunk she didn’t understand the direction, “next door.”
How do I get next door?
She pulled into the parking lot and parked next to me at 90 degree angle and then got out of her car and ran over to my window.
“I need to straighten out my car.”
– Uh OK…
Then I heard the sound of metal being crushed as she somehow managed to drive her car into mine while she backed out of her parking spot. She got out of her car and got into mine with a package of cigarettes, mints, and an open bottle of Bacardi. I think the only reason I didn’t boot her from my car at that moment was because I knew I’d eventually write this entry, and I wanted a good story. While we on on the highway she decided to start cover my eyes.
– Stop! We’re going to die if you keep that up.
She stopped and the rest of the ride was uneventful. We got to my apartment around 4pm, and she immediately went into my bedroom.
“You have so many guitars!”
– Let me know if you want to hold one, I’ll get it for you.
“Hey, what’s this?” She asked while looking at my microphone.
– It’s a microphone.
“Hey, what’s this?” She asked while looking at the same microphone.
– It’s a microphone.
“So what is this?” She asked while still looking at the same microphone.
– It’s still a microphone.
“Is it on?”
– ……yeaaaah….
“No it’s not.”
She then bumped into my guitars and one of them fell over, and then she started to come towards me. I put my arms to block her advance, and as she stumbled forward one of her arms flailed out and scratched the left side of my face.
“Can I smoke?”
– Sure
I handed her a wine glass that she could use as an ash tray. She took a few drags on the cigarette, and then wandered into the bedroom and collapsed on my bed. After a couple minutes she got up and stumbled back into the living room, and said something I don’t think I’ll ever forget for as long as I live.
“How can a guy with so many guitars be single?”
I knew this was my out, and thinking quickly I said, “I have a girlfriend.” This of course was a complete lie, but knew this one sentence would put an end to the chaos in the apartment.
“What?!?! Your girlfriend let’s you have women over without her around.”
– She trusts me.
She moved in closer.
“Can we make out anyhow,” she asked. As she exhaled a dense cloud of nicotine, spearmint, and rum filled my nostrils.
– No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.
“Please! She’ll never find out!”
– No!
It was at this point that she started to cry.
– Would you like to go home?
“Yes…”
Crying apparently sobers a person up because she managed to walk to my car just fine, and as we were getting in my car she asked:
“Do you think I should get back with my boyfriend?”
– I have no idea.
She passed out cold. I turned on the radio and drove back to the parking lot where we had left her car. When we got to the parking lot I pulled her out out my car and dragged her across the parking lot towards her car.
“It was nice meeting you.”
– Whatever…
I drove off into sunset, and I never heard from her again.