Captain Drunk Skunk

Everyone's been telling me that I need to try to go on actual grown-up dates that don't involve Netflix, texts after 10 PM and/or excessive amounts of alcohol so to try to appease the masses, I accepted a dinner invitation from an older, seemingly more mature, guy. He was cute and seemed to have his life together. He was ambitious in his career, owned his own house and seemed to actually function as a normal member of society so naturally, I was suspicious and my friends/family were enthused.

We decided to meet up at a brewery/restaurant downtown that I was slightly familiar with and I walked in only feeling slightly nervous that the date would implode. He smiled adorably and gave me a big hug, like it was excellent to see me, which of course, it should have been considering the ridiculous amount of time I had spent picking out my outfit and straightening my hair.

When the hostess sat us down, he pulled out my chair and although, I thought it was a little cheesy, I smiled and thanked him. 

So far so good, right?

Wrong.

Always assume that it's wrong.

I had barely opened my menu before he asked, "So are you more of a 'yeah I love to be single' girl or someone who's looking for the white picket fence and a bunch of babies? I'm not going to lie, girls get really attached to me really easily."

I was hoping he was being sarcastic. I was WAITING for him to grin at the end of that rant, but instead, he just tilted his head and said, "I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I'm just the guy that every girl wants to marry, I guess."

Luckily, the server approached to ask us for our drink orders so I had time to process that overly-inflated egotistical little gem. 

He ordered a double Jack on the rocks, commenting about how he'd already had two before coming out to dinner. Trying to bring classy back to the date, I ordered a glass of red wine and hoped that it would make the next hour or so bearable.

"I'm not trying to get married anytime soon. It will happen when it's supposed to," I provided, "I haven't really met anyone that I could see myself marrying so it'll probably be different when I do."

"Cool. So what do you do for fun?" he tossed out, barely glancing at the server when he set our drinks down on the table. I smiled and said thanks to the waiter before mentioning that I was a writer, I liked to read and just grab a few beers and chill with my friends.

"I don't read," he laughed, "I hate that shit. Seriously, I don't read at all."

Can I just say that is one of my biggest pet peeves, because he obviously reads SOMETIMES. He's not 29 years old and illiterate. He just doesn't happen to enjoy reading, which is fine, but saying that you "don't read at all" is ridiculous. You read street signs and text messages and Facebook and you have to read emails for your job so...no...just stop. You ignorant fuck.

After a few more minutes of painfully simple conversation, we ordered our food and two shots. Both for him. Our server asked me if I wanted another glass of wine, because unfortunately, I'd downed my first one like I was dying of thirst in the desert.

Before I could even open my mouth to say yes, he provided for me, "She wants a Cosmo and... what the hell, let's get another shot."

"I don't want a Cosmo or a shot," I corrected to our server, who at this point looked like he felt bad enough for me that he wanted to take me out on a date himself just so I would remember that there are decent guys in the world, "But another glass of wine would be awesome. Thank you."

"That's fucking lame, take a shot with me," he implored, "If I'm going to go to the trouble of buying you dinner and taking you out somewhere nice, the least you could do is drink with me."

The server looked horrified and didn't say anything so Captain Drunk Skunk just repeated the order in an excessively loud and rude tone.

When I finally agreed to take one shot with my glass of wine (no Cosmo for me ever, k thanks), he proceeded to launch into a bunch of excessive information about his job, using technical terms on purpose and then taking dramatic pauses whenever I didn't respond to assure me, "It's okay, it's really complicated. Not many people understand what I do." 

When the server arrived with our food and, sadly, our drinks, he asked me politely if I needed anything else. Most of his interactions with our table at this point were aimed towards me because Captain Drunk Skunk was being a total asshole to him. When I opened my sweet little mouth to request a side of sour cream for my towering plate of nachos, Captain Drunk Skunk started to complain about his food OVER me. Food that he had not even tasted yet.

To be fair, our sever handled it like a champ and Jedi-mindtricked him into believing his food was perfect, although that may have had something to do with his extreme state of drunkenness at this point. He was 'stumble in to the kitchen at 3:00 am because you just got home and eat handfuls of cereal out the box' drunk.

I ate my nachos and gulped down some more wine, my fingers itching to text my friends and let them know that we had yet another epic fail on our hands. I even started to think of nicknames for this blog post while still at dinner because he was being THAT much of a douche. Every single topic that you're really not supposed to talk about on a first date... he approached with the grace and tact of a bulldozer mating with a rhino. Oy.

The server brought over the check and after making a show of grabbing it, Drunk Skunk shoved his debit card into the bill and slammed it down on the table dramatically.

"Just sign for me, okay? Then, we'll go back to my place," he winked, he ACTUALLY winked, like closed one of his eyes in what he thought was a seductive manner and then looked over to where our server was standing, "She's going to sign for me whenever you get around to bringing my fucking card back."

The server returned with the card and handed me the bill, looking like he REALLY wanted to say something so instead of making him debate whether or not to be professional, I provided, "What a fucking douche, right?"

"He's AWFUL," he laughed, "I was hoping he wasn't your boyfriend or anything."

"No, first and LAST date," I promised, grabbing the pen and making a half-hearted attempt at signing a legible signature.

"Did you drive with him?" he asked in a worried tone.

"No and I'm going to grab a cab back to my car so no worries. I'm so sorry that he was such a dick to you, too. But have a REALLY good night," I finished, underlining a 30.00 tip with a huge grin and pushing it to where he could see. 

We legit high-fived and I walked outside to find Drunk Skunk and give him back his card, thinking that my evil over-tipping was going to be the punchline of this particular story. He was slumped against the wall, smoking a cigarette and when I stopped in front of him with my hand offering up the debit card, he just took his free hand and tried to run it through my hair.

"Come on, let's go to my place," he slurred while I once again removed his hand from where he had awkwardly laid it against my neck, moving his fingers in what I'm assuming was supposed to be provocative manner. It actually just felt like some oversized toddler was clumsily attempting to tickle me while simultaneously trying to maintain his balance.

"I'm going to go home. I think you should probably head home, too," I supplied, looking down the street where a few police officers were having a pow-wow. Feeling slightly more protected (although Captain Drunk Skunk wouldn't have actually posed much of a threat in his state of shitshow), I repeated, "I'm going to go home. You should get a cab."

"Fuck THAT!" He screamed, "FUCK going home, we're going to get FUCKING drunk!"

The cops looked over at us and his unfocused eyes finally noticed that there were three police officers standing directly across the street from us now. Apparently, the two brain cells still unaffected by the inordinate amount of whiskey he drank bounced together, because he appeared to struggle to act sober.


"Shh," he hissed to me. For the record, I had been entirely silent since the moment he had deafened me with his latest burst of profanity so I just rolled my eyes and produced an unladylike snort. In response, he proceeded to grab my face with both of his hands and kiss me suddenly with so much force, I thought he had potentially broken my nose.

Escaping the slobbery face assault, I pushed him off of me, which shouldn't have caused him to fall on the ground and act like he'd been laid out by a sumo wrestler. It SHOULDN'T have. But it did. Past caring, I turned around to leave and two seconds later, Captain Drunk Skunk had latched onto my arm, pulling on it hard. I was turning around to not-so-politely tell him to get the hell off of me when one of the friendly police officer handled it for me.

"Hey, get your hands off of her. Is that how you treat a woman?" He questioned, physically removing him a little further down the sidewalk, while one of his partners approached me like I was a skittish kitten.

"Are you alright?" He questioned and while I was trying to explain that I was perfectly fine as long as they were going to make sure that he didn't drive, I heard the other two officers asking him questions, one of which was whether or not I was his girlfriend.

He replied, "No, she's not my girlfriend. Maybe my girlfriend for the night."

I literally almost face-palmed right in front of the cop but instead, I looked back to where he was standing in front of me, looking very sympathetic. He repeated his question that I must have missed the first time, "He's not your boyfriend, but you do know him?"

"Not very well. This was our first date," I admitted, "For some reason, he got really drunk at dinner. I was going to go home and I told him to take a cab. He's definitely not good to drive."

"Do you want to press any charges?" he asked me, "We saw him accost you."

When I declined, he gave me a well-meaning squeeze of the elbow and walked over to where his two buddies were now trying to have a conversation with Captain Drunk Skunk who had taken a seat on the curb and seemed to be attempting to both shake his head 'no' and nod 'yes' at the same time. Which basically meant he was moving his head in a circle.

"You're a lucky guy. That gracious young lady decided to not press charges against you for grabbing her and forcing yourself on her like that, but we're going to need you to get a cab and find your way home safely. Do you have money for a cab or do we need to call a ride for you?" My Officer Friendly started, although at the words 'press charges', Drunk Skunk started to loudly protest.

"That bitch said I grabbed her?" he screeched out finally, "I didn't put hands on her."

Officer Friendly scoffed, "We saw you. You owe her an apology for that and for using foul language towards her."

Officer Friendly's buddy, Deputy Means Well beckoned me over to stand next to them. Flanked by the law, they attempted to make him mutter out an apology in what I assume was the last great act of chivalry I'll ever see. Unfortunately, Drunk Skunk was not sober enough to realize what was happening and stood up to protest even more loudly that I was lying about him grabbing me. And when the officers began to physically sit him back down, he revolted like he'd been simultaneously set on fire and stung by thousands of bees and lurched towards me.

In front of three armed police officers.

Five minutes later, I was watching two police officers load my date into the back of their police car while the third police officer (I think it was Deputy Means Well) patted me on the back murmuring "Well, you know... there are plenty of fish in the sea. There are plenty *patpat* of fish *pat* in the sea."

And yes, he DID contact me the next morning after spending a not-so-comfortable night in county. He apologized, blamed blacking out and asked, "Do you think you could ever give me a second chance?"

:) xoxo lolly