about bad dates and funny stories continues

I’ve had good feedback for the first installment of my online dating experiences.  There were a few private messages concerning my conduct and how I should be more careful.  I totally agree with my friends about that.  Never, never should I have had someone pick me up at my home.  Never ever should I give out my phone number so fast.  Never, ever, NEVER get into a stranger’s van no matter how much I think I can take him.  I really did learn my lessons and haven’t done it again.  Lucky for me, there was no harm done and I won’t risk a next time.

So let’s talk about Bobby; a piece of work for sure.  Again, a man who’s older than I; 62 to my 50.  Charming on the phone and online.  Musician, articulate, educated. He had an incredible speaking voice.  We talked for at least a week before I agreed to meet him. There must have been warning signals that I missed or ignored.

I met him at the casino where we were going to have tea at the restaurant.  I made it first and sat down in the lobby to wait for him.  A nice looking man came up to me and, after saying my name, held out his hand for me to take.  His hair was dyed jet black and he was balding on top, confirming my original suspicion that the picture he sent me was more than 10 years old.  We walked into the restaurant already laughing with each other and happy to finally meet in person.  That lasted 2 minutes.  We approached the hostess.

Bobby explained, rather loudly and in an almost threatening voice he wanted a quiet table as he was fixing to seduce his woman.  Uh oh.  The other waitresses thought he was charming and giggled at him while the hostess looked for just the right table while he nattered about seclusion and time alone.  She seemed to have spotted one and led us to it.  Right away Bobby didn’t like it.  He felt it was in a potentially busy area.

He kept complaining about the table especially when a group sat down at a booth 2 tables away.  He was so angry and wanted to leave the place altogether.  I wouldn’t go though.  He demanded the waiter move us to a better table.  He gave the poor guy so much flack.  He pointed out several areas to Bobby.  None would work for him.  It was all a conspiracy of some kind.  At this point I was dying inside.  I haven’t even had any tea yet!

The waiter finally let Bobby decide where to sit.  He looked carefully around the restaurant and chose one in an area that looked closed off.  Again they bickered.  Finally, the manager came over and said to just go ahead and sit there.  Behind Bobby’s back, the manager gave me a very solemn nod.  I knew he was keeping his eye on Bobby.  Our tea finally arrived.

I was not impressed by how badly he treated everyone; how loud and belligerent he was when he didn’t get his way.  More than one person there rolled their eyes and ground their teeth.  I couldn’t wait for this to end.

I asked  him questions about his kids who were all grown and about his grandkids.  It was easy to tell he did not want to talk about them.  Meanwhile, he wanted to know all about my illness and what some of the symptoms were.

In no time, of course, he got around to talking about sex.

His feet, sans shoes, ran up and down my legs.  He complained endlessly about the people around us, convinced they were hovering just to listen to our conversation.  I explained to him that he parked us on the other side of the half-wall where the buffet was.  He also suspected that the waitresses, who were busing tables near us, were only doing so to listen in and spy on us. He gave anyone who passed within 12 feet of our table the evil eye and I think he even growled once or twice.  I know he did shout at  someone to mind their own business and move along.

Bobby seemed to have some kind of personality disorder.  I may even guess it’s not regulated by medication of any kind.

After barely an hour, I explained I had to go cook supper for my family and thank you for the lovely time.  He wanted me to pay for the tea but ended up doing it himself.  He started walking with me to the door of the casino.  I told him it was only 5:00 and I could find my car fine.  He insisted he wanted to make sure I got there safely (ha!) and he wanted to spend some more time with me.  On the way to my car he asked if he could call me for a second date.  I hemmed and hawed a bit and said sure, thinking I would just turn him down when he called.  I didn’t want to see what happened to him if he was rejected in public.

As we walked, he yelled at cars to get out of our way, made rude noises at people and generally was a humongous embarrassment.  He held fast to my hand and literally steered me everywhere.  I finally found my car while fending off his questions of what was the biggest penis I ever saw, how many times have I had an orgasm and do I really have a 6 date rule.

At my car I thought to dump my purse in the car right away, figuring I would need both arms to defend myself.  I hung on to my keys though. Bobby tenderly asked me if he could have a hug.  I said sure and gave him a very sisterly hug.

Not so bad.

As I pulled away and started to say goodbye there was his tongue straight down my throat without any preliminaries whatsoever.  He slammed me up against my car with his hands on my backside, grinding against me.  I fought him off pretty easily.  He finally let go of my teeth long enough for me to say “noseconddatenotonyourlife” at which point there was his tongue again.  I just couldn’t believe it.

I finally got him off me and far enough away for me to get into my car and lock it.  He was knocking on the window, grinning and concerned at the same time.  “Can I call you tonight?  I’d like us to do something tonight. I really like you Marie.  C’mon!”

Unfrickinbelievable

No I didn’t hear from him again and I’m so grateful. I decided then and there that I’m going to be the one to seek out someone next time instead of me being “selected”.  It’s funny too, how I always thought I liked it when somebody picked me first.

Part 3 will be coming on soon.  I hope one of these segments will have a happy ending!