Friday, December 26, 2008

All I Want for Christmas is a Restraining Order

As I mentioned in my last post, I had a date lined up with a guy called Psych Ward.

Susan commented that she was a little concerned about his name....which made me chuckle a little to myself. You see, the reason I named him Psych Ward is because of his profession. However, Susan is a smart cookie, and had reason to be worried, as I will illustrate for you now.

Psych Ward and I had plans to meet up at my favorite bar (note to everyone, do NOT take a first-time date to your favorite bar-a) you don't want your beloved bartenders to think you're actually WITH this person and b) your favorite bar will never, ever be safe again, since said person now knows where you hang out and can stalk you). Psych Ward is very attractive, which I think he spends most of his life using to his advantage. He seemed disheveled, but I cut him some slack as it was snowing out and he had commuted in from LI. Fair enough.

He did, however, reek heavily of Marlboro Reds, and everytime he went to the bathroom he would come back smelling like he had rolled around in an ashtray. I finally asked him if he was smoking in the bathroom, to which he gave me a boyish grin and admitted that indeed, he was.

He then proceeded to down several beers chased with shots of JD. One, two, three went down his gullet. The date was only an hour in and he was wasted and I was bored.

He suddenly became an octopus of gigantic proportions...all eight of his hands were groping at me while we sat at the bar. I kept shoving him off of me and actually told him right out that i didn't feel a love connection so I did not want him touching me. He retreated like a naughty puppy being punished for pooping in the house, but then five minutes later it was as if he'd completely forgotten about our previous conversation and started groping me all over again.

Marlboro tinged kisses kept coming my way. I kept telling him I did not want to kiss him. Why I stayed I have no idea. I don't know if it was because it was Saturday night and I didn't want to slink home at 9pm with my tail between my legs...or because I felt bad that he had taken the LIRR in just to meet me in the snow, or if he was just that pathetic that I didn't have the heart to just stupidly, I joined him in his intoxication and somehow the night was weirdly salvaged.

That is NOT to say that I was going to ever go out with him again.

I knew he was going to call...and I figured when he did I would let him know that I had a nice time but I didn't think we were a of luck...blah blah blah. Like any normal person would do, I have manners, I'm not a bitch.

He didn't call for several days, and I thought I might be off the hook...and then, there it was, the voicemail I'd been dreading.

"I want to take you out again. This weekend."

No, no no no all sorts of HELL NO.

I fully admit that I avoided calling him back, but in all fairness, it's Christmas week, and it's busy.

Yesterday, Christmas Day, he sent me several emails, and called me SEVEN times. The messages he left were so long that my voicemail was cutting him off. I have to wonder how long he still rambled before realizing he was talking to thin air. He accused me of screening my calls. He diagnosed himself on my voice mail. He diagnosed ME on my voicemail (apparently I have self-esteem issues). He gave me all the reasons why we should be together. He tried to get me jealous by telling me he was being pursued by another woman. He told me I was a bullshitter. He cursed, cajoled, pleaded, analyzed. It was horrifying and entertaining all at once. I didn't know whether to laugh or call the cops.

It never even occurred to him that it was Christmas, and the reason that I hadn't picked up my phone was because I was spending the day with my family. It was like that episode of Seinfeld, where George leaves 500 messages on his date's machine, getting more and more angry that she's not calling him back, and it turns out that she had been away for the weekend and never checked her messages.

Except that was a really funny episode.


kristen said...



i hope you saved those voicemails...

Bobby_2010 said...

DAMN!!! At least he doesn't know where you live...right? :O and you can always find a new favorite bar...just for your own personal safety...and the restraining order may be a bit much at this point...but then again, he sounds slightly crazed!!!

i like cheese said...

Kristen-of course I did. And since yesterday, he has left me two more :)

Bobby-no restraining order but definitely laying low for a while!

Susan said...

OMG. And I had just worked up the courage to start dating again. Psych Ward just talked me right out of that one! Did you save the voice messages? Can you play them for us? Please, please, pretty please?!?

Susan said...

Oh, man. I *so* wish I wasn't that smart of a cookie. Normally, I'm not! :-|

The Dutchess of Kickball said...

Wow. I think he might have been lying to you when he said he works in a Psych Ward, sounds more like he lives there. Good luck not "running into him" at your favorite bar. If he ends up showing up there you might have to make nice with the bouncer.

i like cheese said...

Susan-hell yea I saved those voice messages! I'm going to need to play them for the cops when I file a complaint!

Susan2-you were right on the money, my friend :)

Dutchess-I can pretty much guarantee that I will be staying far, far away from that particular bar from here on in!