Last week I had the best, worst date of my life. I know that’s confusing, so let me explain.
Four months ago, after a year and a half of separation, I once again found myself in the inbox, and eventually the arms of my ex boyfriend, Poodle. No matter how long we are apart, the undeniable and once in a lifetime chemistry between us has made it virtually impossible for me to resist him or any sort of temptation when it comes to him. After a hot and heavy four month fling, we once again realized that things will never work out between us and we cut off all communication, including virtual Yahtzee. Apparently we haven’t hurt each other enough the eight other times we have broken up over the past four years. I guess we both needed to tear each others hearts out and tap dance all over them one last time to really feel like we had closure between us. The worst part of having a completely shattered heart, is there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. You can’t take any medication to make it heal faster. You can’t ignore it. Your broken heart follows you around and haunts you constantly no matter what you are doing. The only thing that can truly heal a broken heart is time.
After a couple of days of reliving the gut-wrenching heartbreak that Poodle and I know all too well, a text message popped up on my phone from a familiar number that I hadn’t seen in a while. You see, before my steamy four month fling with Poodle began (yet again) I had spent several months swimming through the online dating pool. As soon as Poodle and I started communicating again, I deleted my online profile and cut off communication with any of the men that I had been in contact with. Besides not having much luck in the online dating world, I wanted to make sure that I had a clear heart and head while Poodle and I figured out exactly what we were doing strolling through each others lives again. Before I deleted my online dating profile, I had given my phone number to a guy that I met online. However, by the time the online guy (I’m going to call him “Sid”) made an effort to ask me on a date, I was already head over heels back in love with Poodle and not even Adam Levine or Kris Bryant could have distracted me from Poodle’s handsome face and witty sense of humor. Sid had text me a couple of times over my four month fling with Poodle but I never responded. Two days after Poodle and I cut off all communication, another text message popped up from Sid but I had absolutely no desire to go on a date with anyone. I was telling my friend (I’m going to call her Lyndsey) about how Sid had text me again to ask me out on a date but that I didn’t want to go. Lyndsey told me I was being overly critical and attempting to self sabotage which had become a common thing for me to do. She told me it would be good for me to get out of the house and meet someone new and she said “What is the worst thing that could happen?”
I thought about it for a while and she was right. What was the worst thing that could happen? What was the harm in grabbing a drink and meeting someone new? Sid was persistent, had impeccable timing, and at this point I had nothing to lose. To be completely honest, I would have gone on a date with a piñata if it would have taken my mind off of Poodle for an hour or two.
Sid and I set up a time to meet for a drink. A few of his text messages came off a little rude. As the time for Sid and I to meet drew closer, I still felt uneasy about Sid’s tone via text message, so I did something I had never done before. Twenty minutes before I was leaving to meet Sid, I asked Lyndsey if she would come with me and lurk in the background just to make sure I was safe and that everything went okay. She begrudgingly agreed as long as I promised to do her makeup, which I happily did.
Lyndsey and I drove down to the hotel on the Las Vegas Strip that Sid and I were meeting at. We walked into the hotel and Lyndsey wandered off to find a bar to wait for me at while I headed over to the lounge where Sid and I had planned to meet. I walked into the lounge and saw Sid sitting on a couch near the back of the room. I sat down, Sid shook my hand, then he looked at me with the most repulsed and disgusted look I have ever seen in my entire life and said “You look nothing like your pictures.” Then Sid stood up, grabbed his drink, and walked away. It felt like a hooker transaction gone wrong. It’s bad enough to be rejected by people from your past, but it’s a new type of low feeling to be rejected by a complete stranger who looked like a sloth. I have been on several dates with men that I wasn’t necessarily attracted to or I could tell right away that things would never work out between us romantically. I’m sure that men have been on dates with me who also weren’t attracted to me or didn’t feel anything romantic. However we would both sit through the date, ask each other questions, and give one another our undivided attention because we are polite adults and it is what people with manners do. If someone had the courage to ask me on a date and we both got dressed up and met somewhere, they certainly deserved an hour or two of my time.
Lyndsey had asked me earlier “What was the worst thing that could happen?” Well, THAT was the worst thing that could happen.
I immediately text Lyndsey and told her that we had to abort ASAP. She met me at the escalator and as we rode it upstairs to look for a bar, I was telling her what had just occurred in the 27 seconds that we had been separated. I wasn’t paying attention to the escalator ride because I was busy spewing out the details of my 27 second date… if you can even call it that. *rolls eyes* When we were half way up the escalator, I realized my Christian Louboutin high heel was stuck in the grid of the escalator. I jumped out of my glittery shoe and dropped to my knees in the middle of the escalator trying relentlessly to pull it out as Lyndsey frantically ran up the escalator. She jumpped off and searched for the emergency stop button (which by the way, was not conveniently located.) After she was finally able to locate the button, she ripped off the plastic and slammed the stop button. The escalator came to a halt… but it was too late. My $1,495 high heel was shredded and wedged at the top of the escalator. As you can imagine, by this point we had attracted quite the crowd. After pulling and tugging for several minutes, Lyndsey and I couldn’t free my shoe from the escalator to save our lives. Finally, a buff guy that had been watching our entire charade stepped in and ripped my shoe out of the escalators grip of death for me. RIP to my beautiful shoes. I had to get out of dodge because I could not stand one more embarrassing thing happening to me at that hotel. Lyndsey and I dashed as fast as we could across Las Vegas Boulevard to another casino where we could drown my sorrows in over priced liquor. While we were looking for an entrance to our new location, I was gimping around getting my shredded high heel stuck in every single piece of cobblestone at the valet in front of our new hotel. As if I weren’t humiliated enough, I had to listen to all of the valet employees whisper their commentary about how stupid and drunk I looked… little did they know I was dead sober and had a very rough night.
Lyndsey and I sat down at the first bar that we saw that happened to be in the lobby of our new location. After our first overpriced moscow mule in our ritzy hotel that was not my scene at all, I was ready to call it a night. Lyndsey told me that I didn’t have a choice and we were staying for at least one more drink. By our third Moscow Mule, Lyndsey and I had made friends with every single person sitting at that bar, including the bartenders. We gave everyone a presentation equipped with charts and graphs of my online dating horror story. We even pulled up my dating profile photos and asked if my photos looked like me. Every.single.person in that hotel lobby bar said I looked exactly the same in person as I did in my photos. That got me thinking… did this guy really think I didn’t look like my pictures? Was I THAT big of a disappointment that he couldn’t be bothered to sit across from me for one drink? Maybe. Or maybe this guy was repaying me for going radio silent and ignoring all of his text messages for the past four months up until two days ago with zero explantation. Who knows? At that point in the night, I didn’t care anymore.
Lyndsey and I had the bartenders turn up the lobby music and we laughed and danced all over the posh hotel lobby with all of our new friends which included a reigning UFC world champion, this hilarious police officer from Northern California who I’m going to refer to as “Thigh Guy” because all he did was compliment mine and Lyndsey’s thighs all night, the cast of a hit MTV show, a very prestigious clothing designer, and a ton of other awesome people from around the world. We were all throwing back shots of Fireball and mixing alcohol like it was our Freshman year of college. At one point I stopped, looked around, and realized this was the most fun that I’ve had in a very long time. After we closed down the lobby bar, Lyndsey and I said goodbye to all of our new friends and I walked shoeless back across Las Vegas Boulevard. That night, I had gone from Red Bottoms, to black bottoms. My feet were absolutely filthy. On the way home at 3am, Lynsey and I stopped for nachos to go from our favorite Mexican spot. We sat in bed eating our nachos out of a box. We both couldn’t help but laugh about the entire evening and how all of the events that occurred were things that you think only happen in movies…. except they don’t just happen in movies… You guys… this is my real life.
And that is how my worst (and shortest) date turned into my best date thus far.
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