currylove

Posts Tagged ‘drinking

So after a bit of a drought with Match, I had two dates this weekend. And they couldn’t have been any more diverse… Muslim boy on Saturday afternoon, and an Irish guy on Sunday night.

I met the Irish guy last night at a local steak/sports bar, and he’d taken the train over (MARTA is smarta!) which I thought was cool. I never take MARTA anywhere, not even the airport. But it’s such a Euro-thing to do, right? Public transportation is so great, if you actually use it. I do not.

One of the last times I rode MARTA some cracked out old woman was trying to sell us drugs and didn’t have any underwear on. I was scarred for LIFE. Seriously. It’s hard to “just ignore” someone when they’re yelling at you and also displaying goods which may or may not be for purchase. She didn’t say.

Anyway, back to my date! I was not just impressed with his desire to reduce pollution and not drink and drive but also his Irish brogue. So cute!  Physically, not really my type but I figured I could just close my eyes and listen to him talk if it came down to it…

I got there about 5 minutes late, and he was already half a beer down. Sadly, not drinking Guinness as I thought he would be, but Heineken.

Fast forward 4 hours (after discussing work, telework, the Euro, the economic collapse associated with the Euro, maths, liquor, Irish bars, work again, living in the States, living in Ireland, some long pauses with no chatting) and we’re both a few drinks in. Except he can drink 2 for every 1 of mine, so he’s basically put down a 6-pack. Plus the last couple of rum and cokes that I ordered, I couldn’t actually finish because they were all rum and I did have to drive – so he drank them. All the while telling me how rum and cokes are his favorite drink too – I think he was excited about the ‘kismet’ of that, but come on. It’s just that rum and coke is a hard drink for a bartender to fuck up, so it’s the easiest one to have on stand-by.

Basically, he was, as they say in the Emerald Isle, pissed. Or, as we say here, drunk off his ass. (What is, “Irish Stereotypes for $1000”, Alex??)

I ordered some food to help soak up the alcohol, but he wouldn’t have any. Guess it would’ve got in the way of his buzz. And then, as I watched him stumble to the bathroom, I knew I couldn’t leave him to take public transport home – the half-naked, drug-selling women would’ve just taken advantage of him.

So I went to use the restroom myself before we left and came back and he started swaying his way towards me, and I saw that his card was still sitting in the bill-fold (I’d offered to contribute, but he said no) – so I said, “Oh, they haven’t run your card yet?”

And the bartender pulls out his card and his copy of the bill and hands them over. Oh, they’d run it, and he was about to walk out of the bar without his credit card. Honestly, I have no clue if he signed the bill or left a tip. He didn’t even remember his card was still sitting there, in plain sight! I debated going back to see if he’d left a tip, but I honestly couldn’t be arsed. (I am super enjoying Brit slang, if you haven’t noticed).

So I drove him back to his place. And he was very sweet and very thankful about it and had forgotten his gate card for the pedestrian walk-way, so had to call himself from the car gate area and walked through that. Oy. I did totally wait till he was inside his complex before I drove off.  You know, I like to make sure my dates make it back home. I figure it’s the least I can do.

I would totally see him again, in a group setting, where I wasn’t responsible for his health and well-being. He’s fun and appeared to be surprised I was smart and conversant in many topic areas (Who is he meeting off match? Sheesh. I didn’t think anything we talked was that groundbreaking!). By the way – the accidentally (??) back-handed compliments I get from guys are just awesome. The Muslim boy told me: “Yeah, I got married young because I was too much into physical appearances. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”   Ummmmmmmmmmmmm…….. thanks, asshole.  Ok, I don’t even think he meant it the way I took it, but come on! Who says that on a first-date? I’ll just believe it’s because he’s out of practice.

Match Cost and recoup-ment:

After Saturday’s date, I had $54 left to recoup. Last night I had an appetizer and 3 drinks, about an average of $9 each, so that’s $36.

Only $18 left to get back.  Also, just for a disclaimer:  This is just me being tongue-in-cheek. I always offer to contribute and I mean it – I have no problem splitting the cost. I know these guys are in the same boat I am in terms of having paid for Match, and I appreciate it a lot when they treat it like a “real” first date, and not just some internet-assisted meet-up, which is what it is.

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When British and I first started our ill-fated adventure in cross-continent relationships, one of the things he would often tell me was “You are so pretty.” And I lapped it up like a little puppy.  Seriously, who doesn’t want to hear that, especially when it’s softly said in an amazing accent??  I sure as fuck did.

But little did I know it’s just the British equivalent of the American frat-boy-ism: “You’re sooooo hot!!!”  Which means nothing, actually. It’s just a segue to “Wanna come back to my place??”   Sigh.

I didn’t realize it till this trip though. The first night we met the British military boys, their commander kept telling me how much he liked my “pretty face.” Sweet, and again, I have no problem receiving attention, so I totally bought into it.

Then the next night, we went to another pub in Leicester Square. I was waiting for my drink and the bartender (tall and cute, just my type!) came over and asked for my ID. Ok, isn’t the drinking age in the UK like 16 or something? There was no way he needed to ID me. But I handed it over, and he looked at my year of birth and this look of utter surprise came over his face and he says: “Wow. You look great!”

Um, thanks!?  I was pretty offended. Can I just get a damn drink? I don’t need to be reminded I’m old as dirt. His take was that I should be flattered he needed to see it. Hmph.

Anyway, he continued to chat, asked what I was doing there, how long I was in town, etc and finally after making my drink (hello, the ONLY thing I wanted) he leaned over and whispered, “You are so very pretty.”

Which then threw me off guard – and it was my turn to look surprised because it was so random, and yes, SUPER sweet, but that’s also when the light bulb went off. Do they even mean it, or is it just a numbers game? Like if they say that to 100 women, 5 will be flattered enough to do something?  I can’t figure out if the boys there actually do think I’m attractive and are being honest and I should move to take advantage of it!?!?!??? OR is it just a line?

(Also, did I get any free drinks out of this? NO. So totally useless as far as I was concerned, even if he did mean it. )

The rest of the night was spent with these Italian guys we met at the bar – they were hilarious! Two spoke English perfectly fine, but the third didn’t. So how is it that he spoke with his hands, on our bodies? It’s like he got away with free grabs just because he was unable to speak the language… not a bad play, actually.

Some highlights from the night:

Me and C: “Hey, look at that Italian place, Bella Italia, would you want to eat there? ”
Them: “No-a! Would you-a eat-a in a place-a called Beautiful USA? Because-a all that meanz-a is Beautiful Italia. It’s-a dumb-a.”

Them (talking about having two taps instead of one in the bathroom sink): “Why are there-a two faucets? You either burn-a your hand-a or you freeze-a your hand-a! It’s-a impossible to get it right-a!!”

Them: “We love-a going to the pubs-and-a-clubs-a!”

Them: “We are staying with a divorcee. He likes to talk-a. He is lonely and tries to talk-a to us-a every day. We try-a to avoid him.”

Them (while we’re eating pizza): “It’s ok-ah. For pizza not in Italy, it will do-a. We don’t-a use ketchup on our pizzas like you do-a.”

Them (after I spilled water on myself at dinner): “That’s-a what you get-a for drinking that poison-a!”

It was a great night overall. I definitely still have a thing for cute boys with accents… just need to figure out how to make that work in my life here. Or you know, marry this guy and have it all (or this guy, both are pretty amazing in their abilities)…

Actually…without the accent, he’d just be American. And wearing a funny hat.

11pm

Posted on: March 10, 2012

Went to happy hour tonight which was a lot of fun… but when you do happy hour right after work, and you drink for hours and hours, it still basically only takes you up to about 11:00 and you’re tired. We started drinking at 6…. 5 hours later, 3 bars in, we found ourselves sitting and drinking and eating and barely able to hold conversation.

My friend leaned over and said “Man, it’s only 11!” and I said, “I know, but I’m so ready for bed.”

And as soon as I said that, I knew why I was never going to have sex again.

Fuucccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.


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