Exactly What Not to Do on a Date...

Not only am I pissed for the reasons that I am about to share with you...but I was almost at the end of writing this blog when this jenky computer I am on up and closed explorer. Today is not my day.

So, I've been dating this guy Wriel (pronounced Uriel or Asshole...take your pick) on and off for a couple of months. I hadn't seen him in about a month due to some technological difficulties (I was broke and couldn't pay my cell phone bill and left my phone at a friend's house and didn't go and get it for three weeks). So, last night we went out for the first time in about a month.

(Pause for background history)

I met Wriel at the Bolt about two months ago while out with my friend Rod. Wriel was there with his boyfriend Dale. They are still together and live together in Shakopee. Sad. Dale is a fat, controlling, gross, emotionally abusive white man that is in the National Guard. Wriel is a hot, cut, usually sweet Latino. Ugly mean white men do not deserve hot brown men. I have spoken. At the moment, Dale is at his weekend of duty in Duluth. Dale's mother is in town staying at Wriel and Dale's house while Dale's father is having a heart valve replaced in Minneapolis. Wriel has been charged with taking care of all this while Dale is off defending Minnesota from the Canadians and fucking some brown twink up North.

(Back to the story)

So, last night Wriel picks me up looking extra hot. He gives me a fabulous new cashmere scarf, and we head down to the Saloon for some beverages. The plan is to hang out for a while there and come back to my apartment for some brown on brown fun good times.  So, we were hanging out at the bar...having some drinks...laughing and joking. I ran into Ezekiel...a guy I met last time I was out that is a brother in my fraternity...and HOT AS HELL. In general...we were having a good time. About half way through the evening, Wriel's testicles re-ascended into his pelvic cavity...and he starts slowing up on the beers saying he has to drive back to Shakopee. Note...I do not live in Shakopee...and our plan was to stay at my house last night. So, I am understandable annoyed, which I make pretty clear to him. I may be the other woman...but I'm a motherfucking old school geisha...and he was getting all up in my memoir.

So, I got a little angry and withdrawn...but was faking the funk. At about 1am...Wriel says he is off to the bathroom. About ten minutes later, I realize he hasn't come back, so I do a loop to see if maybe he is in the smoking lounge. No dice. I call his cell a few times, but there is no answer. By 2am...I realize that this bitch ass motherfucker has left the motherfucking bar. I was at the Saloon without a dime in  my pocket and the whoreson knew that shit. Luckily, I have been going to that particular spot for 11 years, and I had some friends there...so I asked my hottie pal Thomas for a ride home.

I was so angry when I got home that I could not sleep. I was on a stalking mission. I tried to look up his home address and phone number through the property register in Scott County (unfortunately...in Scott County you can no longer search by name...you still can in Hennepin County for you vengeful divas out there). I called 411 looking for his home number. I got on Dexonline. I was determined to find a home number for him last night if there was one to be found. I went to bed frustrated...in multiple ways...but not before I blew up his cell phone and text messaging with some evil ass communications. Then I deleted all his numbers and cleared out my calls. Bye bitch.  Boo.

I have never ever in my long ass dating career ever been ditched on a date. Until the last ten minutes we were together the night was going peachy keen. And even if I did something to piss him off...leaving your date at the bar with no money and no way home is probably not the best solution to the situation.

I am dead tired at the moment having slept for perhaps three hours. Antonio got up this morning, and I regaled him with the drama. Part of me hopes that Wriel never ever calls my phone. The evil biyotch in me hopes he's stupid enough to call. Either way...let me run into him in public...he is going to find out just why white, native, black folks and Puerto Ricans should never ever be allowed to make mixed babies.

Comments

[Justin]

this is a great story. in the worst way, of course. i had a similar experience, and without going into the ugly details, i don't think i'll ever get with anyone with a nasty racist white boyfriend again. you'd think that would be a lesson we wouldn't have to learn the hard way, and yet...here we are.