Below is a true account of my dating experience, I wasn’t going to put this on blast, but thought you may find my story entertaining:
Went on a few dates with this guy, we’ll call him The Pilot. He was nice, the kind of guy who opens car doors for you, picks you up at the airport, and listens to country music.
A definite drinker who even made notes several times that he should probably quit. Me and my Christ-like capacity for compassion gave him the benefit of the doubt, even if a sloppy drunk is the biggest turn off for me. I thought if he can keep it together while drinking, that’s fine. Incoherence though? That will be a problem. But let’s roll the dice anyway.
During probably all of our dates he’d talk about these cookies he loved so much made by a bakery nearby. And so when his birthday rolled around in April I thought it would be a sweet gesture to bake these cookies for him.
He was enjoying his birthday weekend, and one night before we were going to see each other he was drunk texting me about cuddling, and some other stuff I can’t recall. I chalked his drunkenness up to a fun birthday weekend. We can all get a little loose sometimes, right!?
But then the next day late afternoon, it continued, and he was still drunk from the night before. Here’s a snippet of our convo:
Being incredibly turned off at this point, and not understanding what the fuck he was talking about, I texted back something about not comprehending him but to enjoy his birthday anyway. He then apologized and asked to take me out to dinner the next day. Yadi yadi yadda, I never replied.
And that’s the end of The Pilot.
Oh and those cookies? I delivered them to my loved ones instead. A much better option.