the fugitive

thursday, 3pm: the waiter texts me, "what are you doing tonight?"

damnit this guy will not stop. there is no possible way i could have been more of a douchebag to him on our last (2nd) date.

...but it's only 3pm and my day has already been wayyy too long.

i respond, "getting a drink with you. should be done by 10. can we go downtown near my place?"

9pm from the waiter: "hey, just got out of a show and i'm up near your work. i'll be at the hotel empire lounge meet me when you're done." creep.

10pm: i'm literally in my sweats because i thought i'd have time to go home before meeting him. but here i am. in sweats at the hotel empire.

at least i didn't see this as a cute, flirty date. because who is there to impress?

i already thought i'd seen him for the last time. but after this ridiculous day i was just hoping i could vent out all of my rage about the assholes that i work with to him. because i don't need to be all cute for this man. AT ALL.

so i find him and he's in a corner reading a book, sipping on a glass of red wine.

i order the same, vent a little.

and then he admits three things:

1. he is drunk.

2. he is stoned.

3. he is probably going to lose his job tomorrow.

oh this will be a good show.

after pressing me about the other guys i am dating

(goddamnit, why do i have to get punished and interrogated for being honest about dating other people?)

and after me jumping through every loop i can find to dodge the question,

he settles on a new subject: his past.

his past can best be retold in this chronological list:

1. before waiter is a waiter, waiter "acquires" a large sum of money illegally. (we're talking hundreds of thousands according to him)

2. waiter does not work for an entire year. eats at swank restaurants, pays an ex girlfriend's rent, etc etc.

3. obama comes into office.

4. money must be sent out of the country.

5. money gets sent to amsterdam.

6. money vanishes.

7. waiter is poor. moves to harlem. becomes a waiter.

8. waiter becomes the fugitive.

A DATE WITH A FUCKING FUGITIVE.

the bad part about being stuck at the hotel empire in sweats and no makeup is that there are no men to eye fuck you and save you from your beyond terrible date.

at this point, i am covering my wine glass with my hand, holding in my near exploding bladder as to not leave my huge bag at the table and have it get stolen, and generally freaking out.

oh. and then he asks about my sex life.

and i tell him.

11pm: the fugitive, formerly known as the waiter, tells me he thinks we would have AMAZING sex. and asks if i want to get a room at the hotel.

um. WHAT? are you blind? do you not see me cringing at every. single. thing. that comes out of your mouth right now?

you're a fucking idiot.

i pay for my wine.

he asks to kiss me on the subway platform. i tell him no.

i get off at my stop.

hopefully to never. ever. see him again.

...next.