The background here is that I went out with this guy a few weeks ago, let’s cleverly name him “New York Guy” for the sake of this post, and he bought me a Kate Spade dress for the date. You can’t stop judging me any time now because I didn’t ask for the dress, I didn’t hint that he should buy me a dress, but he knew I liked Kate Spade and thus showed up at my door with a dress! Oh you think that’s awkward? Try acting gracious accepting a dress that’s not even the right size! Then have to wear it despite not having the right color flats and sitting through a dinner revolving solely around him, his work, & how his “stupid Porsche doesn’t go fast enough.” In short it was horrifying, but I got through it and managed to survive to invite him out for drinks the other night with my friend
Spacey Stacey who was visiting from Atlanta.
The morning after the three of us met up,
Spacey Stacey and I woke up in bed still drunk, recounting the previous night’s events. I played on Seamless.com ordering us hangover drinks from the local market while she brought up with disgust how NYC Guy dominated the conversation with his negativity and abrasive input form the moment he sat down. First it was a rant about how he, “hates runners” after I mentioned I completed a half marathon last weekend and then it was, “Ew don’t go to the Zoo there’s a retarded Polar Bear and it’s a waste of money,” after she expressed her excitement for Central Park Zoo. We were both fuming by the time we remembered the straw that broke the camel’s back: he blatantly asked me to buy him a drink.
“Why would I buy you a drink?” I had questioned with a laugh, looking at Stacey across the table for mutual disbelief. Was that like, a really awful joke? What kind of gentleman asks a lady to purchase a drink for him? A 16 dollar drink, no less! I was astounded, but he would not be shown up with my blasting comment.
“Why would I buy you a $300 dress?!” He said back to me, leaning over the table towards me as my jaw dropped.
“Why don’t I just go to the bathroom!” Stacey said as she got up hoping to avoid the drama that was ensuing.
I stopped our reminiscing and got up from the bed to find us some Advil. Our headaches were splitting from the Grey Goose & Grapefruits we had on the rooftop at Gansevort Hotel. I shut the curtains to keep the rising sun out and shouted back to Stacey from the kitchen how NYC Guy and I didn’t make up while she had gone to the bathroom. We didn’t fix the situation or resolve whatever hostility he had but by the time Stacey came back from the restroom I was ignoring him and asking for the bill even though we had sat down only 30 minutes prior. It was a terribly uncomfortable situation, we remembered, as Stacey and I offered up our debit cards and he just sat back finishing his drink.
“I guess he deserved that text you sent him after he left us at dinner!” Stacey said before chugging a water bottle.
“What text?” I asked her. I wasn’t surprised to have forgotten a few things and it wasn’t long after I grabbed my phone that I found the conversation with a number I had deleted; him calling me a “bad attitude princess” and my last retort, “Whatever…THANKS FOR THE DRESS LOSER!” I had to laugh out loud. Loser? Really, Sarah? What 26 year old says, “Loser?” I felt bad in that moment, like I should text him now that everybody had left the scene and there wasn’t alcohol in our systems. But what would I say after that?
“Say that we’re hungry and we want him to send us some breakfast!” Stacey said with a pillow over her face. We looked at each other and had a good laugh, then a moment of silence as I contemplated how funny it would be to ask a generous favor after such a horrible evening. We cracked up mimicking his potential responses to such an outlandish request and so since we were still buzzing from the cocktails, I did.
Me: Hey! We had a blast last night, let’s do it again :)
Him: Girls like you don’t know how to have fun.
Me: Glad you had fun too! Hey, do you want to order us breakfast to be delivered? But I don’t want to pay for it ;)
Me: I’m thinking I’d like pancakes. Blueberries on the side.
Him: You’re ridiculous.
Me: Fine, I’ll pay for half but Stacey doesn’t like pulp in her OJ, can you have them strain it?
Me: Babe you’re being distant, is something wrong?
Me: Can you ask for extra ketchup for my hash browns?
Him: STOP TEXTING ME!
Stacey and I snorted like little (skinny) pigs over the hilarity of the situation while I proceeded to harass him all morning about the alleged pancakes. I kept this up for a few hours before I finally felt like I had tortured NYC Guy enough for his wrong doings. You might think we’re bitches but actually we are not. I honestly did a service by conditioning him to see what happens when he tries to ask a girl to buy him a drink. Now because of my charitable act, he knows he will get virtually pestered for a sum total of 3 hours and 26 minutes, or 36 text messages revolving around Pancakes if he asks for a free drink. His future dates are indebted to me forever. Your move Mother Theresa!