Sometimes I have a problem. Ok, that might be the biggest understatement I have ever had in a post.
I have a problem. Slash I have a lot of problems, but for the sake of this blog let us focus on one of them. I tend to give doucharino's more chances than they deserve (read, more than one chance).
So, there I was...driving home from my parents house when I got a random text message. Who could it be but Mr. "I don't pay for Lemonades, Please Don't Spike it because I will go to Jail" Rodger. This was months after the patio drinking, butt scooting car ride date that we "enjoyed" together. I had all but completely forgotten about this fabulous human and then BAM. Faster then Angelina Jolie could pull out her right leg at the Oscar's, he was back in my life.
Thirty second time out...am I the only one that thinks men are magical creatures? Everytime you get over somebody, or learn to move on, or (in this case) completely forget that these awful experiences have occurred, they come pouncing back to you. They have some sort of sixth sense or something. I haven't done any experiments to prove this fact, but I might. I'll keep you posted. Here is my initial conclusion... men come back after just enough time that you completely forget about their ridonkulous behavior and horrendous dating habits. This is what happened to me.
Time in.
Because I am a glutton for punishment I told him that I would see him again. Clearly, we both didn't have much going on in the opposite sex department. We decided to meet at the same bar that we did on our first day. For romantic/nostalgic reasons you ask? False. I just knew the bartendar, so I got cheap drinks. And we ALL know he wasn't going to pay for them (Red Flag #24,349). We also decided to bring our friends again (Red Flag #24,350). So, there we were...same bar, some of the same friends, same story. EXCEPT, wait for it, I FOUND OUT HIS REAL NAME! Oh yes, Sleuth Slurgin at your service.
How did I find out his name? Well it was two-fold. First, my friend was talking to his friend and she said something like, "Oh, how do you know Rodger?" And his friend responded with, "Who?" That was give-away numero uno that we didn't have the right name. Second part of the plan was simple. Obviously I looked at his credit card before the waitress got to it and he was in el bano (that's bathroom for our Spanish friends). I'm not proud of sneaking a peak, but a girl's gotta find out who she is dating sometimes ya know?!
We then decided to take this "laugh a minute" party to another bar. However, this bar was usually frequented by a few guys that my friend and I used to date. What were the chances they were going to be there on that night? If you guessed good to quite good you are correct! Did I mention that I sometimes still saw the guy that I "used" to "date"? Did I also mention that I was silencing his phone calls all night while with Rodger, and that the last few times I silenced his call he watched me do it? To put it mildly he wasn't too pleased.
To make a long story short the night didn't end well and I don't see either of these "gentlemen" anymore.
Hasta luego Rodger...or whatever your name is. I wish I can say that you shall be missed. But you shan't.
