4 sapphire martinis on a first date are 4 too many

Date #2:

Date #2 was a shitshow from the jump. Although looking back, I really only have myself to blame...and the 4 dirty sapphire martinis I decided to down. 

He was a really nice guy, and after my first Match.com disaster, I was a little gun-shy. The conversation was flowing (as was the wine), no awkward pauses, and he paid for dinner. Already this was a million times better than my first date. We decided to go out after dinner, and ended up at a crowded club where my date's friend was throwing a party. The music was good, I was having a good hair day, and conversationally its like we were soulmates. It was like that scene from The Sweetest Thing, where Christina Applegate meets that guy at the bar, and they are coyly flirting with each other. "What's going on with you?" "Nothing, what's going on with you?" and back and forth until they have their tongues so far down each other's throat you can basically see them coming out of the other's ass --- but in a cute, classy way obviously. 

 

I was in the middle of my third or fourth hair flip, when I see a previous suitor spot me and head my way. A little background info - we went out once, had a good time, and then I blew him off because he was on his way to law school on the other side of the country.  Needless to say, he was really the last person I wanted to run into while on a date with a potential life mate.

Now I'm not so arrogant to think that Law School Guy was spending his nights pining away for me, and would make a scene in front of my obvious new beau, but I quickly saw that it would be hard to explain our brief relationship to Date #2, and even more relevant, just plain awkward for me.

Law School Guy came over and cordially said hello, and I just as cordially introduced Date #2 and I thought (and prayed with all my heart) that would be the end of it. After a little polite chitchat, I made some banal remark to mark the end of the conversation when all of a sudden Date #2 and Law School Guy realize they have mutual friends. Pretty soon, they are talking about common interests, and before I know it a full-on bromance is forming between them. These guys wanted to become friends! I flip my hair and make some witty comment to try and end this obvious train wreck, but no one notices how uncomfortable I clearly am. So I sit at the bar and manage to inhale 4 dirty sapphire martinis while Date #2 and Law School Guy make plans to play basketball the following weekend. FANATSTIC. 

FINALLY, I convince Date #2 that his new best friend will be ok with out him, and we leave the club. At this point the wine and gin have gone straight to my head and I am obnoxiously drunk. And had I been in a less hazy state of mind, I would have realized that with every annoying comment I make, Date #2 is falling more and more out of love with me. I had to do something to keep him interested, and I had to do something quick. We were walking by a strip club, and somehow the thought crosses my mind that if I can only convince Date#2 to go in there, everything would be ok, and we'd be back on the path to lifetime bliss once again. 

This shouldn't be hard, right? Strip club, straight man...I shouldn't have had to work as hard as I did to convince this guy to go in. Apparently, Date #2 had morals and values, and strip clubs "weren't his thing." Well, I was going in with him or without at that point. I had made such a big stink about how amazing strip clubs were, that there was no backing down now. So I make my way to the top of the stairs, where the nice bouncer tells me I am way too drunk and there's no way in hell I am going in. I am so belligerent at this point that I don't realize the love of my life aka Date #2 is getting disgusted with me and is about to leave. I try to stop him, but instead fall down a flight of concrete steps outside the strip club. Now, I am not one of the girls that falls gracefully. My ass TUMBLED down this flight of stairs, and in the process I manage to rip my tights, boots, and literally leave a chunk of my leg and a couple liters of my blood on the sidewalk. 

Date #2 leaves. I still have the scar.