Oops, I did it again

Holy comments Batman! Okay fine, I will spill the beans.

Rain had it right in his comment on my last entry. So.SO.RIGHT. What do you know? I mixed beer and liquor. In the same glass. Three times.

Jesus and I went to the Bier Market and I love their take on my old standby, the Kir Royale. At the Bier Markt, naturally it's called a Bier Royale. We started out by having a good time but then a heinous combination of sequences occurred. I was drunk. He was drunk. Too drunk to drive, in fact. Which was not cool. He was clingy and gropey and condescending. Actually, he was that guy in the club who is being a complete jackass jerk to his date and you wonder why she's there with him because clearly she's cute and can do better. Okay fine, that's what the cute boy (Paul? Or was it Sean?) said to me. "Why are you with him? You obviously don't want to be. And you're cute. You can do better". Uh, hi Paul, YOU are a cutey-patootie. Can I put you in my pocket and take you home? Sorry, I digress...

I was irritable and cranky (okay perhaps this has nothing to do with booze!) and totally a complete bitch to him because I was tired of him constantly grabbing me and crowding me while we were dancing. Not to mention the completely condescending random comments about trivial meaningless crap. Ugh, gropey and condescending. How is this a turn on? Play hard to get dammit, but don't be a jerk. Ugh. Listen gentlemen, when we're out in public and I repeatedly take your hand off my waist, don't keep grabbing it! AUGH.

Anyway, when cutey pie Paul ended up with butchy she-male in a wife-beater, Jesus noticed me noticing them and said, "are you jealous?" "No, but I didn't think he'd end up with her". "True, he can do better." "Well, that's what he said about me."

Collective blog gasp.

Yes, it was a totally bitchy thing to say but, by that time, I had had enough of his condescending bullshit and gropey wandering hands and should have left on my own terms. But he had my coat check ticket (house keys were in the coat) and my leftover pizza in his car and he was too drunk to drive anywhere. I kept telling myself that here a nice guy and I should be more forgiving and less of a complete raving beyotch. Just goes to show that my judgment where men are concerned is completely, totally, utterly worthless.

So, I walked home drunk by myself and he followed for a bit. I don't know when I lost him, maybe about half way, which is when I phoned MFV. And, though he was drunk himself, he was smart enough to realize that I was not okay. He insisted that I text when I got home and then phoned me later to make sure I was actually alive. I was fast asleep and have no recollection of the conversation. He does want to know what happened but I can't bring myself to tell him. Yet. Maybe next weekend. Or next month. Or never.

I'm too ashamed of myself. I should not have let myself get into that predicament with a strange man, even if His name is Jesus! A girlfriend pointed out on Saturday that he's actually only just doing the minimum to try and get me in bed before I leave. He's not meeting my friends or having dinner but he has no problem taking me to bar and getting me drunk. Thank God I didn't have sex with him. I confess though, I did think about it. I mean, maybe if he hadn't been a total jerk and we both hadn't been disgusto drunk... Ugh.

So, I'm over Jesus and this really is the epilogue in my dating memoirs. I guess I should change the title of this blog again. Suggestions? "How about Catatonia and catnaps: the chronicles of a catless cat lady".