Part 3 - The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

If you haven't been keeping up, you're so late and you need to go back and catch up with part one and part two.

So, I'm trying my best not to get swept up in the snow tornado that is making it's way across a frozen lake. If you've ever been by the lake in anything but the summertime, you will know that it is significantly colder next to the lake that it is.... well, anywhere else. The wind is cutting through my pants like they were pantyhose and I am ready to go. Romance be damned.

The wind is too strong for me to walk into it, so I have to turn around and walk backwards. Would you believe that this ill-prepared little man decided to use me as a windshield. He pulled right inline behind me and was able to shield his entire body with mine. I mean, I know he wasn't wearing nearly as many layers as I was, but come on. Chivalry! This was your stupid idea to begin with!

After about five minutes of back-pedaling, I give up and start sprinting down the boardwalk. I recognize his building and make a mad dash for the door. My face hurts, my nose is running like there was a fire drill in my nostrils and all of the snots were trying to exit the building. I can feel the flu virus mounting it's comeback against my obliterated immune system, which is furiously trying to keep my body from hypothermia.

I sit down to try and collect some warmth before making my way to my car and this is when I finally get a glimpse of this guy's master plan. He tells me that I should come up and get warm... with a BEER! He must have thought, "I guarantee she'll want to come up stairs and jump in my nice warm bed, if I freeze her to death on the walk home" The man froze the holy shit out of me and then invited me up for a BEER. Have you been listening to single word that I've said all night? To be honest, even if he had invited me up for the best hot chocolate I had ever had in my life, I wouldn't have gone. I felt horrible and my snotcicles were still defrosting.

I told him that I wasn't felling well. He told about how much better he could make me feel. I asked how I could get back to my car. He offered to walk me to my car. Ugh. *sigh* Fine.

I get to my car, get ready to part with a hug. Nope, he goes in for the kiss. A kiss that consisted of him SUCKING on my tongue. Not like, a french kiss tongue sucking. Like... my tongue is that piece of spaghetti that you're trying to suck up. Like... my tongue is a baby's pacifier. Like... my tongue is the only thing that will get you the last bit of sweet, sweet grape drink in the bottom of the juice box. It was just, wrong. What was worse, is that this was probably him pulling out the best move in his arsenal to get me to stay. He pulled out the big guns... and shot me dead! That date could not have be resuscitated by Jesus himself.

I told him goodnight and bundled into my car. He leans in and goes for one more shot with the big guns. I'm sitting there in shock with my hands in the air, because I'm not sure of whether this is going to stop on it's own, or if I need to smack him over the head. And then, just as soon as it had started, it was over; probably an indication of what would have happened if I had decided to "warm" myself upstairs.

I leave as quickly as legally possible. Ten minutes later I get a text that says, "You should have come upstairs, it's so warm up here." I can't even.

By the time I woke up the next morning, I was hoarse and I couldn't get out of bed and I was secretly hoping that he had caught my cold. I had already decided that I was going to break up with him using my standard fall off the face of the earth approach. My co-workers, however, thought that I should let him down nicely. We, and I say we because there were 3 of us, crafted the most elaborate and compassionate text to the guy.  It went something along the lines of:

You're a really nice guy and I enjoyed the evening with you but I'm not looking for a relationship right now and I wish you all the best of the luck in the future... blah, blah, blah. Lies, fluff, more lies, well wishes and more sensitive fluff.

The man-child wrote back, "Oh, that's cool, I wasn't really looking for a relationship either. I was just looking for someone to keep me warm during my slow season."

Hold up, what!?! Here comes my woman's intuition waving her, "I told you so!" flag. This, THIS is why I don't bother with the letdown text. Firstly, because I can tell that it's bullshit and fluff, which means anyone with any form of intelligence can tell it's bullshit. Like saying fast-food workers at Subway are sandwich artists. You're just trying to make them feel better about a crap job. No matter what I write, it's a rejection. They know it. You know it. We're not fooling anyone. Second, I know 9 times out of 10, you're probably going to have a nasty, petty, immature response. My intuition normally doesn't let me down and it's only when I disregard it that I end up on dates like this.

What have I learned from this outing? If I walk up to the meeting location and he's wearing a Led Zepplin t-shirt and he's several inches shorter than his profile said he was, keep walking.