I should have thrown a drink in his face, but he did a fine job of soaking himself with alcohol

I met Mike through a mutual friend.  She gushed to me about how sweet and sincere he was and that she thought we’d be a good match.  He showed up one night when said friend and I were at a bar and it seemed she had been correct; Mike was great.  After a few drinks, he offered to walk me home.  He kissed me goodnight at the door and asked for my number, which I eagerly bestowed upon him.  I heard from Mike the very next day, something I’ve found quite rare.  I reject all rules of dating, particularly that silly rule regarding how long to wait to contact someone you’re interested in, so I found it incredibly refreshing that Mike adhered to a similar train of thought.  He liked me and wasn’t afraid of coming across as too eager!  Score!

And so it was that Mike and I were out again several nights later at one of my favorite neighborhood establishments.  It didn’t take me long to realize that at 9pm, Mike was already drunk.  He confessed he’d already been out with some friends before meeting up with me.  Although he certainly wasn’t wasted, I started to worry when he ordered another drink.

And then another…

…at which point Mike began to make me extremely uncomfortable by raving about how beautiful I looked.  For one thing, it was hard to detect sincerity through the haze of alcohol that was probably beginning to cloud his vision.  For another thing, he just wouldn’t talk about anything else.  Sure, I like being told I look nice and I‘m pretty good at accepting compliments, but what is there to say other than “thank you?”  Especially when returning the compliment would just be a lie.

And then another…

…at  which point Mike tried to lure me back to his apartment with the classic line, “I’ve got some music on my computer I want you to listen to.”  Though I tried to let him down easy and excuse myself by saying I was really tired, Mike apparently was not taking rejection and he soon proved he was not leaving without a fight.  We argued about the situation for the next half hour, all the while I was just trying to get out of there.  I’ve never been very good at being assertive.

And then another…

…at which point Mike got up and walked to my side of the table, stood behind me, and proceeded to shove his hand down my shirt.  I was sitting in a restaurant, with people at the tables surrounding me, with a drunk asshole behind me who had now worked his hand into my bra and was feeling me up.  Shocked, appalled and pissed off is an understatement.  I just couldn’t believe it was happening and try as I might, I had absolutely no idea what to do.  I honestly don’t remember what I ended up saying to Mike, but I made it clear that his behavior was inappropriate and it was time to go.  He apparently had enough of the rejection at that point because he returned to his chair, threw it to the ground, and stormed out.

Leaving me with a bill for $70 that was primarily his drinks.

Our waitress came over after he was gone and asked if I was alright.  Still in complete shock and recovering from the disaster, replaying the night and trying to figure out which part was the worst, I said, “yeah… bad first date.”  She looked at me in utter disbelief and replied, “That was a first date?  Honey, I’m bringing you a beer on the house.”  It hardly made up for the preceding events, but it definitely helped.

I had a text from Mike before I even got home that night that simply said, “Had a great time tonight!  Let’s do it again soon, babe.”   I don’t think I even have to tell you that I didn’t respond.  Or that I never again allowed our mutual friend set me up on another date.