Pepe Le Pew

Remember a little while back when I said I was emailing with an eHarmony guy from Long Island who seemed normal?

He was from Smithtown, 38, a lawyer, divorced with 2 young boys. 6'3" and had most of his hair. He got custody of the family dog. We went through the guided communication process, then exchanged a bunch of emails. Finally, he asked for my number so we could talk on the phone.

So we did. For 2 hours.

When we hung up, I definitely knew a lot more about him. His ex wife was lazy and yelled a lot. He drove a silver BMW. He liked egg white omelets with spinach and feta. He was a Dolphins fan. The only concert he ever went to was Billy Joel (of course).  He went to Hoftsra for undergrad and St. Johns for law school.  His mom and dad divorced after 30 years of marriage. His dad then remarried -- and had kids -- making his brothers the same age as his sons.

Unfortunately, he knew next to nothing about me. Why? Because this was a guy who loved the sound of his own voice. You know what his only question was?

He asked me what else I wanted to know about him...

Anyway, for all his jibber-jabbering, he seemed kinda funny. I like funny. So when he decided at the end of the call (based on all that stimulating conversation) that we should meet for dinner, I said ok. We made plans for the following night. Mexican. He cancelled about 4 hours beforehand. He texted the next day to reschedule. Sushi. And then he cancelled again. That’s where I drew the line.

I’m done with guys making plans they can’t keep.

So I didn't reply. And I didn't hear from him for a couple of weeks. Then he popped up out of the blue, all apologetic about being such a flake, and he asked me out again. For whatever reason, I said yes. But I wasn’t meeting him after work for drinks or dinner anymore. I decided on brunch and chose a spot in the 50s on the east side. Seafood. And he actually showed up!

I saw him pull up and attempt to parallel park. Let’s just say it wasn’t smooth. But he was definitely in a silver BMW so at least he was telling the truth about that. Unfortunately, when he got out, he expected me to be impressed. That ship has sailed. I drove a BMW too, back when I owned a car… except it was black.

He said hello and leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek.  Even outdoors, I couldn't help but notice the amount of cologne he was wearing.  He was like a king-sized Pepe Le Pew. It didn't take me too long to realize why he couldn't park and why smelled like he took a bath in CK One.

It’s because he was stinking drunk. Awesome.

We went inside and the waiter came over pretty quickly. Skunky slurred his drink order: Pure vodka. No ice. No slice. Did I mention it was 10am? I ordered a hammer to beat myself over the head. And a cranberry juice chaser.

Motormouth was at it again, this time, showing me pictures of his dog. Beast? Buddy? Barney? Whatever. He’s flipping through and I started to notice a theme. This dog is always accessorized. There he is with a sombrero. Next, it’s a pair of aviators. Then, an Islanders jersey.

Look, I like dogs as much as the next guy. (So long as the next guy is someone who feels generally lukewarm about the animal kingdom.) But I firmly believe with every fiber of my being that anyone who forces their pets to wear clothes is an absolute asshole.

For some reason that even I don’t understand, I still kept thinking maybe this date would get better. So we order, and I’m hoping that will sober him up. I got a crabcake sandwich on an english muffin. Normally on a first date, I might have gone with a side salad, but instead I ordered a side of fries. 

It's not like he was going to remember.

He proceeded to tell the waiter he’s a “big fan of Italian” then rattled off a bunch of pastas. He said he liked linguini, fettucini, tortellini – all the "inis" really. And then he ordered the seafood frittata.  Good lord.

He kept talking. And talking. And taalllkkkkiiiiinnnnnnggggggg. Then our meals arrived. Of course he continued, now with mouthfuls of eggy food. Mmmm. You know how you eat when you’ve had too much to drink? Like it’s your last meal? Yeah, it was kinda like that.

Towards the end of brunch, he leaned in and said, “Tell me about your fears.” Say WHAT? Here was a guy who’d barely asked me a single question about myself and now he wanted to know about my FEARS??

Uh ok.

Frankly, I’m really only afraid of one thing: Death. Not public speaking.  Not spiders.  Death.  Well, death and also having my ass suctioned to an airplane toilet. But mostly death.

As I opened my mouth to respond, I got a better look at his face.  I noticed a reddish mark by his lower lip, and came to the swift realization Pepe may or may not have The Herp. 

That's what I like to call the final straw.

So, I placed my napkin over my mostly uneaten crabcake sandwich. I then stood up and told him he should take care of the check, try not to kill anyone on his way home, and most definitely lose my number.

And that was the end of that.


Ok. Don't hold back. What would YOU have done in my shoes?  (Bonus points if you tell me about your fears...)
 

tags: dating