The Drunk One


A few months back, I’d met a pretty cute guy at a local bar. I gave him my number (reluctantly) and rarely heard from him. Thanks to Tinder, we were reunited and it may be one of my worst experiences yet.

We both matched on Tinder — and I didn’t realize he was the same guy from the bar months ago. He sent me a message saying he thought he knew me and that started a Tinder chat that lasted a couple of weeks.

The Drunk One

Such an intellectual start…

Eventually, the Drunk One used the number he had already saved and texted me — relentlessly. Usually it was to share crazy Tinder stories and jokes, but occasionally he would ask me on a date. I kept shooting him down. First of all, he’s two years younger than me. Second of all, he had his chance months ago and didn’t take it.

Why didn’t I listen to that second red flag more than I did? (One of my 2014 Dating Resolutions was to pay attention to red flags. I’m failing at that so far.)

Friday night I was out with friends and the Drunk One decided to text me. He was at a concert with friends and I was out with friends so I didn’t dive too deep into conversation with him. He finally asked where I was and decided he wanted to meet up.

I agreed (thanks Vodka). I gave him exact directions to the bar we were at and he walked the two blocks to meet me. Only he was so drunk he couldn’t figure out where I was. He called. And called. And called. I gave him the same directions 10x before giving up.

Then he called back — to tell me he’d made it and was standing at the bar. I waved at him and we said our hellos before hitting the dance floor. Once we were out there, he immediately tried to stick his tongue down my throat. No, thank you. I’d rather not taste your whiskey breath.

My friends decided to move along to the next bar and we drug him along. Again, he tried to stick his tongue down my throat. Apparently one no just wasn’t enough for this guy.

We hit this dance floor and after a few minutes he began dancing with my “friend” (more on her later…). I didn’t mind. I barely knew the guy and so far he was only turning me off.

“GROSS!” I heard her yell and storm off.

What was going on here? The Drunk One tucked his tail between his legs (much like you’d imagine an oversized blonde puppy dog) and ran off so fast.

“He tried to put his hand up my skirt,” she said. Granted, she was dressed like a two-cent whore but that’s no excuse. I angrily grabbed my phone to tell him I thought he was disgusting and to never text me again — to which he replied…

“You were being a tease.”

EXCUSE ME?! I wouldn’t kiss you let alone let you touch me — how am I teasing you?! I sent him a punching emoji and left it at that. I no longer have the Drunk One’s phone number and have no intentions of talking to him again.

Hoping for luck on my next dating endeavor…

Dame Dessa

(Photo Credit: San Diego Shooter, Flickr)


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