Boys In The Band Ordered Boat Drinks

So, ya know I'm not a big drinker. Never have been. I don't have any moral objection to it order anything, it's just never been my jam. Plus, I'm an uber boring drunk - like "oh hey, let's just prop Doozy up in the corner now and let her look at the shadows on the ceiling. Well, this sucks." kinda drunk. I'm much more fun sober.

Y'all can just imagine my total lack of surprise when I came upon a date once who was stark raving wasted when I got there. Annnd, it all went downhill from there.

But at least there was bacon.

The Tale of Hooch the Hoppy Boy

Come with me now people, back to a simpler time. A time of warm summer breezes, chirping birds and romance in the air. Yes...go there. Float on with the thought of lovely clouds and let Doozy's dulcet voice fill your senses.
Easy like Sunday morning people. That's me..

Okay, fuck that. 
This isn't about that. We all know that wasn't my dating experience.
The time was summer 2012. And I met Hooch on one of the douche dating sites...let's say OkCupid (douche du' jour as it may be). He was attractive, had your standard OKC profile - ran marathons, liked sushi, had a motorcycle, had traveled to 8 countries and was looking for a "partner in crime"..well you get the picture. Hey, give a girl a break, by 2012 my standards were low: had a job, a penis, no criminal record and a car.
DON'T JUDGE.

Moving on...

We chatted for awhile and Hooch seemed normal. I know, I know, I'm always saying "seemed normal". I should just start saying..so-and-so didn't seem like a raging, lying, douchecanoe, or so-and-so seemed like he was from THIS solar system and not Alpha Centauri. But that seems like asking a wee bit too much, no? This IS the online dating world after all.

But I digress...

Anyhoozle, we decided to meet up at a local bar and grill for happy hour. I was running a bit late because I had to drop by home first and check on the spawn child and get him situated then there was traffic, so I texted Hooch to let him know I might be a few minutes late.

"No problem at all. I'll be waiting at the bar."

I rushed across town, checked myself in the mirror and scrambled inside. The place was packed, since this was a downtown joint, not a suburban b&g like I was usually going to. Trendy young professionals lined the place, hot political junkies and cynical older syncophants took up space everywhere. Then I spied Hooch leaning over the bar, empty seat next to him.

Walking over, I immediately noticed the empty highball in front of him and another full glass of amber liquid in his hand.
Hooch turned and looked at me when I walked up smiling and introduced myself; and it took a minute for the recognition to hit. Not totally uncommon on a first date, but we HAD exchanged pictures just earlier in the day. So....?
"HOLY SHIT! YOU'RE FUCKING HOT!" He exclaimed, before I even had my purse all the way draped over my chair.
"Um...thanks." I guffawed. We continued exchanging introductions and pleasantries as I ordered an iced tea. Hooch found that hysterical.
"Not a drinker huh?"
"I'm not a huge drinker no. Plus I have to drive tonight."
"That's why I love this place. I live just a few blocks from here. So I can walk..more happy hour!"

DANGER
WILL
FUCKING
ROBINSON

Since the place was so busy, we ended up ordering food at the bar. And Hooch kept drinking, hard stuff. 
So here's the thing, I know different people can hold their liquor differently, and Hooch was a big guy. Not fat, but big...bulky. But holy crapballs Batman, he was knocking back Scotch like water. In the time it took me to down two iced teas he had already sucked down four highballs.
And Hooch was well on his way to a major hangover by the time our dinner had arrived.

It was getting more and more difficult to carry on a conversation with Hooch also. He was certainly...loose (paraphrasing here, since I don't remember specifics, but this is pretty close).
ME: "So, what do you like to do for fun?"
HC: "Chase women. Softball leagues. Rafting. Chase women."
ME: "Heh....erm..I see...um.. What else?"
HC: "Happy hours. Gosh you're hot."

FOR.
FUCK.
SAKES.

As if Hooch getting sloshed wasn't bad enough. Here's what pushed me over the edge from having a standard bad date into a ARE YOU EVEN KIDDING ME? date:

At one point as we were talking, or attempting to talk..Hooch was starting to slur a little bit. He finally seemed to noticed that I had ordered the pasta carbonara (which was tasty by the way. If you've never had pasta carbonara - try it. BACON PEOPLE. BACON. And tomatoes, garlic, in creamy sauce; it all depends on how the chef preps it. But Holy BACONBALLS BATMAN, BACON. Need I say more?)
The man who would win my heart would make me bacon. Nuff said'.

Anyhoozle, Hooch reached over and 
ATE
OFF
MY
PLATE

I'm not even fucking joking people. A complete drunk rando reached over and touched my food. Without asking. Just got all up in my carbonara business and went to town. Hooch just leaned over and took a big ol' forkful of pasta off my plate and stuffed it into his mouth, his eyes closing in foodgasmic ecstasy.
Jeebus Christie on a motor scooter.

"Oh My God! This is sooogoods.Ishouldhavegottenthis." He slurred.

I was completely stunned, my eyes widen, then narrowed. My mouth opened, then closed, like some freshly caught trout flopping on a dock. Even the bartender, who had witnessed what had happened seem mildly stunned, and bartenders see all kinds of shit. He walked close to me leaned over once Hooch was once again focused on his meal. It was obvious that this was first date. And it was obvious by now that Hooch was three sheets to the wind.
"Would you like a fresh plate?" He asked.
I smiled at the bartender (who was actually pretty cute - if not young).
"That's kind of you, but no need. I take it he's here a lot?" I replied.
"Yep."
"Will he get home okay?" I asked.
"Yep."
"Good. Then I'll take my check please."
"It's okay. This time it's on the house."
"Really, you guy's don't need to eat my meal because of some asshole. But thank you all the same."
The bartender smiled and processed my check. It was then that Hooch leaned sloppily over his chair and belched really loudly. Loud enough that people looked. ASSWIPE.
"Heyyy pretty ladyyy. Watsss thiss? You canna go. The nightss young." He slurred.
"Yes." I said shortly as I waited for the bartender to finish processing my bill. The bartender's name was Brad. I gave Brad a huge tip for having to, I'm sure, deal with Hooch at the end of the night, and for being kind to me.
"Would you like someone to walk you to your car?" Brad the bartender asked. I smiled again. 
"Thank you again. But I assure you, I can kick THIS guys' ass. Especially wasted." I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. "You're a good guy Brad...have a good night."
"But we'reee havingg such a gooddd timee. Wait up.." Hooch's eyes were half mast, his tie askew. But he didn't move from his barstool.
I didn't even say goodbye, or "nice to meet you" or anything. No pleasantries for that fuckwad. Just grabbed my purse and walked out.

Hooch the Hoppy Boy ate my fucking pasta.
HE TOUCHED MY BACON.
No one touches my bacon unless I'm having sex with them.
And even then...



As always, thanks for reading and please feel free to leave comments. I LOVES ME SOME COMMENTS. Have any doozies you want to share? Feel free! 
-Doozy