Wee Willie Winkie's Pretty Cranky, Or Something.

Well, hey-hi-diddly-HO-HO peoples.

The Christmas clock-cheese-o-rama is ticking ever closer to the end, and as such, I have a big ol' box o'wine ready to guzzle in case of medical emergencies.

I DON'T FUCK AROUND WITH THE FAT MAN IN THE RED SUIT.
WE HAVE AN AGREEMENT.

So. Yes. Here we all are again.
And I was thinking back the other night as I was decorating our Astro-Turf-Tree about the Ghosts Of Douches-Pasts. It took me awhile, because as I've mentioned before, I've worked very hard to block that crap out.
But then it came to me in a blinding flash of bright white light. Or maybe it was headlights in my living room window. I dunno. Whatever. Roll with it...

THIS ONE IS CLASSIC.

I cannot believe I haven't remembered this date until now. Except that this Doozy is very old. Like vintage Doozy - early dating Doozy.
Why, I was a wee young lass back then. And dumb as a box of polished rocks.
FUUUUUCK ME.

THE TALE OF SLICK WILLIE

OH. Oh man oh man oh man oh man...
What to say about this one, except I walked into this date blind as a fucking bat and as naive as they come. 
See, here's the thing.
I was brand new on the sites - Match.fuck-my-life.com way back then and I had NO IDEA how the dating world worked. Or, more precisely how the douchebro's operated. I was just all; la-la-la, everything is going to go so great!
HA
HA HA
HA HA HA
yeah. no.

Anyhoozles. William, popped up on my match profile as I was still reeling from some of the recent disappointments (I'm looking at you Farkus and you Bubba), but back then I was ever the optimist, hiked my ladyballz back up and marched on.

Enter William. He was...slick. Let me splain'.
I'm not cool.
I'm nerdy, I'm weird, I have a wicked sense of humor.
And I'm a broad in the best sense of the word.
Of my many fabulous qualities, "slick" isn't a word I would ever use to describe myself.

But Willie was slick. He was handsome (like Hugo Boss model handsome), worked for some financial operation in a downtown high-rise, drove a fancy car and wanted everyone in the free fucking world to be aware of those things.
Back then, those attributes didn't grate me the way they do now.
Eh, an old dog can be taught after all.
Back then I was wooed by Willie's smarmy good looks, his patent jokes and compliments and boasting monologues. I didn't even read the red flags being dumped on the field by the god damned truck load.
Told you - dumb a box of fucking polished rocks.
FOR FUCK SAKES DOOZE.

Moving on.

It wasn't long after chatting that Willie and I arranged to meet for happy hour at a downtown bar, which to be honest, at the time, puzzled me. I also worked in a downtown highrise so it was convenient for both of us. Plus, that seemed to impressed old Willie.
I got the feeling that Willie cared and awful lot about what other people thought about him.

We met at some trendy, upscale bar that catered to the younger and richer set. You know, the kind that is a rooftop bar, only has counter height tables with uncomfortable chairs, lots of discreetly hidden blue neon lighting and a name like "Birch's on First". Total bullshit.
My TJ Maxx suit and Target heels suddenly felt very out of place in a joint like that and I had a hard time not pulling at my blouse as I walked in and stood awkwardly by the door, searching for Willie.

He was late.
Goddamn fantastic.

The hostess gave me a quick yet discerning once over when I asked for a table for two. I arched my manicured eyebrow, clutched my laptop case tighter in my hand and hoped my ass didn't look huge in my pencil skirt. I'm not heavy, but I still had my insecurities like any other normal girl.
I was looking over the menu when Willie arrived in a flurry of activity. He looked good, I had to admit, even his windblown, salon styled hair had a very Jane Eyre feel to it and I was instantly more nervous.

I was so fucking far out of my league peoples.
Seriously.
What was a nerd like me doing in a place like that? I'm a Juice Lucy and wings kinda girl. It's not that I cannot dress up and be a lady. Far from it, but that fancy, putting-on-heirs-shit just isn't my jam.

I smiled brightly as I stood up and introduced myself, but I still caught Willie's smile falter ever so slightly as he looked me over. I would be lying if I said that his seeming instant judgement didn't sting.
THAT was when the intuition kicked in.
Took me fucking long enough.
Willie and I made small talk before our waitress came over to take our drink and appetizer order.

So. Let's get started on the Doozy fun shall we?

(again, paraphrasing as this was yearrrrrs ago. But I'm pretty close to what was said.)

Server: "May I get you both something to start?"
Me: "I'll have a glass of the house Pinot Grigio please and and an order of the balsamic scallops. Thank you."
Server: "Excellent. And you sir?"
Willie: "Yes. Can you tell me where your grilled sea bass in the seafood croquettes is sourced from? And I need fresh water. My glass has spots on it." I saw no spots.
Server blinked twice very fast. "I'll need to check with our chef, but I believe the sea bass is Chilean."
Willie:"Hmmm. Chilean sea bass is so 1990's. Let me see" Looking over the menu. "And do you carry Black Cow Vodka? It's from the UK." Willie gave our server the side-eye as he ran his finger over the stiff parchment menu.
I crushed the polyester napkin with my fingers.

OH FOR FUCK SAKES. 
WILLIE WAS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.
YOU ALL KNOW THE KIND OF PEOPLE I MEAN...

Every little damn thing was an issue. Nothing was ever good enough and Willie had to make a server's life a fucking nightmare on earth. Probably everyone else's in a one mile radius too.

Bet Willie was great fun at parties.
Maybe I could get my scallops to go?

Oh..Robin. I miss you.

Server: "Sir? Would you like a few more minutes to decide? I will go check with our bartender about the vodka." She walked away quickly, swiping away Willie's assumed defiled water glass in the process.
Willie studied the menu - which by the way, wasn't long - for a few more tense moments, then threw it down on the table.
"This is the first time I've ever been here. It was recommended to me by one of the hedge fund managers, but so far, I'm not impressed."
"We have hedge fund managers in this city?" I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
Willie crossed his arms over his expensive looking silk tie and frowned. "Of course we do. What a silly question."
"It.Was.A.Joke....?" I murmured as I looked away, shifting uncomfortably in my tall seat.

Awkward didn't even begin to describe this date. It was worse than your grandma finding your vibrator in your luggage on a visit home.

The server returned with a fresh glass of water for Willie, my wine and an answer.
Server: "I'm sorry Sir, but we do not carry Black Cow, however, we do have many other fine top shelf vodkas to choose from. Did you see our cocktail menu with our complete spirits list?"
Willie frowned. "Yes. Fine, fine whatever...I'll take a Grey Goose on the rocks. In a CLEAN glass. NO spots."
Server: "Certainly Sir. And would you care for anything to eat as well?"
Willie rolled his eyes and huffed, "I guess I'll have the kobe beef satays. But really your menu is deplorable."
Server: "Would you care to speak to our chef Sir? Or our manager?"
Willie: "I'll have a word on the way out. That's all. You may go." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and I almost choked on my wine. That poor girl. I smiled kindly and made a "HOLY SHITBALLS! I'M SORRY" face at her. She just shrugged.
Me: "Wow. Um...so..did you have a really tense day or something?"
Willie: "No. Why?"
Me: "You just seemed rather...short with our server is all. I was just wondering."
Willie: "I just demand the best in service when I go out. Even if it's just for happy hour. I deserve the best. It's that simple."
OH
FOR
FUCK
SAKES

GET OVER YOURSELF PRINCESS

Annnnd, everything went to shit from there.
After our server brought Willie his vodka on the rocks in a sparkling glass, he sent it back.
Y'all wanna guess why?
Go on.
Take a guess...
Because there was too much ice.
Not even kidding you peoples.
I was mortified.
Willie, a grown ass fucking man (I presume with a grown penis, although by then it was debatable if he was compensating for something, ya know?) who ordered a vodka ON THE ROCKS, sent back a drink because it was... ON THE ROCKS.
I...I...just...couldn't...

By this time, I didn't even care if I looked like a two-bit-trailer-trash-crackwhore-fresh-off-the-meth-lot-who-had-been-rode-hard-put-away-wet-and-still-needed-her-roots-done.

I WAS SO OUTTIE.

Our appetizers arrived just as I had finished guzzling down the last of my wine.
Server: "Another glass of Pinot Grigio Miss?"
Me: "No thank you. I'll just take my check please."
Willie:"WHAT?! So soon? We just got here. Our food just got here!"
I shoved two creamy, delicious scallops into my mouth, chewed quickly and swallowed.
Willie leaned over the table and rested his chin on his manicured hand.
"I never did tell you how lovely you look tonight. My apologies. You know...I'm a bit of a chubby chaser." Willie smiled lopsidedly, which would have been charming on just about any other man but him.
WAIT...
DID HE JUST CALL ME FAT?

That was the final straw. I mean, come on, I ain't no size two, but I can shake it shake it like I'm supposed to do...
Cuz I got the boom boom that all the boys chase..
Yeah
All the right junk
In all the right places.

And I'm not fat.
FUCK THAT PRETTY BOY

I pushed my chair away from the table, stood up, rustled around in my purse, whipped out twenty dollars and threw it on the table.
"This should cover my half. You say you're loaded, I'm sure you can cover whatever is left."
"Cunt." Willie murmured as I grabbed my laptop bag and purse and walked away, sure to add a little extra "swish" in my walk.
However, I made sure to stop by the server station and give our server a twenty as well, because I was absolutely, positively sure that Willie was going to stiff her on his way out. Plus, I made sure to stop by and talk to the manager as well; let him know that Willie was a class A lunatic and a fuckwipe as well and that our server was superb to put up with pond scum like him.

Who's the cunt now?