Of being shallow, trust, and sober and drunk phone calls

Wow, last night was a hot mess. Except for the purposes of relating this story, I'd like to go ahead and delete parts of this from my memory. This is so bad, it has subchapters.

1. Back Story (the short version)
(P.S. the original story of this story has an alternate ending, and neither of them are good.)
The first Saturday of Spring Break, my friend N hosted a party at her house. I think my first mistake was letting loose and deciding to drink tequila without my CIT's present. The night included me fingerpainting the face of one guy, and getting a full backrub in the kitchen from this dude, Four. Once again, I forgot the cardinal rule: only drink tequila in the company of people you trust.

Spring break comes, spring break goes, a week later, I'm at a lounge with some of my CITs and some others and I see him again. Hey, I figured after the back rub, we're on a first name basis. We talk, we lime, we kiss (no tequila this time), and he asks to take me out.

I learn he has kids... not one, not two, not three, but 4 kids. And he's 30. And I decided to look past that. And I decided to look past the fact that he's not my usual type, because he sounded responsible, and responsibility is sexy.

Date #1 went decently. Dinner at a steakhouse, good conversating, and plans to meet up after he did some stuff. Conversating consisted of him telling me about his life, and telling me that I could trust him and to call him if I needed anything.

Yet, when it came time to deliver that night, epic fail.

I decided to give him another chance. This Saturday, Imbibe, meet me for 9.

I haven't heard from him since. It's currently 1:33 pm Sunday. WDMC?

So back to the timeline. 9:45 pm. I called the head cougar and have a mini panic attack on the phone, basically trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

10:30 pm. I'm dressed and barely functioning. Head cougar picks me up and tells me wherever I want to go, she'll drive. I tell her point the compass to S and head to Mexico. She tells me she needs to stop and get more gas.

11:15 pm. After some horrible directions (courtesy of me) we end up at the barley room. We start drinking, head cougar's friend says he's coming to check in on us. At this point, i'm kinda numb so I don't disagree.

A shrimp platter, 2 smirnoff Ices, and some golden oldies later, and I'm feeling better. Head Cougar takes me home, where we sit in the car park for a little while waxing poetic about New Mexican Men and Strong Women. We also observe some basketball players in their nocturnal behaviour.

The final part of my therapy was a 3 hour cross country video conversation about all kinds of shit. This time, I obeyed the rules: there were no professions of love, no reminiscing about getting back together, no drunken crying. Just two intoxicated adults talking shit to each other.
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Two drink recipes this time:

First, for Four: Blowjob's revenge.
(http://www.drinksmixer.com/drinkvw12864.html)

1 oz Bailey's® Irish cream
1 oz lime juice

Put lime juice and Bailey's in separate shot glasses. Take the shot of Bailey's first, swish it around in your mouth and swallow. As soon as you swallow take the shot of lime juice.

Second, for the Ex who makes drunken phone calls fun: The Telegraph

(http://www.drinksmixer.com/drink2312.html)
1 1/2 oz RedRum® rum
3/4 oz Stolichnaya® vodka
ginger ale

In a shaker with ice, combine rum and vodka. Shake well and strain into a highball glass filled almost to the top with ice. Top off with ginger ale and stir gently.

Be happy, or at least happily drunk.

The Bartender

Happy Birthday Motherfucker!

Oh, I've been having trouble with this one from day 1! He keeps trying to prove himself as an urban renaissance man and I keep getting a feeling he's full of shit!

I went out of my home base and this one found me at a bar downtown. Once again, I was not actively pursuing anything but my drink. He things I'm cute, he's not bad looking. I take his number.

I call him about a week later.

That's about it so far. Some awkward conversation, eventually a fluid one where he's telling me he thinks he could like me but he needs to see how we mesh first. I was vague, told him that if we did, we did and if we didn't, oh well. I think he was thrown by the fact that I did not immediately try to sell my best points to him: Y'know, I'm loyal, like long walks in the park, I'm house-trained, ..., etc.

So last Thursday, the C-I-T's decided to hold a meeting at headquarters. I'm getting ready when my phone rings. It's him.
What am I doing? Getting ready to go out.
Where? Zinc.
Oh, it's your birthday? Well, happy birthday dude! What are you doing to celebrate?
Oh, you're friends aren't taking you out? Well, you should pass through and visit me at Zinc. Oh, you don't feel like going out tonight? Oh well (sucks to be you). What are you feeling?

At this point, Mr. Man suggested I ditch my friends and come over to his house to help him celebrate. In hindsight, I should have done just that, and showed up with 50 0f my closest friends, and countless other idle strangers from the street, who came with the promise of free unlimited alcohol. But, Karma would come back and bite me in the ass. Plus, I was more interested in not being any later for the meeting than imparting a clue on this fool.

Pause
"I'm so terribly sorry, but I just can't make it."
"You just can't make it?"
"No, I can't."
"You're not coming?"
"No, I'm not. I already told you, I have plans.
Pause.
"Okay."
"All right, bye." I said as I simultaneously left the call and my apartment.

I haven't heard from him since.

Consider that this phone call occurred after 9 pm. True, not officially booty call hour, but I'm in New Mexico, where everything starts and ends earlier. Plus, it was an open invitation to lead to a booty call. I also got the feeling that I was not the first person he called that night... let's see, it's your birthday, you've already ditched your friends early (had to be early because if it were my friends and I canceled on them the afternoon/evening of my birthday after we had already made plans, they would show up at my house to give me hell/drunken me.). So he knows from about, what, noon, that he was going to be alone... let's give him the benefit of the doubt, say that he had a shitty afternoon, and at 5pm, decided to hell with it. That's still a 4 hour delay in the requesting of my company. Hmmm... Ponder that.

Back to the friends scene.... None of his friends wanted to help him celebrate his birthday, even if only with a 6 pack and a cupcake? Hmm... Ponder that too.

Signs are saying to drop him and lose him number... all in favour? Aye!
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Thank you, Drinksmixer.com.

Happy Birthday Motherfucker!

1 1/2 oz Absolut® Citron vodka
1 1/2 oz Tanqueray® gin
1 1/2 oz DeKuyper® Raspberry Pucker schnapps
1 1/2 oz triple sec
1 1/2 oz sweet and sour mix
1 1/2 oz orange juice
1 1/2 oz rum

Add all ingredients to a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes. Shake well, strain into a highball glass, and serve.