MEN . . . CAN'T LIVE WITH(OUT) 'EM . . . .

So that first week in California I got an email for a date from a former boyfriend, or whatever he called himself. I prefer to think of him as the guy who works for the CIA. You know the type, he's all over me for like 2 months making plans for all kinds of things like going boating or bike riding or what-the-fuck-ever is on him mind at that moment, and talking about vacations we should take. Then, just as soon as I feel comfortable knowing that he's there by my side, WHAM! He's been re-assigned to someone else's life and I'm left defenseless against my own insecurities.

Well, after listening to Dave and my friend Jerry’s' advice I emailed said man back and accepted his offer for a date a week ago. (Who am I kidding? I would have called him anyway - shut up, you've all been there.) So, we chat a bit and make the plan for our hook-up (I mean date) and it's like we haven't missed a beat. I mean it's only been a year or so but hey, who's counting? (Not me anyway)

We head downtown to have dinner/drinks, drinks and more drinks. If I'm going to pick up where we left off - I'm going to need a boat-load of drinks, and of course food - lots of food (that I won't eat because he ALWAYS talks about dieting when we go out to eat (WTF????) Fine, if I can't eat like I want to, I'll spend your money on food that will just sit there and then I'll just drink/drunk on your tab. Dear God and Baby Jesus, why oh why do I like this man?? We start with small talk to catch up. How’s so and so and so and so. What’s new with them? What have you been up to since the last time I saw you (ripping my beating heart from my chest?) You know, light conversation over food and (haunted) spirits.

He then switches the conversation to my travels. Am I still traveling a lot? Where have I been so far this year? And then, then he asks me if I've ever been to San Diego . He knows I have, and I tell him so and when I ask why he asks, and get this, he says that he was just there this past February. I let it go for a minute - he travels for his job too, but has never traveled West before. We start talking about downtown SD and the Gas Lamp District and how much fun it is, yada yada yada, but he only had one night there because his CRUISE left port the next day. (SCREEEEEECCCCCHHHHHH goes the record/music in my head) "What?? You went on a CRUISE?" I ask (scream). "With whom? - Cunt face? (Name has been changed on her behalf).

That FUCKING bitch went on my GODDAMN cruise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! UGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just looked at him and smiled (while I tried to stop the screaming inside my head) and simply said, "We need more drinks." Inside I was seething and what I really wanted to do was punch him in the balls, but I decided I'd hit him where it would hurt him more and make me feel a whole lot better; his wallet. I then told the bartender that I was feeling adventurous and to make me anything "tropical" and with an umbrella. You know the kind; the put-every-kind-of-alcohol-in-the-drink-to-make-it-more-expensive (since it's on him and oh yeah, give yourself a big fat tip.) So I ordered 2 or 10 drinks like this (shots too) to help me forget that I didn't go on a cruise this past February (it didn't work) but it did make me forget about kicking his head in. We sat there for a few more hours, drinking enough to cover the cost of another cruise, and started talking about past Jimmy Buffet concerts (his hand on my knee) and being on the boat up at the lake (his hand on my thigh) with his friends and maybe (hand moving all over) we'll go again this summer. Yada yada yada - here we go again. . . . I hate him, I really do - but I like making out and yada yada yada-ing more. (Whatev - all bets are off when you’re drunk.)

BTW - Cunt-face is out of the picture (of course she is - she got MY cruise and then ditched the rat bastard)