Still Alive...And Hating

I’ve heard it said that every strength is also a weakness. I’m beginning to think that’s true, especially when focused on the events of and following my company Christmas party.

First thing’s first, though. Yes, there was plenty of debauchery, flirting, and an inhuman amount of drinking. I never did meet up with Li’l Terrorist…though chances are good I left a number of incoherent, belligerently drunk messages on his voice mail. Jack Saddle, true to form, got thrashed enough to fight not only a bouncer, but also my date. This led to mixed feelings on my part. On one hand, it was hilarious to watch. On the other, it all but guaranteed me going home alone at the end of the night. A co-worker wrote a bit about the goings-on of the night (and about me), but if anyone cares to look, I’ve posted pictures from the evening here.

But on to the fun stuff...well, interesting stuff, anyway. My date for the night was a friend of a friend whom I’d flirted with over text message and via drunken phone call. Though my recollection of the night is hazy, I seem to remember that with the exception of the fight with my friend and a mix-up with a cab, she enjoyed herself. So I decided to find out whether she was planning on visiting my neck of the woods again soon.

Now, here’s where things take a turn and where I realized that my greatest strength is also my Achilles Heel. Jack Saddle once told me that the thing he admired most about me was my willingness to speak my opinion regardless of consequence, be they social or physical. When I inquired whether Ms.-I’ll-Come-To-Your-Party-And-Let-You-Buy-Me –Drinks-All-Night would like to get together again, she became evasive.

This was a tactical mistake. Because I think nothing of telling someone, “You’re too ugly for me to date” I assume that everyone has the balls to be upfront. So when I hear phrases like, “I’ve got a lot of work coming up,” “I just got out of a relationship,” and “I don’t know when I’ll be in the area again” I take them not as a kind attempt to spare my feelings, but as a sign that I’m not even thought highly enough of to be spoken to as an adult.

The fact that the stories were so weak is just an additional slap in the face. I mean, as long as we’re lying, why not come up with some amusing lies.

• “I can’t date you because I’m already married to the sea.”
• “Tomorrow I’m returning to my home-planet with information to enslave mankind.”
• “I no speak English.”
• “I’ve already been impregnated by the Lord. He’s HUGE and, frankly, I don’t think you’ll measure up.”
• “I’m really a man.”
• “I’d love to! But just so we get this out of the way now: I have herpes. How’s Friday at 8 sound?”

Maybe I’m out of line, but I just want to be treated with honesty. That’s all I ask. I lashed out at this girl in a way that was probably uncalled for: picking apart her every excuse and refusing to simply crawl off crushed and humiliated.

I’m looking back at it now completely unsure whether I was right or wrong. If I were really interested in this girl, the correct thing to do would be to let the issue drop and go back to being charming and funny until she gave me another chance. But it goes so against my nature to repress my feelings…plus, fuck that. Weak lies deserve nothing less than instant and shameless retribution.

She’s a nice girl, and I don’t carry any sort of grudge against her, but she’s got some work to do if she wants to repair the damage she’s done to my opinion of her. Then again, I suppose that she doesn’t really care. That’s sort of the point of all this.

OK, enough of me venting. Tomorrow I’ll be back with funny shit. Provided I don’t get an email that my New Year’s date is going to busy “Washing her hair.”