Douchebagicity

Douchebagicity: the art of being a douche. the general essence of a douche bag."I think you're mistaking courteousness for douchebagicity"- Urban Dictionary

I cannot win.

Friday night Happy Hour, I was invited by work friends to join them after their golf fundraiser. Serial Killer in Training who sits beside me and provides insurmountable entertainment, was going to be there and since he lives on the other side of town it was a rare opportunity to grab a drink outside of work. I really didn't want to be around Work Guy, but there were plenty of other people I like from work to talk to. I felt like this was another big step for me.

At the bar I chatted with my old boss before the golfers trickled in. It was a mad house in there, loud, people packed together. I was mildly uncomfortable when the ex strolled in but continued to talk with the others about their game. My biker friend who I'd been friends with for years had agreed to meet up for a drink and a bite to eat. After fighting to get a drink (shot to commemorate our friend who died 11 years ago) we opted to sit outside where we wouldn't get jostled around and could hear.

I told him a bit about the guy inside I used to date and it was like summoning the devil. Mid-conversation, Work Guy sat down at our table and introduced himself as "The Asshole Ex-Boyfriend". My mouth popped open and I was worried my friend would kill Work Guy right then and there. Work Guy said he wanted to make sure that I wasn't sitting outside because he was inside...

How fucking juvenile. Why the hell would I go to a bar with mutual acquaintances, knowing he would be there, and then sit outside to avoid him? I'm sure my venomous glare was interpreted correctly. I informed the misguided toddler who thinks the world revolves around him that we chose to sit outside because it was noisy inside. He kept pushing. Is it just in his character to make people feel like shit? Yes. Yes it is. He is the cruelest man I have ever had the displeasure of seeing naked.

I tried to steer the conversation away from my discomfort. We talked about work, but it quickly became a snippy debate. When I tried to joke about meeting a co-worker who moved from Boston who used to enjoy talking down to me and I had stood up for myself Work Guy laughed, then went on to say that the same guy had been complaining about me to him. Work Guy assumed the guy knew we dated and was being candid with him because he could relate. My blood went cold and I felt the color drain from my face.

"Why would you assume he was talking to you about that because we dated?"

"You know," making a gesture like elbowing someone in the ribs. "Just that I would understand or something because we dated."

"Why? He thought you could commiserate with his "Isn't she a bitch, you should know from experience" camaraderie?"

"No, I just thought he knew."

"Do other people do that?" He paled a bit. This was dangerous ground with his little promotion. It's called hostile work environment, you fuckwad.

So, he went below the belt and announced how all the eastern managers disliked me because I call them out on their shit. He placed the blow like a compliment, the positive aspect of my being straightforward and right. The negative, underlying meaning: no one likes you when you talk. This manipulative man tried his damnedest to pull it off that he wasn't insulting me, but there were too many conversations where I had expressed my sadness about coming off wrong and having people dislike me for it. He used it against me, like he turned everything against me. And all because I went to a work happy hour and sat outside with my friend.

A couple co-workers wandered outside to sit with us and I used that to return inside to get another drink. I really hadn't intended on staying this long and felt bad I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to some other people. My heart was still pounding from Work Guy's masked insults. I wanted to go home, but wouldn't run away. I started to blab to Serial Killer in Training when back comes Work Guy for Round Two.

He started on explaining again he didn't want yo make me uncomfortable, choosing to go where he wasn't at the bar. I was trying to get drinks and talk to people! Was I supposed to sit next to him all night to prove I could? I was shaking now. I looked him straight in the face, wondering how I ever thought him attractive...

"I will go where ever I want to go. It doesn't really matter where you are." It came out blunt so I waived my hands. He laughed uncomfortably like I had given him a gift, shown my anger and true colors. "I know that came out bitchy, but you making me uncomfortable has no bearing on where I choose to hang out."

Then, he looks at Serial Killer and leans into me.

"I think he was a bit edgy around me earlier today at the tournament. So, I told him I heard the rumors Boss made up about you guys calling in sick on the same days. You know, that you guys were seeing each other. And I told him 'Hey it's cool if you've got something going with Kate." Like a punch to the gut. Again, blood went cold and face paled. He had said what? To my friend? I was beyond mortified. This toddler was progressively getting worse.

I leaned into him and said "He has a beautiful girlfriend". Work Guy misheard and thought I was calling his new girlfriend beautiful. Why he would think I would change the subject after he punched me by probably ruining my fun work relationship with Serial Killer, I don't know. Introverted ego maniacal idiot that he is.

"No, he has a beautiful girlfriend. I just sit next to the guy." Then the conversation veered. I went to a socially awkward place and said God knows what else which elicited strange looks from old boss and Serial Killer. I grabbed my beers and all but ran outside.

My friend wanted to kill Work Guy. He spent the next 45 minutes explaining all the people he knows who could be there in a flash to give the guy what he needed, a severe beating. I felt pathetic. I could no longer be buddy buddy with Serial Killer any more without him getting the wrong idea. I would return to work on Monday knowing no one likes me, but everyone pretends to like Work Guy's slimy charms.

What should have been a short evening followed by going home to read a book and fall asleep alone turned into much more drinking with one left over work mate who ranted about his ex, Work Girl. My friend took me home and insisted on talking about why I felt so dejected. I ended up sobbing. Today I have a headache and yet to pick up my car.

I learned two very important things:

1) I am completely over Work Guy
Any residual feelings of love I felt vanished. I miss having a relationship and the happy times associated with that, but Work Guy was, and will always be, a douche bag. Being hurt as deeply as I have been was my own fault for believing he had any redeeming qualities and that he could in any way be sincere about anything that wasn't potentially self serving.

2) I should never go to work happy hours with this company again
I shit where I ate and it is far past time to find a new venue.

Damn Holidays

I have decided that holidays grow evil as you get older. Everything they were marketed to stand for when you were younger curdled into a warped tool to humiliate, disappoint and depress us the older we become.

New Year's:
Child- fun excuse to stay up late and watch TV
Teenager thru young adulthood- fun excuse to get drunk and act inappropriate
Any age after that- Sad reminder that you have no one to kiss at midnight

Valentine's Day:
Child- fun excuse to eat candy and trade cards. Poke fun at boys with cooties who have crushes on you.
Teenager thru young adulthood- Exciting to see if anyone will take you out, send you flowers.
Any age after that- Sad reminder that you are going to have to watch co-workers get flowers then go home to an empty house and be alone

Easter:
Child- fun excuse to eat candy and get stuffed toys, wear a pretty dress
Teenager thru young adulthood- fun excuse to needle mom into continuing to buy candy and pretty dress
Any age after that- Sad reminder that you have no one to buy candy and pretty dresses for.


Memorial Day:
Child- no school!
Teenager thru young adulthood- no school! Good excuse to take a vacation, drink, and act inappropriate
Any age after that- no work! good excuse to clean the house. Sad reminder that you are the only single person at bbqs

Fourth of July:
Child- fireworks!
Teenager thru young adult- fireworks and parties!
Any age after that- can't stay up too late, work the next day. Sad reminder that you have to be in a group to watch fireworks (or stay home and protect wimp dogs from the scary noises)

Labor Day:
See Memorial Day

Halloween:
Child- candy and costumes!
Teenager thru young adulthood- good excuse to dress sexy and act inappropriate
Any age after that- Sad reminder that you have spent too much money on candy for other people's children while you sit at home in jeans and wait for the doorbell to ring

Thanksgiving:
Child- no school!
Teenager thru young adulthood- long weekend!
Any age after that- Sad reminder that your family is dwindling and you now have to take turns cooking just to be fair

Christmas:
Child- no school and presents!
Teenager thru young adulthood- no school and presents!
Any age after that- Everyone is older, less presents, spend more money and a sad reminder that you are alone and have no kids to see get excited on Christmas morning.

Birthdays:
Child- presents and parties!
Teenager thru young adulthood- presents, parties and drinking!
Any age after that- Drinking! because you just got older and will continue to get older until you are too old to live by yourself and the state makes you move.


So, with that being said.... It is seven o'clock on Valentine's Day and I barely took a shower, have yet to brush my teeth and stayed home from work all day just so I wouldn't have to see un-single people getting truckloads of flowers and my ex-boyfriend parading about in the glow of his new relationship.

Back at it

I've been checking out the online thing after a few lonely weekends in which I rarely showered or got dressed, and figured it would cheer me up. Nada. Even the internet hates me. No winks, no emails, no interested parties. Huh. I knew I was lame, but had hoped others might have some faith in me.

Determined to be proactive, I searched on my own throughout the site and winked at a cute guy. Shutting off my computer, I thought "There. I have made some effort." And resumed my lonely life. I wasn't expecting anything, but then when I checked again, not only had he emailed me, but several others had too. What is it with men? Can they smell desperation through their monitors?

So, I emailed back and forth, the same information over and over again. Tried to be humorous, but really? How much can you actually get to know about a person through their key strokes? You can look at their pictures, hear that they like themselves, but in the end it won't be until you actually meet the person face to face that you can find out if you have anything in common. And I can't do that from the safety of my house, unfortunately...

The guy I had taken a proactive step with by "winking" gave me his number and we texted a little before he asked if he could just call. I granted permission.

I shall call him Insurance Guy, because he works for that type of company and I'm not that creative. He was funny, nice manly voice. It was a two and half hour conversation which surprised me. Hell, I was going to end up meeting this one. We agreed to meet up for drinks at a bar close by on Saturday night.

"Last night I talked on the phone with a boy." I told Serial Killer in Training at work the next day. He laughed hysterically.

"A boy?" Shaking his head. "One of your internet dudes? Well, did he ask you out?"

"Yes, I have a date with a boy on a Saturday night. Progress right?"

"If you actually go and don't chicken out, that will be progress. Is he cute?" Sometimes I wonder about this guy. Who asks that?

"I don't know.. In his pictures you can't really tell. He wears hats. I asked him if he has hair which he assured me he does. But he could have a bald spot, you know?" More laughing.

"You asked if he has hair?! You're hopeless."

In a small voice "He still asked me out..."

Chloe came over to my desk and Serial Killer filled her in. I had to show them said pictures of hat, explain our conversation on the phone, fidget uncomfortably. Should I wear a cute dress like the new one I wore the other day? No it looks like an American flag with baseballs on it, they said. (Totally not true by the way.)

Saturday rolled around and I was running late. Curling hair that was newly highlighted, casual makeup that would accentuate my eyes, jeans that would make my legs look longer and but slimmer, black thermal cut a little low and heeled boots. This constitutes dressed up for me. Normally I would be in sweats and a ponytail reading a book with a beer on the patio.

He called ten minutes before we were supposed to meet and I was still trying to get ready. Already at the bar he asked if I wanted him to order my beer... I had ten more minutes!! Why was he early? I told him I was running a little late but would see him soon and then order a beer. After I hung up I thought, did he want to slip something in my drink before I got there? Now I needed to get to this bar and meet a stranger.

When I walked in 15 minutes late, it wasn't that busy so I looked around nervously for Insurance Guy. I still wasn't sure what he looked like. He walked over to greet me. Normal looking guy with dark hair and eyes. Taller than me, thank God. Nice button down dress shirt with jeans. Broad chest, big shoulders.

Over the next 4 hours we had 3 beers, 2 ginormous waters and talked. There were some awkward places when silence infiltrated the flow, but I tried to be fine with that. A cover band started up, female singer began the night with "Rolling in the Deep" which I found ironic. At 11 I said it was time to go. I was hungry and it didn't seem as if there was anything left to do. He refused to let me pay, walked me to my car, gave a brief hug and we parted.

I texted Chloe on my way home, picked up some food and went back to plan A. Sweatpants, beer, book. Chloe wanted details and I put it off. It was your standard first date. He was attractive, but there were no butterflies. There was a bald spot, but nothing drastic. He seemed like a nice guy. It was kind of deja vu Principal style. Upon leaving I thought I wouldn't mind seeing him again, not sure if there was anything there though.

Naturally at work I was asked to recite all that occurred. Serial Killer enjoys my discomfort and I think it makes his work more enjoyable to make fun of me. I would get even some day. Chloe asked all the feely Questions: Spark? Good conversation? Was he cute? Did he ask you out again? Serial Killer asked all the asinine questions: Did you get black out drunk? Did he? Were there shots? Did you see the back seat of his car? What does he drive?

Insurance Guy had texted me on Sunday to let me know he enjoyed meeting me and would like to see me again.
We talked on the phone a day or so later, long conversation in which I regaled him with my food knowledge and dislike for genetically modified foods, consumerism, politics and snow. Sometimes I wonder why I ever open my mouth. Soapbox much?

"I talked on the phone with the boy again last night." Serial Killer snickered.

"Yeah, what did you talk to the boy about?" I told him. "God! What is wrong with you? You're never going to get a boyfriend talking about that shit!"

In a small voice "He asked me out again for dinner Thursday..."

"Yeah, so he can get you black out drunk and get you in the backseat of his car in the parking lot."

"Why must you make everything so dirty." Side bar conversation ensued about my own jokes regarding pickles from Jimmy John's while he preferred the cookies, I mean how can you not find something witty to say about that?

"Look. I'm going to pass down some very important dating knowledge to you. Write this down, you know you're gonna want to put this in your book." I grabbed a pencil and pad of paper because his pearls of wisdom are often straight out of a Tucker Max book.

"First Date: You get coffee or 1 drink. Go through all the fake get to know you bullshit.No one is ever being themselves. Second Date: Dinner and drinks. Start getting to know more of the real stuff. Third Date: Get black out or brown out drunk and find out everything you need to know about that person."

"What is 'brown out drunk'?"

"Eh, that way you remember some of the shit you learned. Oh and if you think you can get it on the first date you move straight to date three. Then there's no need for the second date, or anymore dates really. I prefer that method."

"You're awful."

"Yeah, but I have a girlfriend."

"I still don't believe she exists..."

Thursday night I met Insurance Guy at the Elephant Bar for dinner. Same outfit, different color shirt. I might have to go shopping if I intend to keep seeing this guy. Or do laundry. Huh.

He ordered seared ahi for the appetizer, which surprised me. I had learned he gags at seafood, but I had told him the ahi tastes like steak. He tried and liked. No gagging to both of our delight. We ate and talked, more awkwardness. He insisted on paying again and I spluttered. "Why would you think you needed to pay?" I began to get nervous when he walked me to my car again. Do we kiss? Am I ready to kiss? No, not really. Do I say that if he tries to kiss me or just make it short and move away? In the end he gave me a nice hug and I went to my car.

I sat there checking my phone, my lovely mother had called. Perfect. Then he pulled his car up next to mine on the passenger side. What does he want? Do I get out of the car or roll down the window? He's going to see all the crap in my car... I rolled down the window. Insurance Guy had brought me a book he told me about, fantasy novel, that he thought I would like. It was just laying around his house and he thought it would look better on my shelf. There were the butterflies. Over a book. He had thought to bring me a book. I smiled beatifically up at him.

Maybe he does have potential.