Dramatic Sigh

That’s the new rule around these parts. NO LICKING MY NECK. Bluh. Especially especially especially if I don’t know you, but probably not even if I do because I am not a fan of spit all over the place and then I just want a beach towel to wipe myself off. Do not do it. It makes me shudder just thinking about it. It’s very sad that I have to actually say that this is a rule, but APPARENTLY some people don’t get that. Like last…Saturday? Friday? Whenever. Doesn’t matter. I was talking to Rachel about how douchey some men can be (not all of you, don’t get your man-ties in a bunch), and my back muscles started getting tighter and tighter thinking about last Fraturday. Therefore: blog.

SO. The night started out just fine, with a few of us meeting a friend for his birthday. He had a couple of male friends with him, and we were all having a good time, when this girl started talking to one of the guys. She was…huge. Not fat huge, although she was rather overweight. Just enormous, at least 5 or 6 inches taller than him and she sort of looked like one of those people who would Hulk Smash if she didn’t get her way. When she turned around, he asked if one of us girls would help him out. The next time she started talking to him, I stuck my arm through his and politely introduced myself. She got the hint and left,  and I told him he had to do the same for me, since I was certainly not trying to get any numbers. He agreed and for awhile, the plan worked well.

Except.

This particular guy got skeevier and ickier the drunker he got. My friend warned me that he was a douche, but I figured since I had made it clear that I wasn’t looking to hook up with anyone, it would be ok. And it was fine (and helpful since some of the creepiest guys ever hit on me and were turned away by his presence), until he tried to kiss me at last call. I turned my head and said, “Nooo, no thank you. I think it’s time you closed your tab.” I led him to the bar, where he promptly stood behind me with both arms on the bar, and pressed his junk all up against my ass. He actually had the guts to say, “I think you like it a little bit.” I managed to hold my gag reflex in check and mouthed “HELP ME!” to the bartender. The bartender is an asshole, though, and apparently remembered the time last year that I got hammered and threw a penny (or 12) at him to get his attention*, so he took his sweeeet time. Bastard. Meanwhile, Sleazebag McPervertson is trying to lick my neck.

Class, what did we discuss about neck licking?
(Don’t do it!)
Very good! Gold stars for everyone!

So there I am, pelvis thrust forward to avoid his advances in that area, head turned at an awkward angle to avoid that mess, and desperation on my face, and finally the bartender put on his nice pants and came to close the tab. In the meantime, Grossface has picked up a half full beer that someone left on the bar, and drank it. In horror, I asked if he had really just done what I thought he did, and he said, “Yeah, and I’m about to finish this other one too.” OH MY FUCKING GOD! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I wrestled the other beer out of his hand and gave it to the bartender, whereupon Knobgobbler yelled, “Yeaaah! Taking beer away from me, that’s a good way to get a tip!” I almost lost my shit right there. Instead of beating him to death with a barstool, I (relatively) calmly handed him his id and card, turned him around, and ordered him to find the rest of the group. Meanwhile, I added a tip to his tab, and signed it. Illegal? Probably. Ok, definitely. The only possible solution? Pretty much. Fucking jerk. The bartender said he waited to come over because he “thought we were making a connection.” Oh hardy har.

On  the way out, he tried to get my attention, and I quite literally ran across the street. And then I went home and took a shower and scrubbed all my skin off. And made angry snorting noises. And barfed. That last one is a lie.

The lesson is that I should have let Hulk Smash girl have him. I am never being nice to someone again. Ever ever ever.

*Side note: Do not do this. Even if it’s a year later, your hair is grown out, and you don’t think they’ll remember you as that fucking jackass who threw shit? They totally will.