The Series of Unfortunate Dates

So, in the wake of my last breakup post, I feel like I need to redeem myself with the beginning of a small series I am going to call....

“The Series of Unfortunate Dates” 

(Aka the Curious Cases of Boys Behaving Badly)

These are 100% TRUE stories about some of the WORST dates I have ever been on. Without further adieu, I humbly introduce you to the FIRST of many...

Jay, the Drunk

***please note names have been changed to save these individuals their dignity... although... they didn't seem to care at the time***

I met Jay at a restaurant I worked in Yaletown.

The restaurant, not that popular or busy, provided an atmosphere where I got to get to know my patrons, the Yaletown "regulars."

 Jay was a taller, kind of quirky Brit, who had immigrated to Canada several years previously; a successful film industry worker.

 As a former broadcaster myself, I would always enjoy the tidbits of gossip Jay would fill me in on. He would come in once every few weeks, buy the staff a round or three (because drinking on shift was not only encouraged, but was heavily supported by the now former manager, who would be blind drunk by the end of every shift...) so, he was well received by the staff there.

I was one of the new girls at the restaurant, and a "reliable veteran" of the staff pulled me aside one afternoon to tell me that Jay had a thing for me. She went on to tell me he was one of the nicest guys ever, and although he was a bit plain on the outside, I would be a certifiable jerk if I didn't at least give the guy a shot. And as per my last post.... You know how I feel about being a jerk.

So after a long day of work he asked me if I wanted to get a drink sometime. I figured, why not... I was single and a date couldn't be so bad, even if I wasn't that physically attracted to the guy.

 Boy.... how wrong could I be.

Fast forward a month and Jay comes in to see me and his appearance is a little disheveled.  I brushed his appearance off given his quirky personality and thought maybe he had too much sun while snowboarding that day. (Retrospectively, should have considered a head injury) But, despite the looming future, I got off early and he and I headed off to a little lounge in Yaletown.

When we arrived and sat down I came to the realization, that Jay was not just being strange, he was wasted. I mean, the type of wasted I would equate to four hours past white girl wasted.

For those of you not familiar with the term white girl wasted, the definition is as follows:
To be black out drunk and extremely sloppy, often including acting embarrassing, screaming insults, crying, and not limited to singing songs like “Don’t Stop Believin' by Journey, and possibly table dances.

Well Jay had surpassed this term, by a few hours at least. His demeanor, disheveled and graying, became more hunched over and glassy eyed as the night went on. His elbow resting on the table, while leaning extremely close to the center caused him to continually knock things over with his emphatic hand movements.

 Every word that came out of his mouth was either incoherent, followed by a drool chaser or some sort of derogatory insult.

[Please note these are direct quotes]

 "Now Elemia, (no Jay, its Emelia) oh... yes... Emelia, why would you work in an industry that provided you with little to no.... you know I told you that you would be better........... Why aren't you doing something that is less.....? Interesting?" 

"I... uhhh.... really would like to know more about your...... uhhh....... your..... Smile is the reason why I liked you so much and your head... on your shoulders.... yes."

"I told you... why wouldn't you aim to be something, a little less.................embarrassing?"

I then tried to steer him towards talking about something positive, as his condition was declining rapidly. So I asked about his family, in which he plainly stated while spitting his water across the table, "My family is none of your [expletive] business"

I proceeded to attempt to talk about anything, and everything. But he shut me down with one word answers, or rather simply "I am not going to talk about that."  Including the weather.

By the time the server came to take our order, Jay had obnoxiously detailed that it's only efficient to order two glasses of wine rather than one, to avoid being short changed. So he glared as he spat his order at the poor server. I apologetically ordered a soda water, as well as some food as he appeared to be in dire need of it.

As he stared off into the apparent abyss, I looked over at a table of guys sitting across from us, clearly laughing at my date’s appearance. Never so badly in my life had I wanted to mouth "HELP ME" to a group of complete strangers. But I was determined to try and end this without upset, so I persevered.

When the food arrived I had realized I needed to leave (better late than never), and the sooner the better. His demeanor began to slide (as if it wasn't bad to begin with) and he took a bite of his hummus and toast... held it in his hand.... and then, as if I couldn't be even more shocked... he fell asleep.

 In retrospect, I should have just gotten up and left. But as I was a server at the time and in my right conscience I couldn't leave without knowing he had settled his tab, so I stayed and ordered the bill.
At this point, he was in full REM cycle, elbow propped on the table, hummus and bread in his hands. I knew I had to wake him. I cautiously shook my passed out date and he woke with a start. In his shocked awakening, as if it couldn't get any worse, he proceeded to smear the hummus all over the side of his face and through his hair.

At this point I had to excuse myself and I went into the bathroom and called my mother (read my first blog post to get up to speed). I told her I was on a date with a passed-out-sitting-up-hummus-covered-cranky-when-drunk-guy who spent the evening insulting me or telling me to mind my own business, and she just laughs at me. 'Just leave" she said. 'Quietly, don't wake him up or he might follow you home."

On a side note, a week later I got another Dr. Phil book in the mail from her "The Five Biggest Dating Mistakes You Didn't Even Know You Were Making."

I came out from the bathroom, looked over at this guy who is still sleeping in the lower-lip hanging-gravity-defying-hand-in-mid-air clutching his cracker with some spit and humus congealing at the end of his chin. This was the breaking point (again, better late than never) as I had never seen anything like this in my whole life.
I looked at him, food smeared across his face, a glazed look in his eyes, and I said the only thing I could:

"Jay, I went on a date with you because I thought you were charming and kind. I still think you are kind... although charming maybe not so much. I believe you have a problem with alcohol or other drug abuse.... and I really want to see that you seek the help you need... because I know you're not this person. I am sorry that I am going to do this, but I have to leave because it’s no longer appropriate I sit here while you insult me, and smear food all over your face. I really hope you get the help you need..."

 I gave him a hug, got some hummus in my hair, and left... after I settled the tab

Upon leaving I felt like perhaps someone had punked me... and that Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out laughing about how hilarious my face looked....I was partially outraged, hysterical with laughter, dumbfounded, and a little bummed I was out forty bucks (hummus is expensive in Yaletown) for the dinner.

Never again did I go on a date that someone at that restaurant recommended, the veteran later admitted she didn't want Jay asking her out anymore so she encouraged his interest knowing that he had a substance abuse issue... and if Jay ever reads this... I really hope that you got the help you needed.


Please stay tuned for the second episode in the Series of Unfortunate dates entitled....

Tony... the Table Feeder 

  Until next time,

Emelia xx

Tweets by @EmeliaCoryn