Sunday, June 15, 2014
I never have trouble starting a tale of despair and disaster in the world of blogging but tonight I find myself at a loss. I am trying to figure out what the problem is and all I can come up with is that I am getting tired of dating. It is literally exhausting both physically and emotionally. Not even a glass (or jug) of Merlot can pep me up and snap me out of this dating funk. Okay, it may not cure what is ailing me but it sure does dress up my wounds in a beautiful burgundy colored bandage. I suppose what I am getting at is that this particular story may not have much whit, lessons or sex but as always I guarantee that it will possess the sad and pathetic truth (and a name change to protect the guilty).
I can't really say what it was that got into me this particular lonely evening but I decided to scroll through the endless rolodex of available Vegas bachelors online. After the first 50, they all start to morph into the same looking guy. Let me paint the picture for you. The Vegas bachelor is shirtless and standing in front of his bathroom mirror flexing and showing off whatever muscles are toned on his upper body. He is holding his phone while displaying his biceps snapping that one photo that will make the women swoon. All the while he has forgotten to tidy up the counter in front of him or wipe off the toothpaste/spit combo speckled on his mirror. Their profiles suggest that not only are they physically fit but that they are also serious about finding their partner. Sure they spend their free time riding quads, eating healthy, watching sports, shooting targets in the desert, taking care of homeless children, feeding the hungry and working out in the gym but they still have plenty of time for that one special woman. After looking at the last profile before calling it quits, I got a message. DING! The message was from this tall, dark, handsome and seemingly successful man who was in his early 40's named Devon. He didn't say much but mentioned that he liked blondes and if I would like to get to know each other to please reply. After scanning his bio online, I decided to reply. He seemed different and interesting. He owned an athletic shoe company and was partnered up with a famous NBA player. No no, I wasn't immediately drawn to dollar signs or free shoes (okay maybe one pair) but I was more excited at the thought of someone having a job and ambition. So we exchanged messages throughout the evening and the next day spoke on the phone. After a lot of chit chat, he asked me out on a date.
Let's refill before we go on.... Logistics can really make a gal thirsty!
Three days after first talking to Devon, we met. He had asked me to meet him at The Venetian at a nice little Italian restaurant where we could sit by the canal that runs through the casino and afterward take a ride on the Gondola. What? Wait a minute! We aren't meeting at a dive bar or a frozen yogurt eatery where I can sit and listen to you tell me how fat women are submissive or leave me at the table while you go to the bathroom and I never see you again?? I was so ill prepared for such a date! No jeans and sexy top, no no, this required a dress, heels and lots of hairspray. After all, he said he was 6'8" tall and seeing as how I am merely 5'10", I had some height to make up for. Platform shoes and at least 4" of teased blonde locks and I was armed and ready to go. I arrived right on time and as I approached the restaurant, I spotted Devon sitting at a table for two. At first glance I immediately knew it was him because he was decked out in his own athletic gear from head to toe. I then noticed how much older he looked than his photos but still very good looking. I approached him and he stood up and hugged me. He said he spotted me a mile away because of my bright blonde hair. Why do people always point this out to me? Clearly I am not the only one with platinum hair and an amazing hair stylist! So we sat down and he handed me my menu while pointing out that while he was waiting for me, he already decided on what to eat. Woah! Slow down bro, I wasn't late. Let me catch up! While he was utilizing the art of small talk and I surveyed the selections, I noticed that my menu seemed a bit limited for such a nice restaurant. There were only two choices for everything including entrees. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't there for the meal but it just seemed a bit strange. If I was one of those girls who merely went on first dates for a free meal then I wouldn't go through so much trouble of beautification and callus causing shoes. The server came to our table and proceeded to take our orders. Although Devon only chose water to drink, I of course opted for my own preference in liquid refreshment (one tall glass of red, thank you).
Our conversation was off to a running start! All I had to do was ask about his shoe company and how it got started. BOOM! He had so much to say that I didn't have to say a word. My job was merely going to entail just sitting there, nodding my head and look pretty. I found myself a bit intrigued by his story of how he got started and how shoes are made and then we were interrupted. To my right, just outside of the eating area, there were people standing and staring at us. One started taking photos. Then another couple slows down and starts whispering. I asked "Do you know them? Do they know you? What's going on?" He sort of laughed and said that they must think we are "somebody famous" because he is a tall black guy wearing athletic gear and I am the big breasted blonde seated with him. No sooner did he say those words that we hear one lady say out loud, "That's Coco but that isn't Ice T." Our sudden fame continued on throughout our meal but eventually we ignored it all and he continued to talk while I was sure to sit up right and smile pretty (Lord knows where those pictures could surface someday). Despite the tourist paparazzi and his endless supply of conversation (about himself) I really enjoyed my meal and then the server reappeared offering us a choice of two desserts. I declined but opted for another glass of wine. After all, being a new celebrity is exhausting.
After dessert and wine, he asked if I would care to take a ride on the Gondola. Hmmm... with all of that talk, photos and wine, I somehow forgot to see if I was even attracted to this guy. Well after careful thought, I came to the conclusion that I really had no idea other than I loved his passion for what he does. So I told him that I would like to join him.
Grab your glass and make sure it is at least half full for what I am about to tell you...
The server then arrived and said to Devon "Sir, your prepaid 2 for 1 coupon does not cover the wine." GULP! Without even batting an eyelash, Devon pointed at me and said, "Give her the bill for the wine then." GULP! Not that I am opposed to paying for my own meal or wine (hell I do that daily) but this guy used a coupon and if you are keeping score, he owns an athletic show company and let's just say, I do not! After I realized he wasn't kidding, I pulled out my wallet and paid my part of the bill and as I closed my wallet he pipes up and asks, "Will you take care of the tip too?" I opened my wallet back up and pulled out the tip money and placed it on the table and jokingly quipped, "Do you need any cab fare before I put it away?"
Devon laughed and then motioned for us to get up and go. We walked out towards the Gondola and he pulls out this ticket from his pocket and started to read it. He then informed me that his free tickets have expired and apologized. If things weren't interesting enough already, wouldn't you know it, a young girl walks up to us and asks if she could have his autograph. He told her in a simple yet sarcastic sort of way, "No, I am not who you think I am.".
Wait for it... wait for it...
After quick assessment I concluded that this night was just an entire pile of bizarre and it was time to go. I didn't feel any spark (unless you count the flash from the strangers taking photos), he was cheap, self absorbed and now rude to young girls. At that moment I told him that we should call it a night and I was going to go home. He leaned over, hugged me and asked if I would give him a ride back to his place. Yeah, I thought he was joking too, but no such luck. He then went on to explain that back in California he was involved in a hit and run and didn't take responsibility for it so his license is suspended because he refuses to pay the $16,000 worth of fines he has now accumulated. Luckily my scrunched up facial expression answered that question for him because he then chuckled and said not to worry about it, he will take a taxi. I suppose I am lucky he didn't take me up on that offer for cab fare after all! I turned and walked away (would've ran but platforms don't allow for that) saying goodnight.
The next morning while I was enjoying a lovely glass of orange juice (and vodka) and still shaking my head over the events that took place the night before, my phone alerted me to a text. Guess who? Devon text to say that he loved our date and hoped to do it again very soon. I really didn't know what to say so all I did was reply with "It was nice meeting you too." I didn't want to suggest doing it again but I did want to say that if he had anymore interesting prepaid coupons for a show like Celine Dion, then sure, I am game. But no, I left it at that, finished my morning beverage and went about my life... All by myself...
Okay, if you didn't pick up on that Celine Dion reference then you need to drink more...