Today sucked. The rest of this week will suck. Oh yeah, I'm trying to think positive.
So yesterday was Easter and I went to my sister's. I hadn't seen her or the kids since Christmas, so it was long overdue. I hate that her kids are like little extended speakers of what she's thinking. For example: My teenaged neice said this to me when I walked in the door "Hey stranger, we haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?" It took quite a bit of effort on my part NOT to say "Well gee, no one invited me out here and I live an hour and a half away now and I have my own life sooooo....what do you have to say about THAT you little BRAT?"
All of a sudden, the responsibility of being an Aunt it kind of too much for me. Why do I need to feel guilty? It's not like I don't buy them presents on their birthdays. And plus, my sister and brother in law have all of them so busy that my only option lately for visiting is to attend an indoor soccer game (UGH) or take the chance of running into my mother (double UGH)...or both of those things. I'm just so sick of being made to feel like I'm the bad guy.
Now what you've all been waiting for:
So Friday night's date with GRT was pretty much a bust. We met a little early for drinks, he downed two Jack and Coke's and was quickly drunk, because has the stature of a...gay russian teen. His voice was still cracking all over the place (nerves, puberty, whatever) and he kept looking at me like I was crazy, when I said the most inane things. Or at least to me they were inane. Then we went to dinner, which was kind of awkward because he's a soft talker and it was a loud (and small) Italian restaurant. I gave up asking him to repeat himself after a while and just started nodding and talking more. We started to get into talking about movies and actors and stuff, which was cool and kept my interest, but it REALLY bothered me that he was only eating the inside of the crusty bread they brought us to munch on. He wasn't eating the crust, which is the best fucking part. I asked if his Mom used to cut off the edges of his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for him and he looked at me, dumbfounded and said "No...why do you ask?" Then I looked from him to the bread carcasses and back again, trying to give him a hint and he still wasn't tuning in. Painful.
Then it was 9ish and he asked if I wanted to have another drink at his place. I was all, yeah whatever...mostly because I was interested in seeing his apartment, because he lives IN the North End and I had never been into an apartment in the North End...and I had a feeling it would be a pretty sweet place. I was right. Other than that, you may think that accepting an invitation back to his place was leading him on. I disagree.
Then it got really awkward. We were sitting on his couch and I was drinking beer out of a can (classy) and feeling not so fresh, mostly because I had come straight from work and it's 80 degrees in my office, which turns me into a big sweat monster as the day wears on because I...you know, actually move around. Then he does the ole yawn and stretch move to put his arm over me (like we are at the drive in and it's 1955) and uses his hand to turn my head towards him. Then he lays one on me and I almost throw up in my mouth. Why was I so revolted? I'm not sure. It might have had something to do with the fact that he was about the same size as my 11 year old nephew. (Ok, as crazy as this is, GRT is actually calling me AS I WRITE THIS). So, I needed to think fast. I didn't want to completely crush this kid, because he was polite and nice, and he did refuse any assistance in paying for dinner. I came up with a "You know, I should go. I'm really stressed out about work and I'm not completely here, it's not fair to you blah blah blah." Then the creepy shit starts to happen. He starts telling me about how lonely he is because he's been on a boat for four months (he's in one of the armed ocean forces) and he starts begging me to stay and make out with him. He literally said "You should stay and make out with me. It's ok. Please?!"
I left SO fast, it isn't even funny. I didn't even know where I was going or how to get back to the T (not so familiar with North End) but I didn't care. I just needed to get out.
Upon figuring out where I was (who knows how), I felt kind of guilty and dirty and just...bad. I was so sad for him, and sad for myself. Because this is just one of many of these terrible first dates.