This evening, had I followed my instincts...
Had I listened to my gut...
If only I'd listened when L told me to just cancel...
Then This Man wouldn't be sitting just at 11:46pm pounding away on this keyboard, in an attempt to release the anger and frustration brought on by my meeting with WX.
I'll replay the evening. As I'd mentioned previously, WX is a friend of a friend's and he'd been in San Diego for just over a year now. He and I met initially while chatting in the San Diego room on Gay.com.
We chatted off and on but never set an actual time when we would get together and meet one another in public. Neither one of us could make the time to set up the date. In the meantime, This Man continued to chat with him and correspond by email and voice mail. Until tonight.
I' d received an email from WsrcX this week, saying that we should get together for a drink some time during the week; nothing fancy just getting together to finally meet each other in person.
It seemed harmless enough, so I agreed. We settled on tonight.
And that's where everything went wrong.
I spoke to WX early in the evening and we agreed to meet at Bacchus House around 10 p.m. for Latin Night. Since I didn't have to work tomorrow, I figured "what could be the harm".
I would soon find out.
The first sign that I shouldn't have left the comforts of my house was my awful stomach ache.
L had prepared some penne rigate (complete with beef and tomato sauce, and This Man practically drowned it in olive oil), that was so heavy that you could've anchored an aircraft carrier with it. So after polishing off a meal like that, This Man wanted nothing more than to take a Maalox and call it a night.
But reluctantly I went to meet WX because I didn't want to flake out on him and to tell the truth, I was a bit curious to meet him. So with more effort than normally required, I dragged myself upstairs to get dressed. I was supposed to meet him at 10 when in fact, This Man didn't leave the house until after 10.
Nevertheless, I finally arrive close to 10:30. When I walked into Bacchus, I spotted WX immediately (possibly because he was the only gringo in a room full of Latinos). I put on the best smile that I could muster and even I wasn't convinced that I was happy to see him. While having my first drink (he had to have been on his 8th--and was still running a tab) we, more like he, chit chatted. Since I was barely in the moment, I'll list some of the key words that I heard from his portion of the dialogue.
"I...I...me...I'm...business for myself...not like Amway...I want to be rich...I know a lot of people in here...just want to take care of my parents...love the military...I...I...I used to date that guy...want another drink...I...I..."
And on and on just like that it went. But that's not the half of it. Just as I was about to conclude that perhaps he was a bit drunk and maybe nervous, he introduces me to one of his exes, a guy who instantly was looking at me with suspicion. But This Man is cordial, and I attempted to shake hands and say hello. But what do I get in return, a limp grasp and a bitter stare.
This Man certainly wasn't in the mood for this--and I didn't have to take it!
Throughout the hour that I was with WX, his ex came past us, eyeing me suspiciously each time until even I was sick of seeing him. All the while, WX is enjoying it. Instantly, I started planning my escape. Here's why.
In the back of the club there's a dance floor and apparently there was to be a drag show. Let me tell you about This Man and drag queens. I loathe them! I fear them the way some people fear clowns (dramatic, I know, but you get the point). When I tell WX this, what does he do...suggest we go back there and see the show! To stress my point and to make sure that he understood me, I looked him dead in the eyes and said seriously, "NO!" It wasn't funny to me at all.
This get together was not looking good and I was get angrier by the second, so angry that when the straight couple, who were dancing to salsa stepped on my foot, I pushed them with more force than the situation required. WX noticed; he was supposed to.
The final straw came when after listening to him go on and on and continue to pressure me to drink with him, he finally suggested that I accompany him to the bathroom, to which I responded, "We're not girls and you know where it is." He argued that he wouldn't be able to find me once he returned and I told him that I would be outside smoking. When he took off, so did I.
I started in front of the club, but at that moment I learned something about myself. I didn't deserve this. WX was not the type of person that I wanted to associate myself with. And while This Man certainly can't tell you what I'm looking for in a potential partner or friend, I can tell you what I'm not looking for. And that's men like him.
As I was driving away from that place, smoking my cigarette with more effort than required, I couldn't help but wonder if I had been a bit unfair in my judgment of him. But I had to conclude that I was more than fair. WX presented himself the way he wanted This Man to see him; a drunken, loudmouthed, touchy-feely drama queen.
And to tell the truth, This Man deserves better.

Mahalo