The "Ass" Man

Not all of my dates have been via online dating websites. I have actually met men in bars. The only thing is...they seem to be just as odd as the online guys...

12/2010: The "Ass" Man

You ever have one of those work weeks, where when the end of it finally arrives you just want to go out and have anywhere between one to eight drinks? There was a weekend in December where that happened to me. My friend Charlotte* and I decided to grab drinks at this little place in North Portland, and then headed for the Boiler Room to watch some awesomely bad karaoke. At the time, Charlotte was in a relationship, but was a terrific wingman. She would strike up a conversation with a man, discover he was single, then pretty much toss him in my lap and wish me luck.

While watching someone literally MURDER Billy Idol "Rebel Yell", a gentleman happened to curtsy to a woman while he passed with his beverage. This caught the eye of Charlotte and myself, since it was rare to meet a man who would even say "excuse me" in a bar when he bumped into someone, yet alone bow in a graceful manner towards them. She approached him about this maneuver, while I let my ears bleed into my beverage. They danced briefly, before she headed him in my direction.

I introduced myself, "Hi, I'm Alison, one L". You may laugh that I specified this, but you have no idea how often my name is misspelled. For some reason, I decided to try and use my constant correction of name spelling as a line. "Hi, I'm Casey*, one S, cause two would make me an ass" he replied. Since I was slightly intoxicated, I found this a bit on the witty side. We continued to talk, when I discovered he went to University of Washington...aka he was a Husky. I happen to be an Oregon Duck fan, who happen to be bitter rivals of the Huskies. Upon hearing this fact, I quoted my favorite anti-Husky shirt: "You know, Ted Bundy was a Husky." And how did he reply? "Well, you know us Huskies like to go big or go home. So if you're going to be a serial killer, you may as well go all out."

How I didn't run away at this alone, I still have no idea. I blame the alcohol. Again, I found it witty.

We danced for a bit to some terrible singing, and I wound up putting my number in his iPhone. I should also mention, that to try and impress me, he said he worked for Apple. I later told Charlotte I figured he just worked for the Mac Store. (Turned out, I was totally right. He managed a Mac Store at the mall by my house.)

About two weeks later, while I'm house sitting for some family friends, I get a call from a Washington number. It's Casey. I was surprised he even hear from him, since I figured he's be too drunk to even remotely remember meeting me. (it was his birthday the night we met, and he was at least five sheets to the wind). We set up a time to get brunch the first weekend of the new year, and texted occasionally after that.

He made reservations at Mother's Bistro in downtown Portland. I had never been there, but always wanted to. I hate parking downtown, but luckily enough, there is a pay-to-park lot right across the street from the bistro. I saw him waiting outside (I was about 10 minutes early), parked my car, and went to the self serve pay area to pay for my spot. I slid my card in, the screen said error. I tried again, error. I must have stood in front of that machine for about three minutes, each time it giving me an error. Now, I usually pride myself on being able to finagle those machines to do what I want them to. This one, no such luck. Not to mention, I could feel Casey watching me from across the street, with a look of "WTF is her problem?"

I finally gave up and went to meet Casey standing in front of the restaurant. I explained my pay-to-park issues, and he walked me back across to try and help me. There was an older man there at that point, who had absolutely no problem getting his card to work. I started to get frustrated, when Casey took my card, slid it once, and it worked just fine. Embarrassed, I took my parking ticket, placed it in my car, and headed off to brunch.

We made the usual small talk, asked the generic first date questions..."Where did you go to school?", "Where did you grow up?", "What do you do for a living?". It became pretty apparent there was absolutely no chemistry. Not to mention, he forgot I was a Duck fan. I should clarify, I'm not the rabid fan who would rather die than see the Beavers, Huskies or Cougars win a game. If any of them happened to be playing the Ducks, though, I'm going to route for Uof O of course. So, that made conversation slightly awkward from that point on.

I ordered an omelette, which happened to have full cloves of roasted garlic in it. Inside, I was doing a little happy dance, since I knew I could use this to fight him off in case he went for a kiss. But, just to be on the safe side, I pointed this out vocally. "Oh wow...I didn't realize this had full cloves of garlic in it. I'll be able to fight off vampires with this stuff!" While we ate, I asked him about his "Casey with one S because two would make me an ass" line, since I had never met a Casey with two S's. He claimed to not remember ever saying that, but said he specified the spelling since he actually did work with a Casey with two S's, and figured he'd try and be clever. I can't knock him, since I pulled the "one L" line.

After we finished our awkward brunch, I offered him gum. He replied stating his dentist actually recommended he not chew gum, since his jaw were unusually strong. I didn't ask him to go into any greater detail. He walked me back to my car and asked if I had any plans for the next few hours, since I had a surprise birthday party to go to that evening. I said I should probably get back to my dogs at home, but thanked him for the nice time. As I got in my car, he wandered past the passenger side of my car, almost seeming lost. He then mumbled to himself, and awkwardly turned around and headed back towards the restaurant. I sped home immediately, never to hear from the "ass" man again.

*names changed to protect identities