Date Number One

Just got back from my date with Wade* (Yes, i'm going to choose the most ridiculous names possible) and interesting is an understatement. I apparently met him once before while drunk at his house party and he thought it would be a good idea to relive that moment... By puking in my lap. No, i'm not joking. When he came to pick me up from work he was already drunk and no I didn't offer to drive because with my driving skills (or lack of) I was better off with him driving under the influence. Anyway, we get to his house, he shows me around and not like he wasn't wasted enough, we light up the huge bong on the coffee table and put in Fight Club. Now there are two things majorly wrong with this picture; one being that Fight Club makes absolutely no sense when you're high, and two being that when he "smoothly" put his arm around my shoulders he decked me in the face, shortly after passing out in my lap while spewing leftovers on my freshly laundered jeans. 

Three good things about this date:

1. I wasn't attacked by rabid, hungry dogs while walking home with regurgitated food on my pants.
2. The bruise on my face is only slight and can easily be covered with make-up.
3. His pride will remain in tact because he most likely won't remember a single thing.