It was a beautiful Friday afternoon. I was looking forward to my evening drinks later with a tall, handsome, bearded, creative musician. In other words, my perfect type. Friends from work were going out for an after work beer, and feeling jittery, I agreed to join them. While we sat on the patio, sun beating down, sweat beginning to form on my upper lip, I felt hopeful. I could get over J, I could be happy again. I smiled to myself when I heard J's voice. What are ya doing here? he said in his East Coast accent. Just leaving I explained. I paid my bill and said my goodbyes.
J followed me downstairs. I tried to explain I was running late, I tried to get away. But his old dirty blue car was parked right in front of us. I agreed to let him drive me. First bad decision of the night. Next bad decision, telling him where I was going. Third bad decision, was stomping into the restaurant to meet my date with tears running down my face.
It only went downhill from here, it only became worst. M, my date, did not want to hear about how bad J treated me as I sobbed over too many draft beers and pasta with fresh Parmesan.
The moral of the story is plan better. Don't ruin the first date you have had in three months, by getting dropped off by your ex.