Code BLUE

 

Okay, so this escapade begins with a website…. It’s now commonly associated with a serial killer unfortunately. Perhaps you’ve heard of it, Craigslist.

Now I want to say that this happened before the website had its very own serial killer associated with it. I’m not that crazy. My mother taught me to stay away from serial killers.

I liked to browse the personals and missed connections on Craigslist. He happened to have posted in the personals. His personal basically said, seeking dinner companion, great conversation, and no pressure.

He was from Atlanta. I had plans to go to a wine tasting that a friend was hosting so I invited him along with me.  This made our meet up safe for me. I’m in an environment surrounded by people I know. Wine tastings also have free hors d’oeuvres. So it was a win win for both of us.

When I saw him he was a little different than his pictures. I was expecting slim and athletic build. He was very muscular/built. Reminding me of someone who used steriods quite honestly. He had dirty blonde hair in a short military style cut, stormy grey eyes, and a great ass encased in good jeans. Never underestimate the power of well fitting jeans. But his t-shirt looked like he purchased it from the toddler section. Because it was so tiny/tight on his upper chest and torso. I thought he was about to burst out of it like the HULK and you know what happens when you make the hulk mad. So I keep my tshirt thoughts to myself.

We stay at the wine tasting til dusk. We then make our way to my favorite jazz bar. We are walking down an alley, it’s a short cut. He takes me by surprise, pushes me up against a brick wall. Which is fitting, because he’s built like a brick house. It was rough and tumble experience. Hands in my hair, hands everywhere, he was an experienced pusher up against the wall-er. It made me rethink the jazz bar. My lady parts were thinking where’s the closest hotel room and when he pulled away he enticed me with this statement,”This is just a taster for later.” There was a instant deluge from my lady parts.

We are sitting at the bar in my favorite jazz bar. My bartender sees me. So we automatically get service. He gives my date a sly /are you serious look. But he is still a professional, and goes to make our drinks. My date is in the restroom.

My bartender makes commentary about my date’s ill fitting shirt. Asked me if he’d like to borrow a men’s size shirt from him. He’s got an extra in the back for emergency spills. But he’s willing to help my date out. It’s a different type of emergency. Fashion emergency! I’d like to add that my bartender is STRAIGHT. You know it’s bad when the straight guy says you look like shit basically.

We are now eating and drinking. My bartender is keeping a discreet distance. But close enough that if I need help he’s there. My date felt his prying eyes so he got a little territorial. He grabbed my bar stool and pulled me in between his legs and put his body between myself and my bartender. He had a few more drinks.

He said the doorman at his hotel suggested the piano bar. I corrected him politely to inform him it’s a dueling piano bar. Because I didn’t think he was aware of the type of bar it was. It’s not a quaint and cozy. It’s rowdy, fun, crowded, and full of drunken people. Not that I mind that. But it wasn’t that type of night.

He’s closing out. My bartender has a I need to talk to you face. Before we leave, I make a point to check for my phone in my purse. Mentioning out loud that I was on call for work. Bartender nods and we head out.

So we are trekking to the “piano bar”. I’m in stilettos and I’m walking on cobblestones while tipsy. I’m a local, I can walk on cobblestones. But tipsy, makes life a little more difficult.

He’s being a little possessive at this point. He doesn’t want me to talk to anyone else other than him.

We are now in the dueling pianos bar. It’s CRAZY crowded, like I said it would be. I pointed two available chairs all the way to the very crowded front. But this table had people already occupying it. We pushed our way thru the crowd. Then asked if the seats were taken? We sat with them. He ordered a round of drinks for the whole table to thank them. I asked for a water. I told him I was pacing myself. I was starting to notice his possessiveness. I wanted to be a little more alert.

There was a bachelorette party up on stage. He flagged down our waitress with shots. He said I was being a party pooper when I refused to take a shot. I made a face. He gave me a face too. Then picks up my water glass, and sloshes it ON ME. Then throws his hands up in the air like he’s about to start the wave, but doesn’t. Instead he yells out to the very crowded bar, “WET T-SHIRT” and laughs.

I was in shock. I needed to process the water that had just been thrown on me. Which caused my shirt to be transparent and my mind hadn’t even gotten to the wet shirt comment. I told him I needed to go to the bathroom. He GRABBED my wrist and JERKED me down towards his face, and said to come RIGHT back.

Inner monologue moment: are you FUCKING kidding me? I’ll go where I damn well please.

I dig my phone out of my purse while I’m in line, check my messages. My bartender texted me. He said, that my date made some inappropriate commentary. He didn’t trust him and that if anything happened to come back to the bar. I turn around in line to see what he’s up to. No need to wonder what he’s doing, because he’s staring right at me.

Awkward…

I smile. Then sweep the room looking for the nearest exit. I’m in the door of the bathroom now. The bacherlette party is in the bathroom they witnessed the wet tshirt moment. They are all giving their opinions. But the consensus is that he’s an ASS and that I need to leave the premises as swiftly as possible.

I told them that’s a problem because he’s constantly watching me. The bride to be steps up, and says okay I got this. Her maid of honor gives me an extra shirt she’s wearing. She gave me her sash and a glowing, blinking penis necklace. She says we are splitting into two groups and I’m to stick to her side.

The bride says to her girls two words, code BLUE. Part of the girls go out and start a HUGE scene.

All I’m hearing is “YOU BITCH I can’t believe you SLEPT with HIM I’m going to KILL YOU.” The bride pokes her head out, she tells me we are clear. We brush past the ensuing science, the girls wink at us. My date has stood up, but the girls are blocking his path. One of the girls fell into him, to help sell the fight and my getaway.

To any men reading this, don’t underestimate the power of women bonding in the bathroom. It’s a sacred place. There’s a reason why we go there in groups.

Freedom! I’m outside. We wait for the other girls, the fight makes its way outside. The fighting girls see the bride and instantly stop arguing and walk over. On the way back to the jazz bar they explain the codes. They were interesting.

They drop me off at the jazz bar. I thank them, we exchange numbers and they’re off to save the next single girl. My bartender makes me a virgin fruity drink to cheer me up. I head to the restroom when the waitress comes in and tells me NOT to come out. My date has just walked into the bar looking for me. I wait ten minutes til it’s safe.

They had to kick him out of the bar.

My bartender informed me that he grabbed him and told him that “I saw you eye fucking at MY girl while we were here she’s tipsy, drunk, and high” and that’s he’s worried about me. My bartender told me to wait to go to my car and that I could hang out and he would take me home.

My phone had 47 missed messages and 26 voicemails.

I forgot that I had his sunglasses in my purse. He wanted them back.  They weren’t even designer!

Tip: BEWARE of craigslist stalker
©southerngabunny