Wining and Dining

When I was an undergrad, a man I wasn’t very attracted to was pursuing me. I kept declining his requests for a date, but a friend who knew him said he was a decent guy and I should give him a chance. Against my better judgment and wanting to give him a fair chance, I finally agreed.

He invited me to his house one afternoon for the date because he was going to cook for us. The dinner itself was quite nice, actually. He served wine, but I wasn’t partial to drinking, so I only had about half the glass. He on the other hand finished the bottle. Then he finished my glass. Then he opened another bottle of wine and polished that off.

At the end of the date, he called me a cab, and even paid for it. To my surprise, however, he hopped in the cab with me. He instructed the cabbie to take him to the clinic, and then to take me home. I was worried because he said he needed to go to the clinic, until the cabbie informed me that The Clinic was a bar. Yeesh. Three sheets to the wind already and heading for a pub. I learned a valuable lesson though: always trust my instincts.