The Casa Nova
MVWD was a blind date. “Ike” picked me up after work in Manhattan. He took me to a really nice and expensive restaurant, where the waiters seemed to know him. I ordered one glass of wine and barely made a dent in it. Silly me, I thought it was safe to use the bathroom while on a date. I later realized Ike probably slipped something in my drink, because I began to feel strange, unwell, but couldn’t quite explain the feeling to this day.
Ike talked me into going to a bar “near his apartment” on the UES and continued to try to sweet talk me into more alcohol. Well those in my life know what a strong personality I am, and I guess it finally saved me to be so bold and blunt. I guess Ike was losing patience with me and finally blurted out, “I don’t see this going anywhere but let’s go f*ck anyway. What do you say?” I told him that he was out of his mind and that I don’t waste my sexual efforts on micro objects.
The best part about that night for me was going to the bartender to get money out of my debit card, because the cab promised by this prince was obviously not going to be provided. I watched Ike, who clearly thought I had left, throw his short-tempered, stubby little pathetic drug pushing body around (like the sex-starved brat he was), yank his scarf off the coat rack, and smack it on the floor in anger. Priceless!
