Bill-do the Weirdo.

So in my last post I talked about the "promising prospect" I was going on a first date with on Friday and I don't know if my guy-dar is off or wintertime in Chicago brings the freaks out of their igloos, but this was one for the books, let me tell you. After experiences like Friday night, most people would want to hang up their dating hats, buy a cat named Sprinkles, take up knitting and call it a day. I, on the other hand, not only love these awkward.com dates, but they provide me with enough fabulous, butt-clenching material for weeks to come. So blogosphere, let me introduce you to the nightmare known as "Bill-do the Weirdo."

I met Bill-do last Sunday at Stanley's when my roomies and I were having a Sunday Funday. My room mates were at the bar grabbing drinks and I was hanging back, awkwardly people watching because I didn't really feel like chatting up the bartender, when said "first date nightmare" entered my life.

He seemed nice enough and confidently strode up to me and struck up a conversation, so I thought to myself, I'm willing to give this guy 5 minutes of my time. It ended up that we had a bunch of stuff in common, both Irish Catholic, both have two siblings, both went abroad to Spain, you get the picture, and I actually started to tune in and give this guy a legitimate chance. We ended up chatting for a while and as I was about to call it a night, I found myself hoping he would ask for my number. As we headed towards the door, he blundered through his amateur attempt to score my digits. To prevent myself from further suffering from his symphony of stutters, I quickly spouted off my number and hopped in a cab, success, or so I thought.

Knowing that hindsight is 20/20, there were definitely signs that this guy was going to be a head case, but since I am trying to "get back out there" and give dating a real chance, I thought that I would just roll with it and hope for the best. (life lesson #1,093,657: Never just "roll with it," This guy was a grade A freakshow and I should have listened to my gut)

Since I would like to prevent others from suffering through such disasterdom, I thought I could bullet out some precursors that hinted towards the verbal diarrhea Bill-tack he eventually sprung on me...

Bill-do the Weirdo Warning Signs:

• After I gave him my number, he texted me not :37 seconds later, "You're awesome -- billy." You're awesome? Did I meet Ted from Hey Dude by a mistake? Get real brotha' man.
• The next day he texted me, "Doing some reading before class, but all I can do is think about you." Reet, reet, reet, PSYCHO! Like are you for reals? You met me a hot 8 hours ago and all you can do is think of me? You need to get a hobby, or a friend, or both.
• Apparently said advice was not taken, he neither got a friend nor hobby, because he had plenty of time to begin badgering me with emails. Apparently, texting wasn't enough but we had to bring our relationship into Outlook. AND these emails were not just any kind of email mind you, they were emails riddled with :) AND this ;) and more exclamations than my eyes ever wanted to see. The subject of his very first email was ":)." I mean, come on, I couldn't make this shit up. I couldn't believe it, I felt like god was playing a cruel trick on me because we all know how I feel about textual smiley faces and that feeling is not good.

Upon reflection, I should have totally bailed. But even with all of these warning signs I forged ahead and planned to show up on Friday night. He picked a good restaurant, Hub 51, so I was excited for that. I realized now that no amount of food was worth the boredom of Bill-do.

First off, he ordered Bud in a can and me a Miller Light bottle. I'm not a snob, but we are at a nice restaurant in a city, we aren't going muddin' down on Blue Hole Road, order a beer, that comes in a glass, like a grown ass man.

He then proceeded to talk about himself for the entirety of the dinner, where he grew up, what his first job was, the names of his brothers and sisters, where he went to college, why he went to college there, I don't even think the guy knows my last name. I was literally counting the minutes till the date ended. When I thought I couldn't take the montage of stories anymore, I excused myself for the bathroom and sent S and M an emergency text that I needed some rescuing.

Once I returned to the table, we started trying to figure out what we were going to do for the rest of the night. I tried to ditch him like a bad habit, but he was impossible to shake. At that point, I knew I needed an intervention. So I told him that my roomies were at Zed 451 and we could go and meet them there. I knew that once I put him within S and M's talons, I would be able to ditch this dud and have a good night with my friends.

I didn't realize how easy this feat was going to be accomplished. We were at Zed for a mere 15 minutes when he pulls me aside and tells me that he "has to talk to me." I thought to myself, oh this should be good, what's wrong with him now? Does he want to tell me another enrapturing story about his upbringing?

He went on to tell me for a solid 5 minutes, how I wasn't paying enough attention to him, that he came here to spend time with me, I was only talking to my room mates, that was unfair and inconsiderate, blah, blah, blah. Newsflash BUDDY -- I don' t like you! I'm not talking to you because you are like talking to robot on crack who just keeps talking and talking and doesn't stop. Sorry but I think my ears are actually bleeding at this point, please leave me alone.

I didn't say any of this, because I didn't have the chance. After he got done lecturing me, he stormed out. I couldn't believe my eyes, it was perfect! I had unloaded this Bill-do thing and I didn't have to do anything!

I went back to our table and entertained my girlfriends with what just happened and after a few minutes of solid laughter, we decided to change scenes and headed over to English for a fabulous rest of the night.

I woke the next day with not one, not two, but three texts from Bill-do explaining how he is so sorry that he "unraveled" last night, that he is so "pissed at himself" and could we "talk?" Talk? Talk! Are you f-ing kidding me?! No I don't want to talk, you are Bill-do the weirdo to me now, there's nothing to talk about.

I didn't respond to his texts because there really wasn't anything I had to say to him. That was a mistake because then he upped the antee and started calling and leaving voicemails. I finally texted him back saying no worries about last night, just think we are on different pages, have a good rest of the weekend sort of thing. Instead of being like, wow, she was cool about me being a creepo, he sends back a spazztastic text of "Oh fine then. Let me know if I can ever be on your page. All the best." UGH. gross.

Well Bill-do the weirdo, thanks for the lovely sea bass covered in a delicious horseradish broth, it was scrumptious, really. Needless to say, you won't be hearing from me again.

No one's getting out alive,

heels