The Farting Man

So, I went out on a date last night.

You know that any story is going to end badly when I write those dreaded eight words; "I went out on a date last night."

I decided that we should go to the Little Bear, a fantastic bar here in Evergreen. It is small and divey and always has a band playing, the food is good bar food and it reminds me a bit of the bar in Northern Exposure.

All that Little Bear loveliness aside, Little Bear is my turf (so to speak) and I feel comfortable there.

Ok, a little bit about this date (the person, not event). He's a financial investor man of some sort that does things with money and numbers and reports it to someone. He loves to talk on the phone, he's originally from Montana, has two cats (red flag) is in his 40's and never been married (red flag). He is a VERY NICE guy.

Its his voice. Christmas (sigh). You know the game show, "The Price is Right?" His voice and inflection are eerily similar to the guy who calls down the contestants and eventually tells them (if they're lucky) what they've won! "MMMAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYY JOOOOOOOOOO BUUUTTTTAAAFFFOOOOCOOOOO! C'mon down!" It got to the point that whenever we spoke on the phone I was disappointed that I didn't win a new car.

For once (ask my seester, how I'm not known for being punctual) in my life I was on time. At the Little Bear by 630. He, was not. He was 20 minutes late! Just as I was starting to come to the harsh reality that I've been stood up he calls me to tell me that he is parking his car and will be there in two minutes.

Ok, so he walks in and immediately after the "hellos" he says, "I'm so glad that you're thin!"

Huh?

Well, as it turns out his last date was overweight, he referred to her as "Jabba the Hut." I tried to casually remind him that I wasn't one of his dudes that he was hanging out with and talking smack about some woman that we were actually on a date and, well, not so much on the good first impression. After 15 minutes of listening to him talk about this poor woman I decided that a rescue phone call would be necessary and made my way to the bathroom to call Emily.


Phone call made, rescue efforts to begin in t-minus 20 minutes.

Back at the bar and we're (I am) chatting it up and suddenly, from out of nowhere he farts! Totally unintentional because he didn't do the "one cheek lift" to let 'er rip. IT WAS SO LOUD! He said "excuse me" and then asked me a question about whatever it is I was talking about. I had to think of dying animals so I wouldn't laugh and eventually pee in my pants.

The group sitting next to us at the bar MOVED TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BAR and sent me over a shot of whiskey (Jackson, the world's dreamiest bartender filled them in on this being my first date with this guy). Thankful for the shot I, well, drank it, duh and then..."Oh! Is that my phone?"

Emily _ "Hi, this is Emily, you're emergency phone call."
Me_ "Mom?! Is everything ok? Well, of course I can come home. I know, I'll fix it don't worry. Just let me finish up here and I'll be back in a little bit."
Emily_ "Ok, well, text me when you get home."
Me_ "Ok, see you in a bit."

We finished up our drinks and he walked me to my car. Thankfully, I didn't feel a Heisman moment coming on but he did give me a hug that made me wonder if he was trying to squeeze the life out of me. He hugged me so hard that I had to do the "pats on the back" thing to let him know that hugging time had concluded. I wonder if it was similar to "tapping out" in cage fighting? I'll have to ask Cage Fighter. Remind me.

This morning I woke up to a text from the Farting Man. He had a good time and was wondering if I wanted to see a movie later in the week.

Not really, Farting Man.

xo