"....In Which Lennon Is Nearly Driven to Murder...."

So, a ladyfriend of mine was having a rough time the past week or so. I offered to buy her a drink and show her a good time to get her mind off of it. The following fit of psychosis actually happened on a date last night. First, there was the phone conversation:

Her: I'm almost ready, but I don't know if I should do something to my hair or wrap it up.

Me: It doesn't particularly matter to me. I'm sure you'll look gorgeous either way.

Her: I really don't want to have to do anything to it.

Me: Then don't do anything to it.

Her: Okay, I'm on the way.

I want everyone reading this to note that she clearly decided not to do anything to her hair, put a wrap on it and be on her way. Harmless, right?

Now, she's been out with me before, so it's no secret that I'm an outgoing date. The plan was to go to my usual place for some drinks and then head to a little "come as you are" open mic kind of event and then play it by ear from there.

When we met up, she had clearly done something to her hair (though I'm still not sure what). This is the conversation that followed.

Her: So, where're we going?

Me: Drinks first and there's this little thing over at Cafe So N So....

Her: Cafe?....like a club?

Me: Like a cafe.

Her: I didn't know we were actually DOING anything!

Me: What did you think we were doing?

Her: I don't know. I just....

Me: Please tell me you thought we were going to get a hotel room because that's still a possibility.

Her: Well, I'd have done something different with my hair.

Me: I thought you said you were going to wrap it up.

Her: I changed my mind.

Me: Well, it looks fine. I told you you'd look lovely regardless and so you do.

Her: I'm not sure I feel comfortable going somewhere people are actually going to see this.

Me: See what? I don't understand.

Her: You don't know. You're a man.

Me: It's a very low key place. Look at me. I'm in a tee shirt and jeans and I'm telling you I'm overdressed.

Her: I don't know....

Me: Tell you what...let's just go to the bar and get some drinks and see how we feel.

The subtext here was "Hopefully, after a little liquor, you'll calm the fuck down about your hair and let me quarterback the evening as planned." Unfortunately, I was wrong. Very wrong. Record breaking wrong. "I thought Leonardo DiCaprio was going to live to the end of The Departed" kind of wrong.

Her: What is this?
Me: A margarita
Her: What's in it?
Me: **shrugs** Margarita mix. I don't know.
Her: and what else?
Me: Some form of liquor, I'm to assume.
Her: Drink yours.
Me: **eating** Now?
Her: Drink.
Me: **sips** Tastes fine.
Her: Do you taste any alcohol?
Me: Yeah, I guess.
Her: It's not a guess. Just yes or no.
Me: Okay, fine. Yes.
Her: No you don't.
Me: I do. I've had these before. I've walked out drunk. It's fine.
Her: You're just saying that because you think I'm going to make a scene.
Me: Wait. THIS isn't a scene?
Her: No, this is Kool Aid. I wouldn't pay for that.
Me: Gee, it's a good thing you didn't. I did.
Her: I'm just saying. You can admit it's not strong.
Me: You know what? **signals for bartender**
Bartender: What's up, Len?
Me: Punch me in the face.
Her: Huh?
Me: I said "Hit me with a shot." 151, if you please.

It was like this for a significant amount of the night. I got a text from my friends, saying they wanted to link up. I asked her if she wanted to go and she readily agreed. The drinks there were a little stronger and I needed eyewitnesses to this woman's insanity. It continued:

Her: **hears country music** What's up with the music in here?
Female Friend: Oh, it's the jukebox. It plays random stuff sometimes if nobody's using it.
Her: Oh, no! We have to fix that. I'm going to go play some music. What do you guys want to hear?
Me: As long as it's not Rick Ross, I don't care.
Male Friend: Doesn't matter to me. It's your money, darlin.
Female Friend: Whatever you want.
Her: Are you sure? Here....write down what songs you want to hear.
Me: They said it's fine. You can just pick something, dear.
Her: No, I don't wanna just monopolize.....
Me: You know what? Come on. Let's pick something. **tries to insert money, but doesn't work**
Her: What happened?
Me: Wouldn't take money.
Her: Why?
Me: Wasn't working.
Her: Why?
Me: I don't know.
Her: Are you sure you did it right?
Me: "Insert bill face up" Pretty sure I followed the directions.
Her: Is it plugged in?
Me: Yes.
Her: How do you know?
Me: **points to plug** Because it's plugged in.
Her: Do you think the bartender knows how to work it?
Me: I think he knows it's not working.
Her: You're not going to ask him.
Me: Hadn't planned on it.
Her: Huh?
Me: Means "no"

From now on, I'm going to start evaluating all my dates like they did the androids in Blade Runner.