It’s really better to write about these events as soon after they occur as possible. As time passes, the details fade and my interest in sharing the stories diminishes. Let’s see how this turns out.
As a refresher (or familiarizer) on this character, read Mr. Giggles Part I and Mr. Giggles Part II.
Mr. Giggles is a specimen whom I met for the first time on a Wednesday (5/9) for a few drinks about five minutes from where I work. As soon as I set eyes on him, my gaydar sounded off. Nevertheless, he was pleasant and local. The following day (Thursday), I met up with him again. We texted a bit on Friday. He asked me to join him for dinner, but I couldn’t because I had already agreed to attend a friend’s birthday party. (On the way to that birthday, I called and invited Mr. Friend Zone Escapee, who was still contained in the friend cell, because the birthday girl is a mutual friend. The story of that night shall be told in due time.)
Saturday morning, Mr. Giggles and I spoke on the phone. He informed me that he had gotten really wasted on Friday night because he and a friend went to a sushi place where the homosexual bartender fancies him. Now, all of his efforts to convince me of his heterosexuality seemed even less credible than before. But wait, there’s more! He told me that the homosexual bartender was slapping his ass. I asked how he reacted. He said he took the ass-slapping and male-on-male flirtation as a joke. At the end of the night, the bartender drove Mr. Giggles home. At least that’s how the story I was told ended.
On Monday, he texted me, “Good thing your not seeing me today…went with the fuchsia…” There are two problems with that text. First and foremost, he used “your” instead of “you’re.” Cringe. Second, fuchsia or any shade of pink on men is generally not cool. On Tuesday, we reunited. He met me in my work parking lot (because he works five minutes away). Again, he was super snazzily dressed. He was wearing dress pants, a button down blue shirt, a vest matching the pants, and a paisley tie matching the shirt. The excellence of his attire was too fly for a straight guy. I was impressed.
Before dining at Teresa’s (Princeton, NJ), we grabbed a drink at Winberies. I had been to Teresa’s once before with a girlfriend of mine. The food is excellent. There really aren’t many details to share about dinner that night other than to say it was a lot of fun. He dropped me off at my car at the conclusion of dinner and we talked during our respective drives home.
The following day, he wanted more MoMo. He invited me to his home again and offered to cook dinner. In his online dating profile, he boasted about his cooking skills. His home is located in a desolate, tree-surrounded, treacherous driveway-having area. Again, he met me in my work parking lot. I followed him to his abode, but first, we stopped at the grocery store. I was rude and on my phone the whole time discussing something with one of my then-future shore housemates. Mr. Giggles did not take issue with my excessive device usage, which I appreciated. As this was our fourth date, he was well aware of my addiction. On the menu for the night was penne vodka. He gathered the items he needed and then we got back into our respective cars and headed to his home.
We drove up to his house from the opposite direction I had taken last time. I saw the cliff I was warned of. A few moments after entering his house, ever hospitable Mr. Giggles poured me a glass of wine. He then proceeded to chef-up dinner. It took what seemed like an eternity. In the meantime, I selected a movie: Office Space. Cooking continued as I sat on the counter sipping on my wine. Finally, dinner was ready. There was a problem, tough; it looked nothing like penne vodka. Instead, it looked like penne soup. At that point, I was hungry and he had put a lot of effort into it. He said I didn’t have to eat it and that we could go out to eat. I insisted that it was fine and we sat and watched the movie. After a couple of bites, I retired the plate. He did the same with his.
He was very close to me on the couch. Probably attributable to the wine and the fact that I questioned his sexuality, I accepted the close proximity. Eventually, the movie ended and it was time for me to go. He offered me the opportunity to spend the night, but I declined. He walked me out to the MoMo-mobile and hopped in to escort me down windy driveway. Halfway down the driveway (at which point it was pretty clear how to reach the road), he exited the car and jogged back up to his house.
We knew we would not see one another again for at least two to three weeks because he was traveling for work for a week and upon his return, I was scheduled for vacation. Critical rule in dating (and physics): An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. (Shout out to Sir Isaac Newton.) Despite the momentum we had developed over the course of two weeks, an unbalanced force (independent traveling) was about to act upon us.
We exchanged some friendly texts the next day. But, on Friday, he texted, “I dont like being mocked by you for the entertainment of your readers. and I certainly dont like being represented by that image.” I responded, “It is anonymous and I did not write anything untrue or that I didn’t say to you.” He replied, “Had a great time habging [sic] out with you these past few days but dont think we’re a good match. good luck to you.” That was on May 18. On June 15, he texted out of the blue, “Finally finishing that bottle of pinot noir we started….” I did not respond to his June 15 text.
His annoyance with my blogging was unwarranted. He knew of my blog and its substance in advance of meeting me and I told him I was going to write about our dates. Moreover, nothing I wrote about him varied from things I had said directly to him.
THE END
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