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Forecast: Cloudy with a chance of never gonna happen, buddy.

Sup, Nerds. 

I love casinos. The lights, the constant bustle, the interesting people, and of course, the amazing amounts of money that I tend to win...sometimes.  Therefore, going to a casino on a first date sounded like the best idea ever when it was proposed to me by a local weatherman.

Friday night, I showed up to weatherman’s place for a fancy home cooked dinner before we headed downtown. Dinner was good…except he kept talking in this French accent whenever he’d fill up my wine/food, which was uncomfortable because I had to laugh or else we would have just both felt stupid. But, whatever. I went with it.

Before we left, he did the whole “let me give you the tour of my place” thing, which, I have fallen for numerous times before. So stupid me. Then, he did the whole, “my bed is the most comfortable thing ever, try it out” thing, and so I sat down. Then he did the whole “oh, you gotta check out the HD TV, lay back and take a look” thing, and then laid down next to me and did the whole “I’m gonna try and get all up on you because you’re in my bed” thing. I know I know, if you lay in a guy’s bed, expect to get jumped. So I couldn’t really act appalled because I just went and set myself up for that one. So I just watched the hockey game over his shoulder (it did look pretty good in HD) as he tried to kiss my neck and grab my boobs (despite my consistent efforts to move his hands and push him off). I guess I just have a really hard time being insistent about saying no because I’m afraid of making a big deal out of nothing…something that I will for sure be working on in the coming dates because I truly was uncomfortable and should have done something. I think I need mace.

Anyways, once we actually got down to the casino, I felt back in my element. It always is a relief when you go out with a kind of creepy or molest-y guy to get to a place where you have numerous witnesses around. So we go to the ATMs to get out money and he asks me if I can get $800 for him and he’d cut me a check later. I said no fucking way.

We got our money, me with my 100 and him with his 800 some. Needless to say, I was gambling with far less than him. So we’re playing blackjack and for you non casino goers, there’s a place called Perfect Pairs where you can put down money and win if you get a pair. I don’t play it, but he was and he turned to me and asked why I wasn’t playing it. He then gave me a $5 chip and told me that I could throw it on my perfect pairs. Sure enough, I get a pair and win $75. I was all happy and excited and everyone at the table was happy for me and everything’s all hunky dory. Then, this weatherman turns to me and asks can I have my money? Confused, I ask him what? He says, can I have my money? So, not really knowing what he’s talking about, I hand him back his $5 chip. He then proceeds to reach over me to the $75 I just won and takes it and puts it with his chips….are you freaking serious?! Yeah. That happened. I didn’t even know what to say to that.

So the rest of the night (I lost the rest of my money) I played with his chips, but he made it very clear, several times, that I’m playing with his money. He was just so full of himself by this point, being a total dick and treating me like I was his own personal piece of meaty arm candy. I wouldn’t mind being arm candy to somebody who wasn’t being a dick and treating me nicely, but he got super grabby again. He’s talking to people at the table, saying that “the little lady better watch it with his money” and that “I’m better to just sit there and look pretty.” I was fuming by this point. And if $75 dollar or you know $200 in chips might have accidently fallen into my pockets, I mean…it happens.

So I went to the bathroom, cashed out, and was ready to go when I saw this really good looking guy in a super sharp suit walking past me. He looked familiar so I started walking after him and the weatherman saw me walking towards the exit and followed me. So I keep following this guy trying to figure out where I knew him from when all of a sudden it hit me. I was following Johan Franzen from the Red Wings (local NHL team). So, I totally freaked him out by catching up with him and being a total nerd, telling him he’s my favorite Red Wing and all that embarrassing stuff. I’m just falling all over myself for this guy, and I ask the weatherman to take a picture of us, which he isn’t exactly happy about (he told me later that he’s used to being the biggest celebrity around. The whole night, nobody even recognized or came up to him. And he’s not even the main weatherman on his station. HA!). So we go out to valet and sure enough, Franzen is out there as well, and joined by another Red Wing, Niklas Kronwall. I go back into nerd mode and go talk to them and they’re just cracking up at me. So I have weatherman take another picture. Hahaha, it was great. I could just see his ego deflate. So I made out with some money and meeting two of my favorite sports idols. I guess I can deal.

The whole way home the weatherman was trying to feel up my leg and by this time I was so over it I was literally slapping his hand and telling him not to touch me. When we said goodbye, he got me into this bear hug and was grabbing my ass, and I was struggling with him, pushing away and he wouldn’t let me go and it was just so awkward and uncomfortable. So I won’t be seeing him ever ever ever again.

Lesson to learn from this. Guys: women don’t like to be grabbed at. We don’t like feeling like you’re trying to molest us. Keep your hands to yourself on the first and second date. If we lean away, push you away, keep our arms crossed, move your hand away from us…that means we don’t want to be touched. So don’t freaking touch us. We will let you know when it’s okay to touch us. But still, don’t grab at us. We HATE being grabbed at. HATE IT. And also, don’t be degrading and insulting towards us. I really can’t believe that I have to write this. Be a gentleman. Don’t let your hormones get the best of you. We don’t want to date 14 year old boys, we want to date nice, respectful men.

So, man up. We want to like you. Let us.

Hugs,

Slugs

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