♫ 'Cause he's a creep... he's a weirdo... ♫

I went to McCarthy's (Irish bar) for Norman's resurrection party. Norman is the wooden leprechaun that serves as a mascot for the Irish import store that my friend Liza owns. A couple months ago, someone hit an icy patch on the road, jumped the curb, and hit him, breaking him in half. They just got him fixed and repainted, so they were revealing the new Norman that night. I got a pint and mingled a bit for a while. When I was talking to my friend Teresa, I noticed this 40-something guy at the bar staring at me. STARING. No way was I gonna look at him. I finished my pint and went back for another. My big mistake was not going to the opposite end of the bar to get it. I went right for the open space in the middle, and he pounced as soon as I walked up there. "You are a beautiful woman… I could get lost in those eyes." I thanked him and tried my best to respond to his cheesy conversation without being rude (I really need to learn to nip those situations in the bud before they get to be out of control). He offered to buy my pint, and hey, who doesn't like a free drink, so I let him pay. Creepy Guy (henceforth known as CP) called the bartender (aka Sergeant Major, his name for him) over and got my drink. Once we both had drinks, he said, "Let's do the Statue of Liberty toast." It was something like "here's to those who came before us… blah blah blah, oohrah." That's right, kids… I found yet another ex-Marine. I told him I had dated one, and he asked how it went. I said, "Apparently not well, because we're not together anymore."

He started the gamut of questions: are you married, are you single, why on earth are you not dating anyone… he said guys today must be morons, and he announced that he was attracted by my "fuller figure." NOT a good way to get on my good side. I was already pretty put off, but when people point that out to me, and try to make it seem like they're doing me a favor by being among the perceived few who like fuller-figured women, I totally shut down. Again, this is a skill I clearly need work on. Anyway, he told me that his wife, a Navy nurse, had been killed in Afghanistan. I swear he said it had only been a few weeks, but that he had taken his wedding ring off that night because he felt it was "time to move on." He spoke fondly of her, but really, I didn't buy the story, even after he showed me her picture. He told me I reminded him of her. He told me about where he was from, what he did for a living, etc. He asked if I had ever been married and how many kids I wanted to have. I told him I didn't know if it was in the cards, and that I might never get married, and he asked if I wanted to. I said "probably" and he raised his hand to volunteer. He asked for my number, and I said, "How about you give me yours?" So he did. I fantasized about that scene in Swingers where Trent talks up the redhead at the party they go to, and as he's walking away, he tears the paper with her number on it in half.

He blathered about having tickets to go on some grandiose vacation to Amsterdam, then Poland, then Egypt, then Australia or something, and how he had an extra ticket and would be going in May, and how it would be great if I could go. Right about then, Teresa came over to tell me she was leaving, and that I should come take her chair, since my coat was on the back of it. She hugged me and said, "Do you need help getting away?" I said, "Yeah, that would be good." So she tried to push me more toward the chair, and I finally found some nards and said, "I'm gonna go over there and spend time with my friends." He finally "released" me, and I tried my best to steer clear of him all night, but he poked his nose into our fun a couple of times. And he stared more. And he interjected with, "Please call me… I hope you call me" several times, too. Eventually, the people around that table sauntered off, and I was left vulnerable again, so he came over and asked me if I liked the islands. I said, "Which ones?" He said, "Any of them… walk along the beach with me in your mind…" Then he committed a cardinal sin again: he said, "there are styles of swimwear out there that are very modest, very feminine, and very flattering to a fuller figure." You have no idea how mad I was that I didn't slug the guy or straight talk him. I'm too damn nice. I wouldn't have thrown my drink on him, though – cider is a terrible thing to waste. Again, I made nice conversation, until Liza, God bless her, came over to save me. She asked if I was all right, and for some stupid reason, I said, "yes." She kept asking, and CP said, "She's fine." Liza shot back, "I'm not talking to you! I'm talking to my girl friend." She told me to come over with her to the bar, and he said something else, to which she replied, "I'm out here having fun with my girl friends… she's coming over here." So I did, and I thanked her, and she told me about how creepy she thought he was.

I hung out with her and her buddy Patrick, who was an absolute riot. I spent some time talking to my friends Christy and Phil too, who are also hilarious. Phil told me even he was creeped out by CP, and that's pretty bad for a guy to be creeped out by another guy. I tried to work it so I was never left alone. Christy noticed him staring at me again a while later. They decided around 11 to take off, and since I'd already had a pint more than I had anticipated, I decided to exit stage left with them. I was tired of fending him off, and I told Liza that as I was leaving. She said, in classic Liza form, "If you want to stay, stay! Don't let him ruin your fun! Just knee him in the balls and tell him you're not interested, no ifs, ands, or fuckin' buts!" I laughed and told her I was about ready to head out anyway, regardless. He saw that I was leaving, and he asked if I was parked in a well-lit area. I assured him that I was, and that I had someone to walk to my car with me, and he leaned over to them and said, "Take care of my treasure." I was really done at that point. Christy, Phil and I made our way out and walked up the hill, and we parted ways. That's about all that I haven't blocked out. I wish I could have found a way to work in a fart with a prize.