A few nights later I was out at a local bar and met Eric. He seemed really cute and really nice and asked me for my number before I left. And when he called I actually answered instead of letting it go to voicemail. We went out to dinner a few nights later and were having a fairly fluid conversation until he sat back, tapped his fingers on the table and declared, “Ok let’s lay it out upfront, what’s the story with your ex-boyfriend?”
“What?” I was in the middle of eating one of my ribs (totally not date food but sometimes I just do not give a shit) and almost spit it out in shock. Who asks about the exes on the first date? Who wants to know EVER, but really on the first date? “What do you mean, what’s the story?” I said slowly. He laughed.
“C’mon, eveeeery girl I know has some sob story about an ex-boyfriend, so let’s trade war stories.” He leaned forward and grinned at me and I was suddenly completely ill at ease with him.
“I’m not ‘eveeeeery girl’” I responded sharply, “and I have no sob story to share, sorry. No drama here.”
“Wow! That’s a first!” He laughed loudly and I looked around, feeling that he was being a little too loud. “Well I’ll share my story then,” he offered. I smiled politely to feign interest, but the checks in the negative column for this guy were rapidly multiplying. “So I lived with this girl,” he began, “but after two years together she cheated on me so that didn’t work out. That was my most recent girlfriend. I was ready to propose to her too,” he added thoughtfully, taking a sip of his beer. “Anyway I lived with this other girl before her and she cheated on me too, so I think I might be getting a complex!!” He slapped his leg and laughed hysterically. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and took a big drink of my Pinot Noir. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction from me, so frantically I tried to think of some other comment, other than “sorry for your bad luck, can I go home now?” I racked my brain.
“So you’ve lived with girlfriends!” I said brightly. “Two of them!”
“Actually three,” he corrected me, “But obviously that one didn’t work out either as you can see!” He cackled again.
“Three?!” I burst out before I could stop myself. “So they all moved in and out of your house?”
“Oh no,” he assured me, “I moved in with them all three times. Do you think you want dessert?”
“What? No, no dessert. So you moved in and out all three times? Where do you live now?” I couldn’t stop my line of questioning. The negative column for this guy had spilled over into morbidly fascinating.
“Oh I live with my parents right now, I’ve been there for about four weeks, since I broke it off with Kelly, that’s the girl I almost proposed to,” he reminded me. “You live alone right? How big is your apartment?” I stared at him and realized he was not only interviewing for his next girlfriend, but also his next residence.
“Check please!!!!!” I called out.