To Me, Scott, and Making Both of Our Dreams Come True

Sometimes I forget how sheltered my life has been.

I grabbed coffee with a friend who I haven’t seen in a bit, and she told me about this guy who is perfect for me. Nerdy (comicon, tabletop gaming, etc…), Godly (post-its with Bible verses all over his apartment), fit (military)… evidently me, but a dude. So, I’m thinking, sure, I’ll meet him and see how things go.

I agree to go to this steak house he and his friends frequent for the happy hour. They like the scotch and the cigars.

I get there and meet the guy. He’s sort of normal. Quiet. Polite. Has something akin to a fanny pack with all his nerd crap inside of it. He ordered for us before we got there so we could get happy hour pricing. Evidently I got an 18 yr scotch – smooth and spectacular. My friend bought herself a couple of cigars, and we settled in for some relaxation.

Then, one of the guys asks me to take some money to another guy at another table. The guy I’m taking the cash to is sitting with a MUCH younger girl who is all dolled up in a college girl (from $) sort of way. I put the bills in front of the guy. His name is Scott.

Scott talks with the young lady for a few more minutes and then she leaves, so he joins our table where my hot date is REALLY quiet and hardly talking to me at all. Scott notices the cigar my friend chose for herself and thinks she needs something better, so he pulls out his fancy-schmancy cigar box and bosses her around a bit about how to wet it, cut it, light it and smoke it – let the cigar tell you (something about not flicking the ashes off the end too early)… And she starts smoking it. And Scott proceeds to get sloshed. SLOSHED.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone get this drunk. I’m talking like maybe 10 really expensive glasses of scotch, plus half a bottle of wine. I think the reason I’ve never seen anyone that drunk is because any other person would have tossed his cookies.

So, on scotch # 7 ish, Scott takes notice of me. He comes and stands a little bit close to me and asks me what I do. I tell him I’m a teacher, but he wants to know where I’m going to go from there… admin? career change? etc… I tell him I write.

What do you write?

I tell him.

Do you know what a VC is?

No, I sure don’t (he may as well sit in my lap, he’s so close).

Well, Scott is a VC – basically, he has a crap ton of money and wants to invest in me and my book.

He gives me his card, which I thank him for and set on the table.

My friend diverts Scott a bit by asking him about his wedding ring. He’s been married for 18 years and his wife is going to show up soon.

Wife shows up. He greets her.

She’s REALLY pretty. She’s blond and thin and elegant. She’s got perfect hair even though she just got off an airplane. She’s really funny – just got back from Salt Lake city where she saw a Macy’s display with full missionary attire on sale for $799. She’s tactful and DAR/Debutant esque!

Scott gives her a glass of wine, bosses her around a bit, and then returns to me, where he decides to put $100 in my hands. He puts an additional $100 in my friend’s hands and tells us we should play rock, paper, scissors for his money. I try to give his money back to him – I figure his lady might not be so happy about us taking her money. He won’t take it. And he’s standing really close again. My friend takes some verbal low blows at him about his greying hair, but then she decides that we should play for the $. I, again try not to, but finally give up and play. I lose. She gets the $200.

Now, when I’m thinking about WHY he did this, I can only come to the conclusion that he’s trying to show us just exactly how loaded he is. Also, where the hell is my hot date? Okay… so we were just going to meet and it isn’t exactly a date yet, but shouldn’t he step in. Scott is his friend and I’m just waiting for him to get a bit handsy… he’s a half a scotch away from making a move that’s going to cause me to pull out those self-defense moves I learned from the Sheriff’s Department when Maria made me take a class… unfortunately, I’m not in a good position for hammer fist and the only other maneuver I remember is seizing testicles.

*Sidenote: Yes, if you google “seizing testicles blog” my post makes the first page. How about that for Search Engine Optimization?

Scott now notices that his card is still sitting on the table in front of me and he picks it up. Rather than handing it to me, he tries to slide it down my shirt.

I kid you not.

I make a pretty smooth block and put his card in my wallet so that he knows I’m going to keep it… it seems pretty important to him.

He then proceeds to tell my friend she has big tits. She takes offense and says some things about his age and his pretty wife. He proceeds to tell her that he doesn’t actually like big tits – it’s not his thing. My friend points out that Scott’s wife has big tits. He says that he knows and he doesn’t like them.

I’m clearly the smallest chest at the table and feel pretty awkward seeing as he just made a go at sticking his hand down my shirt and he’s still standing pretty much on top of me.

Also, when he tried to slide his card down my shirt, his wife decided to strike up a conversation with me, shouting over the other conversation about her tits.

She asks what I do. I tell her I’m a teacher and let her know which high school I work at… evidently I’ve taught a kid she knows… she’s REALLY nice. Her mom was a teacher for 30 years.

All the while, Scott is putting hands on my shoulders, inviting me to go to Vegas with him (he doesn’t want my friend to come and wants to know if I’ll go without her), etc…

And I felt incredibly sad, thinking about how nice his wife is, and how he’s definitely cheating on her. Also, she knows and tries to pretend it isn’t happening.

And then I think about the girl Scott was sitting with when I arrived – the college dolled-up one, and I’m pretty saddened that all of the effort he’s put into showing me the $, telling me how he wants to turn me into a published author, ensuring that I have his contact info and know he prefers my type of chest to his wife’s… and I’m pretty sure that sort of thing works for him. ALL THE TIME. I’m pretty sure he expects me to give him a call… maybe not tomorrow, but in a few weeks or even a few months… so that he can make all my dreams come true and I can satisfy his urge for small tits. And the only reason he’s doing this is because he’s done it successfully before.


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