Between everything that happened with the Bouncer and some other stuff that happened that weekend which I haven’t written about yet, I was emotionally drained by the time Monday rolled around. So when some friends suggested getting drinks after work, I was like, “Yes please!”

We went to a bar pretty close to the office. We got there at 6:30 and ended up staying until 11. By that point it was me and six other people. We were all fairly drunk, and we probably should have called it a night. Instead, we started talking about where we should go next. Someone suggested going to a certain bar, and when I asked where it was I found out that it was practically next door to my former favorite bar in NYC, where the Bouncer works. “Yes,” I said, “let’s go there.”

I don’t know what I was expecting would happen. But all of the sudden I felt the need to confront the Bouncer, immediately, while things were still fresh.

Since there were so many of us, we had to take two cabs to get there. By the time my cab got there, the group in the first cab had already checked out our destination and decided that it sucked. We were all standing in front of my former favorite bar, deciding what to do. I looked to my left and saw the Bouncer standing in the doorway talking to someone. He saw me a second later.

I broke away from my group and went straight up to him. Right away he said “Excuse me” to the guy he was talking to. Then he turned to me and said, “I’m so sorry about that.”

Me: I wasn’t planning on coming here tonight.  But all of my friends were like, “Let’s go to XXX,” and I didn’t really have a reason to tell them no. I mean, it’s not like I could say, “Oh sorry, I can’t go there, I fucked the bouncer there and last night his crazy fucking wife called me to tell me he’s married.”

Him: First of all, we’re not married. I don’t know why she said that, because we are not married. I went to the bathroom and I came out and she was going through my phone.

Me: That’s not really the point, is it? And she sure seemed like your wife, with you in the fucking background going, “Gina, I told you nothing happened.” (When I imitated his voice I made him sound like a whiny little bitch, which is how he had sounded.)

Him: I know, you’re right. Look, I’m really, really sorry. I know nobody wants to deal with that.

I don’t remember what I said. I just remembering rolling my eyes and turning away from him to go back to my group.

When I stepped back outside (which was maybe 5 feet from where I had been talking with the Bouncer), everyone was looking at me like “What. The. Fuck.” This one girl, who I had just met that night, said, “Are they not letting people in?” I said, “Yeah they are. We can go in.”

My friends were staring at me with these bewildered looks on their faces, so I said, “Oh, I know him,” as a way to explain why I had been talking to the Bouncer. One friend said, “Yeah, but you were yelling. Is everything okay?” I said, “I was yelling? No way… Yeah, everything is fine.” Another friend said, “So is it okay if we go in here, or do you want to go somewhere else?” I said, “No, this is fine.” I plastered a big smile on my face so they would know I was okay.

As we were walking in one of my friends asked me, “So what was that about?” I said, “Nothing, it’s no big deal.” Another friend chimed in: “Yeah, that was weird. I heard you say ‘and I heard her in the background…’”. I said, “It’s complicated, but it’s fine. It’s done.”

That was pretty much it. At one point I went out to have a cigarette, and when I passed the Bouncer he was looking at me and I just laughed and said “Awk-ward…”, and he laughed in response. And when I hopped in a cab at the end of the night, he smiled this weird smile like “I don’t know if I should be smiling at you or what” and gave me a little wave goodbye. I gave him a head nod in return.

And THAT is truly the end of the Bouncer, at least as far as he relates to my love life. I had been looking for closure with him, and I certainly got it.

To be concluded…

At around 7:30 my phone rang, and I was surprised and pleased to see the Bouncer’s name come up on my caller id. But when I answered the phone, it was a woman.

“Hello, is this Roni?” she asked.

“It’s Rory,” I said. “Who is this?”

“This is Gina, the Bouncer’s wife,” she said.

“His wife?” I asked. I thought I’d misheard.

“Yeah, his wife.”

“His wife?” I asked again. It just wasn’t sinking in.

“Yeah. You didn’t know he was married?”

“No! I didn’t know. His wife?? Really?? No, I didn’t know.” You could hear the shock and disbelief in my voice.

“Well, I’m calling you to let you know he’s married and to tell you to stay the fuck away from my husband.”

She started to say something else that I think was going to turn into a threat, but I interrupted her. “Honey, you can stop. I have NO interest in a married man.” I guess she could hear in my voice that I was telling the truth, because she said, “Okay, I believe you.”

Then the tone of her voice changed: “I believe you didn’t know he was married. Please, please, woman to woman, just tell me, what happened between you two?” I said, “Nothing happened.”

Then I heard the Bouncer in the background, “Gina, I told you nothing happened.” She asked me again, and again I said that nothing had happened. She said (for the Bouncer’s benefit), “Okay, thanks for telling me that something happened.” I listened to them argue for a second, and then the phone went dead.

I swear, up until the moment that I heard the Bouncer’s voice in the background, I was waiting for her to say “Sike! Just kidding.”

That happened at around 7:30 at night, while I was in NJ with my mom. I had to spend the next hour or two listening to my mom talk about American Idol and God knows what else during our car ride home, all the while trying to seem like nothing had happened. Meanwhile I felt absolutely sick to my stomach.

When I got home I headed straight to my computer to Google Gina (I googled “Gina” and the Bouncer’s full name, which, if you recall, I knew because once upon a time he was a pseudo-celebrity). I was immediately taken to her Facebook page. It was mostly private, but I was able to see a few pictures – including pictures she posted of the Bouncer with the caption “my man is the sexiest man alive” – and some of the events on her timelime – including that she had gotten “engaged” in March 2012.

One of my friends said that if she were me, she would have told Gina exactly what happened between me and the Bouncer. Fuck that. Clearly this woman is emotionally unstable. I don’t need her latching onto me as the woman who “ruined” her marriage. And I will be honest – her voice was kinda…Sopranos/Mobs Wives-ish. I’m not trying to get involved in that.

(Based off her Facebook pictures, that was a good move. She’s older but does fitness modeling. I’m pretty sure she could kick my ass.)

After I stalked her on Facebook I composed a long text to my girlfriends, telling them what had happened. I ended it with this:

So…yeah. That’s the end of the Bouncer. I’m still glad I went to (my favorite bar) yesterday. At least I got my closure and I won’t keep wondering about him this summer. And I’m glad everything came to light right away, before anything else happened. Smh…

But I was wrong. That wasn’t the end of the Bouncer.

To be continued.

This was not a spur of the moment decision. Even though I was really hurt and confused after the Bouncer disappeared back in December, I had gotten to the point where I no longer thought about him.  But then a few things happened that reminded me of him, and for the past month he’d been back in my thoughts. Not in an “I miss him” way, but in a “What the fuck??” way.

It was annoying. I knew that the only way I was going to be able to completely move on from the Bouncer was to confront him. I had been tempted to do it a few weeks earlier, but that night I had managed to convince myself to go straight home.

Not this time. I figured that by the time I got there he would just be finishing work. So I drove there, parked across the street, and waited. It ended up being over a half hour before he came out. When I saw him emerge with a large group of his coworkers I felt my adrenaline start pumping. It was crazy. He split from the group and started walking alone to his car.

“Am I really going to do this?” I asked myself. “Yes, now go.” I got out of the car, crossed the avenue, and followed him for a half a block before calling out “Bouncer.” I was like a ninja, stealthy and quiet. (He told me later that I actually scared him when I called out his name.) He turned around, and when he saw me the shock on his face quickly turned to an uncomfortable smile.

“Hey girl, how are you?” he asked me.

Bizarrely, I hadn’t planned out what I would say when I finally saw him.

“I, uh, I’m fine, thanks. I just wanted to know, like, um, so why didn’t you ever call me?”

I don’t remember exactly what he said in response. I think he apologized, then said that he’s a bit of an asshole, plus he felt like a dick using the pay phones all the time, plus with all his drama he didn’t want to get attached to anyone. It didn’t seem like he was trying to makes excuses; he was just saying it how it was. Then he said, “I finally got a phone like two weeks ago. I had thought about texting you, but I figured you’d probably just curse me out. Here, give me your number again.” I was like, “Yeah, I don’t know.” He said, “Come on give it to me…it’s 347-123-4567, right?” He was one or two numbers off, so I corrected him.

He said, “So what took you so long to come back to the bar? Why didn’t you come inside tonight?” I said, “Are you kidding me? I was NEVER going to go back there.” He said, “But I thought you said it was your favorite bar?” I said, “It was, and you totally ruined it for me. I didn’t want to see you. But I don’t know, tonight I felt compelled to come see you.” He asked me why, and I said, “I guess I needed some closure.”

Then I laughed and said, “Yeah, I needed some closure…so I came and stalked you!” I described the night’s events, from deciding that tonight was the night I was going to confront him, to circling the block where he worked to find a parking spot with a good view of the bar, to seeing him come outside and hoping that he would split from his coworkers so I could confront him. He said, “That’s kind of awesome, to be honest.”

Meanwhile I was standing there in a light jacket, and it was FREEZING. As the adrenaline left my body I realized how cold I was, and my entire body started violently shaking from shivering. It was kind of ridiculous, actually. He said, “Let me drive you back to your car.” At that point we were about two blocks from where I had parked. I hesitated (but not really), and then we went to his car. We sat in his car and talked for about 20 minutes, and then he drove to my car, double parked, and we talked for almost another hour, about pretty “deep” stuff. We made out a tiny bit towards the end.

When I woke up the next morning (which was only two hours after I got home), I couldn’t believe that I had actually gone back to the bar and confronted him. That is SOOO not me! Even if I’m completely obsessed with a guy, I will never give him the satisfaction of knowing it. But I was glad that I did it. Otherwise I would have thought about doing it every single time I came into the city this summer.

He texted me later that afternoon, and we went back and forth for a few hours. At around 7:30 my phone rang, and I was surprised and pleased to see his name come up on my caller id.

But when I answered the phone, it was a woman. “Hello, is this Roni?” she asked. “It’s Rory. Who is this?” She said, “This is Gina, the Bouncer’s wife.”

To be continued…

When it comes to dating, I really need to start following my instincts. Out of all the dates I’ve gone on these past few years, not once have I ever ended up developing feelings for someone that I wasn’t interested in after the first date. Yet for some reason I continually find myself thinking, “Hey, it can’t hurt to go on a second date, just to see what happens.” I can think of at least a half dozen guys – most of whom I’ve written about on this blog – that I wasn’t into but I still gave a second chance.

Such was the case with Train Guy. After our first date he texted me that he’d had a good time and would like to hang out again. Even though deep down I knew I wasn’t into him (I wasn’t attracted to him AND I thought he might be a douchebag), I was still considering giving it one more shot, just to see if my gut feeling was wrong.

And then I found out that Pic-stitcher was only 25. That bit of information basically sealed the deal in terms of me going out with Train Guy again. I mean, Train Guy could turn out to be a douche, but he was my age and he hadn’t lied to me.

My second date with Train Guy took place two weeks after the first. It was a Thursday night. We met up at this little dive bar close to where we both live. When I got there he was sitting at the bar watching the Knicks game, almost done with his first drink. I sat down next to him. The bar was pretty empty – it was just us and a handful of people. There was mellow 60s rock playing on the jukebox, and the game was up on every television.

The vibe was fine if you’re hanging out with friends, but I don’t think it was the move for a second date. I mean, we were sitting side by side, so we couldn’t even really make eye contact without twisting around. But whatever. I knew pretty quickly that I wasn’t into him (how the hell had I forgotten about his annoying voice?!?), so it’s not like I was eager to have any meaningful interaction with him.

The conversation was pretty standard – until it wasn’t, that is.

At one point we started talking about crazy exes, and I told him about this guy I dated once who went a little crazy. When I finished the story he said, “What nationality was he, if you don’t mind me asking?” I said, “I don’t know, I think he was Puerto Rican or something. Some type of Latino.”

He made a face. “What?” I asked him. He shook his head no, but kept on making the face. “What is it?? You look like you have something you wanna say.” And then he said this:

Him: “Well…it’s nothing. Nevermind. I don’t want to say the wrong thing right now. I don’t know how you feel about them.”

How I feel about them? Did he actually just say that? (And how stupid is he? I mean, I had just told him that I dated a Puerto Rican – clearly I like them!)

Me: “Them?? Did you just say them? Let me find out that you’re a racist…”

Him: “No no! I’m not a racist, not at all. It’s just that in my line of work I see a lot of things, and I know that they have a tendency to, you know, be more…”

At this point I cut him off. I said, “Well, I think that there are crazy people in every race, white, black, spanish, whatever.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he ended up saying, “That’s true, you’re right.”

He’s a cop, by the way. What a STELLAR example of New York’s Finest. Way to live up to the Racist Italian Cop stereotype.

So yeah, that was pretty awkward. At that point the fourth quarter of the game was about to start, so I figured I’d stay for the rest of the game and then call it a night. I probably should have left right away.

At some point he turned to me and said, “So what kind of guys are you attracted to?” I said, “I don’t know. I’m into guys that are good looking, haha.” He laughed and said, “Well what girl isn’t? But I mean what’s your type? You seem like you’re into darker guys.”

I paused and then said, “Yeah that’s true. The guys I’m attracted to usually aren’t white.” He said, “Yeah, I could tell.” (How could he tell? Because I dated a Puerto Rican? Not all Puerto Ricans are dark, by the way. Just saying.) I said, “I mean, you’re white, but you don’t look it. When I saw you on the train I thought you were Spanish or maybe Arabic or something.” I thought he would get all outraged when I said he looked Arabic, which is why I said it, but he just said, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

From there the conversation turned to my salsa dancing and the fact that my salsa school is in Harlem – where, if you don’t know, a lot of black people live. “Ohhhh,” he said knowingly. “They must love you up there.” I knew exactly what he meant by that, so I said, “Yeah, black guys do have a tendency to like me” (it’s true, they do). He said, “Yeah, I can see that. I was watching you as you were walking to the bathroom, and you have a great ass.”

Sigh. What a gentleman.

“Thanks,” I said. I really didn’t know what else to say. At that moment I thought, “Well Rory, this is what you get when you meet random guys on the train.”

Fortunately the game ended a minute or two after that comment. I told him I was going to head home, and he walked me to my car. Since he only lives two blocks from where we were, I offered to drop him off by his house – because I am a really nice person and it was freezing out. When we got to his corner he went in for a goodbye kiss. I wish I could say that I said “Ew, what are you doing?” But I didn’t. I let him kiss me for a second, thereby confirming that I had absolutely ZERO sexual attraction to him. Then he said goodbye and left. He texted me the next morning but I didn’t respond, and fortunately he got the hint, because I haven’t heard from him since then.

So what did I learn from all of this? Mainly that I need to stop eye-fucking guys when I’m on the train. Because even if a guy is cute, it doesn’t mean that he’s not also crazy, or stupid, or a racist. Lesson learned!

1 – The sexual innuendos in his texts. In my last post I said that he had made two “sexual” comments, but there were actually FOUR. My friend reminded me of one after she read my last post, and then, when I went to reread the texts, I found ANOTHER one that I had forgotten about! Here they are:

#3 – When I told him that I’m a proofreader, he said, “Shit, so now I have to watch my grammar and spelling.” I said, “Lol don’t worry, I won’t judge you too harshly if you mess up.” His reply?

“You can scold me. I may like it. “

That was literally two hours after I met him. Too soon!

#4 – When I told him I take salsa lessons, he said:

“Oh wow. I definitely can’t dance to that. It’s a sexy dance though. Maybe you can grind up behind me and break me down with your salsa skills.”

What does that even mean?? Ugh.

2 – The level of corniness in his texts. Aside from the innuendos, his texts were also very corny. One example is when I told him I had dance class, and he said, “What sort of music do you shake your booty to?” Really? I mean, who talks like that??

I can’t even tell you how many times I rolled my eyes after reading one of his responses.

3 – He got drunk on the night we were supposed to meet up. Nothing more needs to be said on this one.

So yeah, I wasn’t that keen on meeting up with Train Guy. At that point I’d already had three good dates with PicStitcher, and my inclination was to forget about Train Guy and just focus on PicStitcher. But that line of thinking is exactly why I HAD to go out Train Guy – it was way too soon for me to be considering throwing all my eggs into one basket, and yet there I was, doing just that.

I met up with Train Guy at a coffee shop near my house. He was waiting for me outside when I got there. After we said hello, he told me that it was really crowded inside and that there were no tables. He seemed really annoyed by that fact. I said, “Well do you want to go somewhere else?” He was like, “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” I said, “We can go somewhere else.”

We started walked down the block. I said, “So where are we going?” He said, “I don’t know, I don’t really know any other coffee shops around here. Where do YOU want to go?”

As I’m writing down this story, that little exchange seems like no big deal. But I was SO annoyed by it at the time! For one thing, I really don’t like when a guy makes me pick the place. I prefer a guy who is decisive and takes charge, you know? And it was super cold outside, so I was freezing my butt off as this conversation was taking place.

And then there’s the issue of his voice…it was SOOOO annoying! It took me almost a week to pinpoint who he sounds like, but I finally figured it out – he sounds like Louie, one of the mafia guys in The Simpsons. (Click to watch a clip of Louie.) So as I was standing outside, freezing and annoyed that he didn’t know where to take me, I was also thinking to myself, “Oh my god, is he actually talking like this?”

I must have had a nasty look on my face, because he said to me, “Are you okay? You seem like you’re in a bad mood.” I forced myself to smile and said, “No I’m fine, I’m just really cold! Let’s just go wait inside the coffee shop.” And that’s what we did. And we only ended up waiting like 2 minutes for a table.

The only thing noteworthy about the date itself was the amazing cup of mint hot chocolate that I had – it was so delicious! The date was fine, I guess. We asked and answered all the basic first date questions. Oh, he did say that the reason he had suggested meeting at the coffee shop was because, based on the way I had reacted to him “having a few” the night we were supposed to meet, he wasn’t sure if I drank. When I told him that I’m not opposed to drinking, he said “Okay, so next time we’ll meet at a bar.”

The date ended about an hour after it started. I had known it would be a short date, since he had to wake up really early for the early shift at work the next morning (he’s a cop). He paid for our drinks and the piece of chocolate cake we had shared, and then walked me to my car.

My overall impression of Train Guy was that he was cute, but not my type. He was a little too hood for me. Even though on paper he seemed like a good match (he’s cute, he lives really close to me, and he’s 36 years old), I just didn’t feel any type of spark or connection. So why should I waste my time going out with him when I could go out with Pic-Stitcher instead?

That WAS my thought process…until I found out that Pic-Stitcher had been lying to me about his age and was only 25. Then I decided that I should give Train Guy one more shot.

To be continued…