First published in the Santa Barbara Sentinel under the pen name, Elizabeth Rose.
My friend was hosting a party on the rooftop of the Canary Hotel, and I arrived just as the sun began to set.
It was one of those quintessential Santa Barbara evenings; the sunset cast shades of orange and pink and the mountains turned a royal purple.
I spotted her by the DJ booth and ran over to give her a hug.
âElizabeth! Iâm so glad youâre here,â she said.
âYou have to meet my fiancĂ©. Heâs over by the bar.â
She grabbed my hand and we moved through the crowd.
I met her fiancé and he introduced me to his friend, Anthony.
I could tell Anthony was smitten with me by the grin that wouldnât leave his face.
He seemed nice; a tall Asian man with an adult job as a chemical engineer.
Physically, heâs not my type but I was open.
After a few minutes of small talk, he said, âElizabeth, Iâd love to learn more about you. Would it be okay if I took you out sometime?â
Flattered, I dug in my purse for a pen and a scrap piece of paper.
He called the next day to plan our date.
It Started Out Ok
We met at The Good Lion, coincidentally the scene of a date I had the week before.
After walking in and seeing the same bartenders and possibly the same hipsters circling the bar, I decided this would be the last time Iâd meet a guy here â It was starting to feel a little like the movie Groundhog Day where I was doomed to relive the same date over and over again.
But let me back up.
Hours before, I was at a barbecue, day-drinking with friends.
By four oâclock, spirits were high and so was my buzz.
I donât know why I didnât cancel the date or, for that matter, why the hell I decided to drink all day, but I against my better judgment, I left straight from the party to meet him.
Anthony was perched at a table near the front window and as soon as I sat down, we ordered cocktails.
I recall a little of our conversation but not the second drink or the dinner we had right after.
My only clue to dinner was waking up the next morning in my bed with a full stomach and the lingering scent of pho in my hair.
Morning Of Regret
When I rolled over to look at the clock on my bedside table, I realized that I was still fully dressed.
What happened last night?
I got up, drug myself to the window, and noticed my car missing in the driveway.
My stomach dropped.
I ran to my computer and logged in to check my bank account.
Thank God that I had enough sense to call an Uber.
Or maybe Anthony insisted?
I shuttered at what might have happened and said a prayer, thankful I was safe at home.
Forgoing coffee â my hangover wouldnât allow it quite yet â I peeled off my clothes, got in the shower, and stood motionless, hoping the water would wash away my horrible feeling of regret.
I couldnât go on living like this, especially on dates with men I hardly know.
Anthony called later that evening.
I was almost too embarrassed to answer the phone but was pretty sure I owed him an apology.
I swallowed what was left of my pride and answered.
âHey Elizabeth, are you⊠okay?â
Instead of going on and on about what an idiot I was, I kept it simple â Iâm sure my behavior the night before spoke for itself.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â I said. âIâm really sorry. Thanks for making sure I got home okay.â
After a few seconds of silence, he brushed it off.
âWell, it happens to the best of us. I had a great time and would love to take you out again.â
Is he serious?
I agreed to a second date, mainly out of guilt and hoping I could make up for the fact that I was a complete drunk.
I had a chance to prove I wasnât a total train-wreck.
At the very least, I owed it to myself.
Oh My Gosh! How awful. You are so great though because you not only answered the phone, but also agreed to another date!
OMG, this is one of my “shudder memories” â I can’t help but shiver at the thought of my behavior! After the lessons are learned from times like that, they definitely make for good stories if you’re willing to reveal them (we’ve all got them in some shape or form). Thank you for reading, Katie! Your input is always welcomed!