Marko? Polo! Marko? Asshole!

Hola bitches! As we speak, I’m sitting at my desk (the 9-to-5er) eating gummy blue sharks and listening to a 90’s playlist. If that’s not the recipe for a Manic Monday, then I sure as hell don’t know what is.

As I’ve previously mentioned, there is a new man in my life. I promise I will write more about him soon, but I am waiting to see if it actually materializes into something decent instead of one giant shit.

Since him and I are not exclusive, I still have funny dating stories for you all. You’re welcome.

So a few weeks back, it was a pretty chill Saturday evening and I went to visit my friend Anne at the bar she tends. I was sitting at the bar alone, waiting on a few friends, while I chatted it up with her and enjoyed a few free shots.

Well, every time I visit Anne at the bar, she introduces me to a slew of people that I usually don’t remember later. Not because I don’t care, but they probably just aren’t cool enough to register on my radar later.

So, as I’m sitting there, a guy comes and sits next to me. Anne introduces us, his name is Marko, and he swears he’s met me before. I say he probably has, but I have a horrible memory. My regrets.

Speaking of memory, I really don’t remember anything cool that he said to me, but he found it necessary to get me completely sloshed on vodka/sodas and Jager bombs.

When my friends arrived, we were sitting in a group at the bar and he ntroduced himself to them. We must have just been shooting the shit, because I really don’t remember anything of substance coming out of that night.

Well, Anne sends me a text that reads, “Marko thinks you’re fucking hot and cool as hell.”

Well that’s effing great, isn’t it? I don’t mean to sound like a conceited bitch here, but let’s be honest, I’ve heard many-a-time that I’m fucking hot and cool and where has it gotten me? Single at 25. So yeah. Thanks for nothing.

Marko is in his mid-thirties and owns a local Italian deli. His hairline is receding, revealing a large mole on his forehead. Just saying.

So I get up to go to the bathroom, and I learn later that this conversation went down between him and my gf.

Marko: So, I think your friend Lucky is pretty cool.

GF: Yeah, she is.

Marko: I think I’m going to ask her for the digits.

GF: Oh yeah?

Marko: Yeah, but the thing is, she used to work in a bar…and you know how those people can be.

GF: Umm…no, what do you mean?

Enter Lucky. It would be a great time to tell you that Marko has worked in a bar most of his life. So fuck off, buddy.

When I return, Marko asks me for my number in front of my friends, including Anne. Here’s his line: “Hey, can I have your number so I can text you, too?”

So…here I am in one of the most awkward moments ever. No only do I feel weird about rejec

ting this guy in front of his friends and my friends, but Anne is watching and I don’t want her to get mad at me if I don’t pull through.

So I say okay, and start reciting my number. I only make it through the area code when Mr. Hypocritical has something to say.

“Why do you have THAT area code. Is that where YOU LIVE?”

“Um no, do you want the fucking number or not?”

To this, Marko responds by looking over at my girlfriend and saying “See what I mean?”

Ugh.

After he grabs my number, he gets up to go to the bathroom. While he’s there, I get a text from him that says, “Do you like what you see?”

What the fuck? Was I missing the attached picture of his dick? How awkward and inappropriate. However, since I didn’t like what I saw I didn’t respond to the message.

After I was thoroughly trashed, I tried to do the responsible thing and stop drinking awhile before the bar closed. I had a few glasses of ice water before calling it a night and walking to my car.

Marko gave me a huge lecture about how I shouldn’t be driving and blah, blah, blah. I told him I was a big girl and to get out of my way. So I make it home safely and get into my bed, as I hear my phone go off—text message alert!

Marko (3:12 am): Want some company?

Lucky: No, I’m calling it a night.

Marko: Sucks for you! text me tomorrow

Umm, no i actually doesn’t suck for me because you are ugly and clearly a loser. So peace out turkey man.

So he gives it a few days before he texts me again, on Monday saying “We should do something sometime, you down?” If by something sometime, he means walking across a bed of rusted nails in our next lives, then sure.

I tell Anne that Marko was crazy texting me and being weird and he sent me the message asking me to do something. She felt bad about the crazy texting but said he was a nice guy, and he probably just had too much to drink. She said I should hang out with him sober before I made my final judgments on him.

Dammit.

So I reply to Marko, “Sure.”

Marko: ok, I know you work during the week, so just let me know what’s best for you.

Me: this week is pretty booked up, but maybe next week sometime.

Marko: cool!

I didn’t respond to this message and figured if he bugged me in a week, I’d goo through with the sober date, but if for some reason he forgot, then I wasn’t going to press the issue.

Four days later, I went to the bar where Anne was working and sat down alone. After ordering my first drink, I saw someone out of the corner of my eye leaning over the bar to catch my attention.

Marko.

Great. He waved me over to come sit with him. So I switched seats and he said a bunch of stupid crap that I really wasn’t listening to. Anne asked if I wanted anything to eat and I said I might, and asked for a menu.

“Didn’t you just eat?” Marko asked.

And deal breaker. I absolutely hate hate hate it when a man makes a comment about a woman and her eating habits.

“Yeah, I did. Got a problem?” I said.

“No…that’s cool.”

That’s what I thought mother fucker.

As the night continued, things just got worse. Since it was my birthday, I wore the appropriate shot-glass-necklace. I got several free drinks and shots from cute men, even a few with girlfriends, all the while Marko was watching from afar like a total creepster.

At the end of the night, he asked me what I was doing for the Fourth of July. I told him it was nothing big, but I invited a few friends to my pool to drink and cookout. So he says, “So I can come over?”

Thankfully, Anne pulled him aside and gave him a small talking-to.

Anne: “I think you need to back off a little. If you want to get to know Lucky, you need to make a reservation at a nice restaurant, open doors for her, you know, that kind of thing.”

Mark: oh really? she likes that sort of thing.

OKAY. This is where the problem gets serious. First of all, what girl doesn’t like that kind of stuff?? Even the sluttiest skank on da block would admit she likes a nice piece of steak for dinner and a guy to treat her like she’s human. And secondly, do I really seem like that shitty of a person where I don’t deserve a nice night out?

After that, I was done. No longer do I care what Anne thinks about it, I am not subjecting myself to a night of bland conversation all while a shiny forehead stares me in my face—obviously the face of a fat-ass-drunk-who-doesn’t-deserve-more-than-Popeye’s-for-dinner.

Since then, I got a text from Marko on July 4, asking me if I wanted to come to a party. I did not respond. On July 5, he texted me about doing something sometime. I did not respond. On July 8, he called me. I did not answer. I don’t want to jinx it, but hopefully that was the last I’ll hear from him.

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2 thoughts on “Marko? Polo! Marko? Asshole!

  1. lemmeholla says:

    OMG lucky-total blog crush. What a douche on so many levels!

  2. […] Now that I think of it, I’m realizing just how horrible Leslie is at setting me up. Think about it—it was her idea for me to talk to Flynn, saying he was a really sweet guy. It was her who told me The Has Been Matt McFaggot was ‘the sweetest guy ever’ and it was HER who told me to give Marko Polo a fucking chance! […]

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