Museum of Awkwardness and Hookups

Before we get down to brass tax; a follow up to my last post:

Upon discovering the Groom's brother to be a lying cheater, I did what any sane girl would do- fucked with him. This included texting him throughout the day until he invited me to meet up with him again. And then I brought up his girlfriend's name. He finally called me while intoxicated and fessed up to his infidelity. He blamed it on everything from the booze to the fact that she had "cheated on him a couple of weeks ago". He apologized to me and I decided that as much as I hate the fact that I was the other woman in this scenario, that this wasn't my battle to fight. Was it the right decision? Maybe not... but it is the one I have decided to live with.

Fast forward to yesterday...
I have been talking with yet another guy from Plenty of Fish; the suspect in question is a 24 year old accountant from Orange County. We have been texting regularly for a couple of weeks, and although I wasn't very attracted to him I thought that possibly in person things could be better. I agreed to go on a date with him to the Museum of Science and Industry, not as much because I wanted to go out with him but because I have been dying to go to that Museum.
Before the date even started, some things worried me. For starters "OC" was calling me babe and darling. Cute if you are in a relationship. Creepy if you have never met the person. Also, he informed me of his love for nudity. Going as far as to say, "If it weren't for public opinion I would never wear clothes. When I am at home I am always naked... and if I had a steady girlfriend and she were over, I would still always be naked."

Ew. Not something you share before a first date, buddy. Save that conversation until you have a girl roped in and trapped, hence having to put up with your gross naked body all over her furniture.
My gut told me to run, but like I said... Museum of Science and Industry. So I decided to put on my poker face and enjoy a nice day... I should have listened to my gut.
Let's start out with the fact that he arrived to pick me up in his fancy pick-up truck done to the nines with strobe lights, crappy rims and undertow lights BLARING pop music. I mean, so loud I could hear it in my apartment and I could only pray that it was coming from someone else. Of course it was him, grinning happily away.
I was already embarrassed for myself and the date hadn't even technically started. Which is the only reason I can account to the phenomenon of what I will call "Nicole acting like a bitch", which I surely did several times during the day. I hissed at him to turn the radio down as I got in the car. We had an okay talk on the way there, but as soon as we got out of the vehicle a whole new issue arose: he had awkward baby/feminine face AND a pot belly, which he proudly showed off in his tight fitting tee. Talk about denial.
We went to see the giant submarine, where they force you to take a picture in front of the vessel. I kindly declined, but "OC" found this a perfect sentimental moment. He grabbed ahold of my waist and pulled me eagerly toward him. Upon exiting the exhibit, I was forced to look at said photographic evidence of my uncomfortableness... he looked happy as a clam, clenched onto me. You can see the fear in my eye as I give two thumbs up and lean as far as I can away.

He wanted to buy it. I can only think of one reason why someone would want to purchase a photographic keepsake of a first date... and that reason is insanity.
The rest of the excursion was full of us not really talking, or talking and not having anything in common, or me saying dumb things to turn him off, or me feeling so uncomfortable I wanted to hide in the bathroom. By the time he drove me home and announced his love for Nickleback, I was done. I openly laughed in his face as he tried to prove a point..."Haven't you ever heard the song Animals? It's Epic." I laughed harder.
One would openly assume that he would have picked up on the negative energy surrounding us. Nope. "OC" got out of the truck with his beer-bellied self to hug me goodbye and to try to plan date #2. I sputtered something about life getting busy soon. I still don't think he got the point.

That evening I went into the local bar to have a couple of drinks and came home with a gorgeous, 6'9 tall man from Virginia.

It was like some higher power was saying, "For giving that nudist a chance and still being forced to have a terrible date... here is a present. I hope you like it!!"

And ohhh did I.