The Pharmaceutical Owner

Unfortunately the title of this is just a nickname…he did not own 4 pharmaceutical companies, I am sure. Anyhow, maybe I should start at the beginning…

I met Pharmaceutical guy online. Yep, the best place to meet…well, how do I say this nicely, some “interesting” fellows. We chatted a short time online before exchanging numbers. Pretty normal. We then chatted on the phone through text a little. Again, pretty normal. He even called me one night before going out with his buddies. We got along and he seemed pretty cool. So, I agreed to meet up for a date. I picked the place. I was kind of interested already from our little conversations. I actually picked a new favorite place of mine…an Irish Pub. A small, comfortable place with my favorite Irish beer.

I got there first, so I ordered myself a beer at the bar and grabbed a table in the corner with a view of the bar and front door. When he arrived, I was able to see him before he saw me. My way of keeping my first impression looks hidden, in case they aren’t good. Back to the date, sorry. He looked decent, like his pictures. His clothes were a little baggy, not my style, but most guys need help. He was impressed I had already ordered my own beer. Yep, I am a girl who can buy her own beer.

So, we talked for a while and then ordered dinner and another round of beers. Everything was going pretty well, minus his bragging about owning 4 pharmaceutical companies and talking about his ex-wife and how she took so much of his money. Funny, in the same conversation of telling me how he owns 4 companies (rooms with phones, do they exist?), he also mentioned he never could get hired with Pfizer. An interesting detail, but I wasn’t concerned, because I had lost interest already. No one wants to hear about your ex-wife or about how she screwed you over and took your money on a first date. Needless to say, at this point I was just being polite and waiting for the date to come to a good ending point.

As the conversation progressed, he decided he wanted to know some of my interests when it comes to sex. Yep, on a first date. He proceeded to ask me a few questions about some really kinky stuff. I responded with “No’s” and “I’m not going to talk about that” to hopefully stop the conversation. He then, no joke, tells me, “My future husband will cheat on me.” To this I respond with, well thanks, but I doubt it. He went on about how I am going to be boring in bed and any guy would cheat on me. I got a little frustrated at this point and decided to just keep quiet. (Sometimes that helps the date to end quicker.) He didn’t catch on, he asked where I’d like to go next. My response, “Nowhere. You are on a date with me and usually people date to see where things will go. You just told me if you were my future husband you’d cheat on me. I don’t want to go anywhere else with you.” He then started to be even more rude, which I didn’t think was possible. He said some hateful things about me being rude, or selfish, or something along those lines. I had stopped listening, so I really don’t know what all he decided to say at that point. He paid for the check scolding me about something, walked out, and slammed the door.  The other people in the bar looked over and I just shrugged my shoulders with a smile. What else do I say?

I waited a couple minutes before leaving so he would not see my car or be able to follow me. As I walked out the door, a smoker outside gave me a funny look. I just laughed and said have a good night. As I walked to my car, all I could do was laugh. I mean, what else can you do but laugh at life’s rotten lemons?

One thought on “The Pharmaceutical Owner

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s