Dating Disaster: Pete The Retreat
Written by: Gabrielle Slater
A girl walks into a bar, strolls up to the bartender and says, “I’ll take ten of your finest men.” This is the start to a million great jokes, right? For me, at least, every time I walk into a bar looking for a man it ends in some type of hilarity. The college years are where I began trolling for men in all the wrong places, like bars for example. I attended college in Tampa, Florida, so my disastrous dating history began down in the dirty south. When I say dirty, I mean it was like going into battle. I would adorn myself in the finest armor and war paint that would thwart even the most valiant of blemishes. Alright, so maybe it was just my tightest jeans and too much eyeliner, but I looked hot. Once fully equipped for battle, I was ready to pounce upon even the fiercest of alligators and wrestle that bad boy to the bottom of the swamp.
It was just another night looking for gators at “The Retreat,” a local haunt that attracts many students from the University of Tampa. As most people know, girls always travel in packs and that night I hit the town with my best friend Jill. We are making our usual moves and drinking our girly cocktails, when a tall gentleman walks over to us. This is when I first meet a guy who I like to call “Pete Retreat.” Pete Retreat introduces himself to us as an MBA student studying in the Masters program at our college. Besides being a brainiac, Pete Retreat buys us drinks for the rest of the night, which is generous. He impresses me with his smarts and his kindness, so when he asks to have my number, I say, “YES!”
A few days later, Pete Retreat calls me up and invites me on a date at a pretty fancy Tapas restaurant. The night of the date, he picks me up at my dorm room and I am happy to see his car is clean and he is well dressed. We arrive to the Tapas restaurant and have a lovely meal accompanied by a pitcher of Sangria. The conversation and the Sangria are flowing, so when he invites me back to his apartment for one more cocktail I again say, “yes.” What’s the worst that could happen? He took me for a nice dinner, conversation was interesting, and he is an MBA student for goodness sake!
When we arrive to Pete Retreat’s apartment, I notice it looks like a major frat house. There is a Bob Marley tapestry on the wall, the sink is full of dishes, and the coffee table is covered in empty beer bottles and cigarette butts. My internal monologue reminds me that he has roommates, so I shrug off the mess. The wine gets poured and I gingerly sit on the couch hesitant to allow my skin to make contact with the fabric, unsure what kind of substances have been there before. This is when things get weird. Pete Retreat pulls out a bong. Ok, I am no prude and this is college; however, I am surprised when my date produces a bag of something I have never seen before. The black baggie labeled “Jazz” is unfamiliar to me and the only recognizable thing about it is the saxophone graphic on the front. Pete Retreat explains that he is afraid of drug testing because of school, so he smokes legal weed made up of a blend of totally legal herbs.
He hits the bong. Suddenly everything changes. The shirt comes off. So do the pants. A hat goes on- a black, red, and green beanie with fake dreadlocks hanging out the bottom. All of a sudden, my generous MBA student date turns into a white, underwear clad Rastafarian high on legal pot. This whole situation sobers me up real fast and I sit there in awe as he literally transforms into an entirely different person. He switches on the film “Gradma’s Boy,” which is quite possibly one of the most asinine stoner films I have ever seen. My intelligence is thoroughly insulted by now. This is when he tries to kiss me- a gross extension of pointy tongue coming towards me like a dagger. I can smell the legal pot on his hot breath. In the end, he gets more nostril than mouth. This is when I called the cab. Goodbye Pete Retreat.
The moral of this story? Don’t judge a book by its cover or a man by his education. Perhaps beneath every MBA student is a hidden Rastafarian ready to emerge. Oh yea, and you should probably stay out of bars.
Do you have Dating Disaster, tag us:
T: Moderndaygf
