What About Bob?

So you might be curious to know what happened between myself and Bob this weekend. If you’ve been reading you’ll know that he was already on thin ice and this weekend was to decide his status with me.

And his status was decided, I assure you of that.

Friday night Bob and I met up with Casey and her beau, a cheesy double date arrangement yes, but the perfect way for both of us to let the other know what we thought of her guy.

Bob and I headed up to the theater early to get tickets for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest (which is FANTASTIC. Go see it. Right now. I’ll wait…. Back? Isn’t it great? Yeah, thought so.) and while we were driving to the theater the following occurred:

Bob: What the hell? This guy driving in front of me is obviously such a fucking retard.

Me: Don’t say that word.

Bob: Why not?

Me: Because my sister is handicapped and it’s really offensive to me.

Bob: Well actually it’s not. (?!?!) I’m not using it in the wrong context if you think about-

Me: This is not a discussion or a debate. Do not use that word around me. Period.

We bought tickets, waited around for Casey and her beau to arrive then went and saw the movie. Afterwards we headed to the bar to get some pizza, play some darts and chat. Again, the word appeared in conversation:

Bob: Blah blah blah (I can’t remember what he was saying beforehand, I was talking to Casey) blah blah retarded blah blah (Then he looked right at me. As if making sure I’d heard. As if he wanted to see what I did)

So I slapped him. Not hard or on the face or anything like that, I hit him in the arm.

Me: What is your problem? *another slap* I told you not to use that word around me.

Bob: Well I can’t help it. I’m Italian, its part of my heritage.

Casey: What did you just say?

Bob: I’m Italian. All Italians say it. It’s just part of who we are, you wouldn’t understand.

Casey: Ok asshole, I’m Italian. And I don’t say it.

Bob: Well really it’s the Sicilians who use it.

Casey: What part of Sicily? Cause my family is from XYZ in Sicily. *Insert Casey’s great ‘I dare you to keep arguing with me because we both know I’ll win’ glare*

By this time I was already royally pissed off. Not only had he completely disregarded my request but I totally believe that he did it on purpose to see what I would do, like a power struggle. I spent the rest of the time at the bar glaring out the window, then Casey and I played 2 games of darts (of which I won both, yay me!) and then we went home.

This is where it gets really funny. Bob drove me home, in complete and utter silence might I add, and actually walked me to the door, like he expected a goodbye kiss or something. I looked up at him and said, flat out “I KNOW you aren’t expecting a kiss after all that.” then turned around and headed inside.

I e-mailed him, told him that I wasn’t interested in dating Jekyll and Hyde and ended it. The next day, while Casey and I were merrily on our way to the faire, I got a text message from him.

“Sorry you feel that way. Do you still want me to take you to the Faire Sunday?”

Umm… no.