So I'm sitting home with Mabel the Cat on a Friday night, watching a little Law & Order. . . When who do I see, but this creepy little actor I went out with a couple times. Michael seemed really nice at first—but then he's an actor, so he was probably just playing a part. It wasn't any big deal, but on our third, and final date, we met up with a friend of mine and the guy she was dating. As we sipped our beers, I watched as my date blatently hit on my friend! Right in front of me! Huh? On what planet is that acceptable behavior?! It was humiliating, but I didn't have much invested in the little troll; still, it pissed me off. I mean, wait til I go to the bathroom!
My friend—who, let's remember, was on a date herself!—ignored his flirtiness, but I sure didn't. I told him I was leaving and he announced to me that he wasn't interested in dating me. Uh, no shit! I'd forgotten about this, until tonite. When I looked up at the TV and saw his smug little mug smirking at me. I wish I could say that Detective Briscoe had kicked his ass and locked him up for good, but it turned out—just like in life—that he wasn't the right guy.