Adventures in Face-Licking

I often question whether dumb luck is something that just happens to everyone in this world or if I really seem to attract weirdness like a comic book convention attracts never-been-kissed men who live in their mothers' basements.  I always seem to have these absolutely bizarre encounters, and I have no explanation for why this screwy stuff occurs whenever I'm around.

Todd, Rowdy, and Bear attended the local university in town and get football tickets together every season.  It was my first game tagging along with them.  The weather was perfect, the tailgating was abundant, and the people watching was sensational.  All in all, it was quite the day—that is, until our team started losing. Badly.

Around the third quarter of the game, Rowdy and I finally give up hope and decide to venture on a little excursion to visit with her good friend who works at the stadium—and what a good choice!  Not only does her friend get us into the Club Level seating of the game, but we are escorted into the VIP Club (a.k.a. Party Lounge) of the stadium!  I feel as though we have entered some prestigious night club and half-expect to turn around and see P-Diddy kicking back drinks with the Rock and the Kardashian sisters scantily-clad on the dance floor. Unreal.

So Rowdy and I claim our place at the railing overlooking the field to watch the end of the game while inwardly freaking over the good fortune that has landed us in this very exclusive spot.  Out of nowhere, an attractive, mid-30s guy joins us and stands at the railing next to me.

"Hi there," he says with a huge smile at me.  I smile back, say hi, and then quickly glance back at Rowdy who is giving me a discreet thumbs-up in approval of Mr. VIP's disarming good looks.

Before I can barely turn my head back to Mr. VIP, he has picked up my hand and is now holding it.  I kid you not.  What the heck?  I draw my gaze from his hand holding mine up to his face, and I am surprised that he is simply standing there, smiling broadly at me, his body now completely turned to face me instead of the football game.

"Errr...hi?  How are you?" I ask him nervously, still wondering what exactly to do about getting my hand out of his grasp without revealing that I am a bit freaked out at his unashamed affection with a complete stranger.  I can see Rowdy trying desperately to surpress the laughter that is bubbling up in her, without much success.  I slowly start to pull my hand away, but that only makes him clutch it more firmly.  Yikes.

"Are you nice?  You look like you are nice," Mr. VIP says to me, matter-of-factly, with a serious gaze.

I carefully consider my response.  "I think I am nice.  Are you nice?"

He sighs resignedly.  "I am nice."

"You say that like it is a bad thing!"  For a moment, I think I forget that this conversation is beyond weird and actually react normally to Mr. VIP's dejected comment.

Mr. VIP continues to smile at me.  Rowdy intervenes in an amused attempt to elicit more entertainment from this transaction, reveals that Mr. VIP has season tickets to this expensive part of the stadium, ends up with his phone number and an post-game outing invitation (shocker), and causes this guy to start rubbing my neck at one point, as well.  Creepiness abounds.

"What do I do?!?"  I whisper to Rowdy at one point.  "I mean, he's cute, but come on!!!"

"Shhh, you could get a really awesome date out of this!  Go with it!  He's got to be loaded to have season tickets in here," she urges.

Finally, one of Mr. VIP's friends comes up to inform him they are headed out.  Mr. VIP turns to give me a seductive smile.  "You should come with me," he says to me with a wink.

I think quickly and use Rowdy as my excuse.  "Oh, well, can't...I'm with her.  We came here together.  Kinda a package deal tonight.  Sorry."

Then, Mr. VIP leans in close, gets right up to my face, before he responds: "So both of you come with me—I like the package."

I wish I could say that was the end of that, but unfortunately, Mr. VIP couldn't leave without saying good bye.  He put both his arms around my neck and proceeded to make out with the side of my face.  Again—not kidding.  He actually licked my face, right there in the middle of the VIP Club of the stadium.

Bear:     I'm gonna blog about my date last night. Like, 'we met for dinner, made inane chit-chat, ate food, said goodnight'...actually that would be the exact post lol

DD:     why does this weird stuff only happen to me? i had a guy LICK MY FACE. where do i find these people? gross

Bear:     it happens to everyone

DD:      no really - that doesn't happen to everyone

Bear:     lol, ok that one is just funny. but go to a douche magnet like the VIP lounge at the stadium and people are going to lick ur face! its just common sense

DD:     i'm gonna take a poll. how many people have had their face licked by a stranger. guess what - i bet not that many people are gonna respond yes!

So go ahead—help Bear and I settle our dispute.  Vote below!

Have you ever had your face licked by a
stranger in the middle of a public place?

Lesson #7 in Post-Divorce Dating:  If a complete stranger ever approaches you, takes your hand in his, and smiles at you seductively, get out of there fast and report the suspect immediately to the authorities—he could be a face-licker.  Fight back, America.  Remember—you can make a difference.

Forever fearless,
Dumbfounded Divorcée