New Orleans: The final chapter

*I don't know why I bother with a disclaimer, but yeah, you might not want to read this one either.

The evening settled in with no word from Southern Boy, so I spent Saturday night on Bourbon St. I started by walking up and down to see where exactly I wanted to eat and then drink. LSU was playing Florida State at 7 and I wanted to watch people watch the game. I found myself sucking down oysters on the half shell at a place called Desire. I also had the red beans and rice, trying to take in carbs in prep for a night of moderately heavy drinking.

Off to the Old Absinthe house for some absinthe. In CT they don't let you light your booze on fire and I wanted to know more about the legend of chasing the green fairy. My understanding is that you can't get this stuff above a certain proof, but I figured with my pysch meds I might stand a chance at tripping. I moseyed up to the bar and settled into a group of men my father's age. Chit chat ensued and in a cloud of confusion somehow this very nice man bought my drink. The bar tender announced he hadn't left enough money to cover it because it was a $15 drink. I apologized and offered to pay for it myself. He dropped the money, grabbed his drinks and left.

From there it was off to a jazz club with another mixed drink. I only needed two that night considering in the afternoon I'd killed a bottle of cheap wine. Around 11:30 the vibe on Bourbon began to change so off I went back to the B&B, but not before getting some beads the old fashioned way.

By Sunday I hadn't heard anything from Southern Boy and my hopes of all his campaign promises were weighted down with the help of the humidity.
I headed out to the World War 2 museum figuring it wouldn't hurt to get in some history and my morose mood was just right for that kind of thing. I was able to take it in, empathize and learn why they are considered the greatest generation. There was a communal sense of belonging with a need to contribute to the greater good even if you didn't necessarily believe in it. I also learned how important New Orleans was to the history of the war. It was a very thorough museum giving both the European and Japanese components equal representation while acknowledging how the war was different on the two sides of the world.

Sunday afternoon I decided to give this dick a call and left a message:" Hey there. It's me. I feel like I'm being a pain in the ass, but I'd like to know what you plan on doing because if you aren't coming back I need to make other arrangements to get to the airport." Around 8:30PM I get a text stating he's coming back that night.

I'll admit I swooned like a school girl. I rushed back to the B&B, had some more wine, and popped in the tub to shave my legs. GIANT FUCKING WASTE OF TIME!!!!!

He didn't show up until 6:30AM Monday. If I had five minutes of his undivided attention I'd be shocked. He couldn't tear himself away from his iPhone. As I was getting dressed he said to me that he just took an IQ test and he scored 152.
I said I highly doubt you're that smart.
He asked if I was calling him stupid.
No.
Then you're saying southerners are stupid.
Nope I'm not saying that either.
Yes you are!
No, actually what I'm saying is that I highly doubt an on line Intelligence Quotient test is scientifically reliable and valid. That's what I'm saying.
Oh. Yeah, you just got too smart for me.

Now for the excuse as to what caused his Houdini act. While at the fair his little girl, his mom, and he were waiting in line for a ride. [Get ready for the bullshit] A guy cut through the line, knocking down his little girl. He says to the guy he needs to watch where he's going. The guy yells back you need to keep your fucking kid out of my fucking way. Southern boy hands his daughter over to his mother, and then proceeds to beat this guy up. Supposedly, he kicked him in the side of his knee, then punched him in the throat so he couldn't talk. The police were going to arrest him, but upon Southern boy's promise to come to the police station after his daughter went to bed they let him go.

Wait, it's about to get deeper and smellier in here. He shows up to falsify the report. Tells me there is a special gel that goes over fingerprints to inverse the lines. There is a fake name on the report. Why is all of this happening? Because his former step father's brother was chief of police and he went to high school with the police force.

This is a great story. Initially blind sided by some nostalgic notion that something romantic might be brewing I bought it, until I talked to SSRT. She said she'd hit me if I was there. My first reaction to this story is no way is this guy smart enough to invent a lie with all of these details. Then remembering my professional training and counting on other behaviors observed by this dick I came to a few conclusions.

He's full of shit, and if he really isn't.... Well, I don't give a shit.

He's a sociopath. Not much has changed in my dating patterns, but I'd like to think my taste in men has improved, at least a little.

Lastly, so you won't take a woman you just fucked and knew in high school to meet your daughter, but you'll beat the ever-living shit out of a complete stranger in front of her? Hmmmm.... Yeah, no thanks. I'm all set. Too violent for me.

So today when he sent me a text asking how I was doing, which is the first thing I've heard from him since a week and a half ago when I left him, I opted not to answer. He really doesn't deserve to know anything about me.