I came thisclose to beating the living daylights out of some dude this past Saturday.

And in spite of my big-talking, I am not one who actively seeks out fistfights!

To make an incredibly long, drawn-out and epic story a little more digestible, basically I went out with my roommate and our friend from college (no names used to avoid any embarassment, that is, assuming anyone of them reads my blog, which is probably a no). We met up with a nice girl that our friend works with and headed to the west village, a place I like very much, in spite of its pricey locales.

Now, the whole point of the evening was to take our friend’s childhood friend “Gunther” (name changed for my own amusement) out for a night on the town (I don’t think anyone has had “a night on the town” since the days of talkies and the nickel Hershey bar). The bar we had originally wanted to go to was PACKED. I mean, you could not get in the door. It was a fire marshall’s worst nightmare. However, this really great little Mexican Bar/Restaurant called Panchitos was a few doors down, so I suggested we go there. It was just what we needed – not terribly crowded, so we grabbed some nice comfy couches, ordered some margaritas, and enjoyed the DELICIOUS complementary chips and salsa (seriously the best salsa in NYC in my opinion).

Then…Gunther’s friend “Fuckface” and his girlfriend “Bulimia” (again, for my own amusement) arrived. I’m not quite sure how Gunther knew Fuckface and Bulimia, nor did I get a chance to ask, because the minute Fuckface arrived on the scene, he did not stop talking. I’m not quite sure how he breathes with that much talking. Talking about himself, about how great he is, about stuff he saw on television. He began to interject and dominate every conversation, trying to ensure that he was the focus of attention all the time!! And then he began to bug our poor waiter Ben (real name, if you go to Panchitos, he is nice, tip him well) calling him “My brother” and trying to elicit a high-five.

God I was so disgusted. As I stole a sideways glance at my friend, I could tell that she too was totally shocked and repulsed by this kid (Fuckface’s) behavior. I mouthed to her “I hate this guy” and she nodded. I smiled. This girl is like a Disney Princess – full of goodness and light, with not a bad thing to say about anyone. Having her in my corner justified my mounting feelings of blind hatred for Fuckface.

I was pretty much ready to go. I left my roommate with enough cash to cover both our drinks (she was short on cash) and got up to leave with my friend’s co-worker, who also looked like she had had enough of being talked at by Fuckface. I got up and grabbed my bag, bidding my friends goodnight, telling Gunther it had been nice to meet him (not really.)

Fuckface, clearly upset at attention having been diverted away from him for a split second, jumped off the couch and cried “You going? Want to hug it out?”

“Not really. No.”

I began to move to the side, looking to move around him, when he suddenly threw his arms around me in a hug. I went rigid and said softly “Get off of me. NOW.” He did and I laughed in his face and walked out.

Now, that wasn’t the moment I wanted to hunt him down, and beat him to a pulp. Oh no, that feeling came the next morning when I asked my roomie how the rest of the night had gone and she told me that Fuckface and Bulimia had tried to SKIP OUT ON THE CHECK after having ordered another round in addition to their pitcher of Margaritas, about $60 worth of drinks!! Apparently they just went out for a cigarette and never came back!! Can you fucking believe that?!? Thankfully, Gunther redeemed himself slightly by hunting them down and forcing them to come back and pay, though they treated it as if it were all just a big joke.

Had I been there I would have punched Fuckface, no question. It’s probably best that I wasn’t there, seeing as I’d rather have not spent my Sunday in lockup for battery, but it would have felt really really good.