Dudefile #91 – The Origin Story

Dear DW,

The first week of March, a few of my friends and I went down to Panama City Beach for a week.  The thursday of the week, at a bar, I met this guy named Rob and we danced and talked for a couple hours. In PCB, the bars close at 4 AM. Around 2:30, he ended up leaving and we exchanged numbers and he told me that I better text him on Friday. 

Well, he ended up texting me all Thursday night after he left telling me he wishes I wasn’t leaving and he wanted me to stay. Friday rolls along. We texted throughout the day, and then my friends and his friends met up on Friday night at a different bar. Well, Rob and I just drank and sat around the pool to talk.  He introduced me to all of his friends, one by one. When Rob and I were talking he told me about his past, how he’s in the air force, lives in Alabama. Rob told me about his divorce and step daughter. It sounds weird, but Rob and I just clicked and connected well. 

I ended up drinking too much and I went in a phase where I can’t talk and am completely dead weight. When I’m in this state, I can still hear people talking.  More of his friends came and wanted him to get a drink. Rob tried to wake me up, but couldn’t. He ended up leaving me by the pool alone. Long story short, my friends found me, and took me home.

I texted Rob the next day and asked him why he left me and he never responded.

Almost 2 months later, I texted Rob the other day to see if he was ok after all the storms in Alabama.  Surprisingly, he texted me back about one minute later and said he was ok. We have been texting and facebooking non-stop. I asked him why he left me and never texted me back the next day and he told me that he came back for me after getting his drink and I was gone. And then he broke his phone the next day playing golf. He told me he’s really happy that I ended up texting him. So, for the past couple days we have been talking non-stop. He texts me first in the AM saying “morning” and from there on out, it’s all friendly talk. He asked me when I was going to PCB again. I told him maybe July, and he told me he would come down to see me. From there on out, we have been talking about me going to Alabama to see him. Rob tells me he wants to see me, that he has liked me since we first met, believes in fate, and that we connected. I definitely agree with him. He sends me pictures (not dirty ones) and I send him some (also not dirty).

I told my sister and sister-in-law about him and they got mad and pretty much told me I was stupid. My mom knows of Rob, but doesn’t know the whole story.

And this morning, after I woke up, I was looking at flight prices for if/when I go see him. 

I know, you’re probably thinking, he’s a guy, he’s going to say stuff to get my attention. But, honestly, it’s hard to describe the way I felt when I was sitting next to him talking back in March. And how he introduced me to all of his friends…

What should I do? Does fate really exist?

-Sweet Home Alabama 


One key to a great superhero is a great Origin Story. Spiderman was bitten by a radioactive spider. Iron Man is a fucked up supersuit made by a rich spoiled brat genius. Even a second tier superhero like Thor is a Norse god with General Hospital caliber family drama. (You should check out the new Thor movie, by the way. Surprisingly entertaining schlock.)

Good relationships tend to have a good origin story, too. Granted, they’re stories with a lot fewer Gamma Rays, but there is usually a little funny coincidence, or a great joke, or some kind of memorable and disarming detail like stepping on the world’s third largest wad of gum or ordering the wrong thing off the menu or getting shat upon by a pigeon. The DW and The Wifey’s first date, for instance, involved a Han Solo bookmark and a Mormon pie contest trophy. 

So, you’ll forgive the DW if he’s not seeing the poetry in a drunken 48 hours in Panama City. The DW’s been to Panama City. The only origin stories coming out of there are ones like The Time I Threw Up In An Ice Machine, I Think I Might Have Tried Anal Sex Last Night Or At Least I Hope So Because My Butthole Is On Fire, That One Time I Heard “Freebird” in Seven Different Bars, and How I Ended Up On A Fishing Boat For Thirteen Months With A Dude Named Duke. 

Let’s go over the facts. When you thought you had a connection with Rob was during an evening in which you later passed out cold by a bar swimming pool. Rob left you by the pool to be found by your friends. You tried to contact Rob the next day and he did not return your texts. Rob is military, divorced with a child, and from another state. In related news, Reese Witherspoon will not be attaching herself to the film version of these events.

And from there, Rob really hasn’t done anything that requires effort. Text is easy. Facebook is easy. You contact him and he responds. The DW would bet $819.42 that this dude will never travel to your home town the way you are planning to fly to his. Try not writing him back for a week and see if he shoots one text trying to track you down or if he mysteriously breaks another phone playing golf. 

Honestly, the way this reads to the DW is that Rob was a dude on the prowl for some Panama City panty candy, but you got too drunk to fuck him so he stopped putting out any more effort in your direction. Then, you contact him out of the blue a few months later, basically announcing that you’ll still fuck him even though he gave you a truly lame excuse for leaving you by the pool and ignoring you afterwards, and he figures, “What the hell?” It’s like you’re Thor, falling from the sky out of nothingness. Only instead of a beefy blonde dude with questionable acting skills, a huge hammer, and a testy relationship with Anthony Hopkins, you’re a chick with sweet, available boobies who doesn’t require a whole lot of attention. 

Look, is it possible Rob is a great dude with excellent intentions and that you can overcome the difficulties of a long distance relationship and that you won’t have serious issues with his ex-wife or his child and that you can adjust to being a with a dude who’s in the military? Sure. It’s possible. But the story so far doesn’t point to any of those being the likely next chapter.

Here’s to looking for a beautiful beginning if you want a beautiful middle and end.


the DW

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4 Responses to Dudefile #91 – The Origin Story

  1. Bobby says:

    DW: You are good at this!

  2. Jane Donuts says:

    I found that letter profoundly depressing. But good advice!

  3. liz lemon says:

    there’s this episode of 30 rock where liz lemon goes to the dentist, gets jacked up on drugs, and while she’s coming down, meets her “future husband.” she can’t remember who he is exactly because of the drugs and tracks him down for a date. and guess what? they were soul mates on drugs, but in real sober life they hate each other.

    clicking and connecting in panama city sounds like clicking and connecting in the dentist recovery room.

  4. So, let’s say that I took my kid to see Thor, and it is now on the “pour the wine and light the candles” movie list. That body? Good gravy!

    That being said, I don’t finance booty calls. I DEFINITELY would not finance the booty call of a man who left me passed out and drunk by the pool. I won’t even go into the whole “Why the hell are you getting pass-out drunk amongst strangers?!” aspect of it all. This whole things sounds born under a bad sign.

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