Why you should never date a Taxidermist...

This dating tale left me speechless. Trust me, I am NEVER speechless! Thank you to one reader to share this horrible date!

I met a lot of interesting people when I worked in bars, but none left me as confused/amused/intrigued/disgusted as John.

When he first introduced himself to me, he was wasted and walked out on his tab. I was pissed and made his friend pick him up and bring him back (I made him leave his license behind). When he came back three hours later, he was even more trashed and didn't even tip on the $120 he'd walked out on. Charming. So of course when he asked me for my phone number, I obliged. Please, don't ask. I don't know why.

One of my coworkers, Emma, told me that she knew John (at the time I did not realize that what she actually meant was that she had known John) and that he was really cool, but was kind of hard to handle. I didn't know what she meant and I didn't ask... my second grave mistake in our short-lived little relationship. The first, obviously, was giving him my number in the first place.

He called about two weeks later, which I wasn't really bothered about because I was kind of seeing someone else at the time, and asked if I wanted to hang out. We agreed to watch a movie at my apartment (lame) and then go out. He showed up two hours late with an 18-pack of Busch beer on his shoulder, unapologetic and dressed way, way down. As I watched him drink beer after beer after BEER, I learned some really fantastic things about my awesome date. He was a hunter, a huge pickup driver (of course he was!), and a fucking taxidermist. For real.

Wait... let it sink in a little. A TAXIDERMIST.

Ok. So the movie ended, and he asked if I wanted to meet up with his friends. I actually knew a few of them from the bar so I went along out of curiosity, but once I was there I realized they were all just going to get loaded and tell deer hunting stories all night. Since I was stuck (John had driven us there in his huge truck), I decided that I should drink a lot.

This is where things get a little foggy... somewhere in there, I decided it would be a good idea to go home with John. Bad!!!! So, so embarrassing and awful. Again, please, don't ask. Not my finest hour.

Anyways, so we got to his house, which smelled of hot/wet dog (his hunting dog, I presume), and I committed my act of shame.

Still not bad enough?

Having sobered up a little, I texted my friend and begged him to PLEASE come pick me up. He made fun of me for awhile but eventually said yes, he would come to collect me. I did NOT want to deal with John, but I needed to get my pants from his side of the bed. I was trying to figure out how to get over him (as in ACROSS- I was technically over him the second I met him) when he abruptly stood and walked off to the bathroom. I panicked, but quickly realized he probably had no idea he was even walking and took advantage of the opportunity to lean down for my pants.

Only... my hand went into a puddle of water. Only, it wasn't water.
HE PEED THE BED. HE PEED THE BED.

HE PEED THE BED. Oh my God he peed the bed.

I didn't even get the rest of my clothes on properly... I just grabbed what was left and ran out the door.
My friend picked me up about five minutes later and made fun of me for the rest of his life.

"What were you thinking? He was a taxidermist."

The really glorious part was that when I went to work the next day, Emma was grilling me.

"What did you guys do? Where did you go? How much did he drink? Did you go to his house?"

It turned out she had done the exact same thing... with the exact same result. Only with her, it happened at HER house, and he threw his wet boxers into her closet and left.

I feel like I would be doing womankind a great disservice if I didn't leave them with the following warning-
Never, under any circumstance, should you ever, ever sleep with a drunk hunting bedwetting taxidermist named John. He's totally hot, and you will totally regret it.

One thing I will never understand is people peeing the bed over at 5. I have been black out drunk more times than I am willing to admit, but still manage to find a bathroom. This dude needs Depends.