The Amature UFC Fighter

We met for coffee, which turned into dinner.

Dude was cut, and obviously not wearing underwear under his linen pants, a fact he would admit to later.

Dinner, make-out. Dinner, movie, coffee, wandering around a bookstore, make-out. Dinner at his place, movie on tv, make-out. Dinner at his place, haunted house with his roommate + roommate's girlfriend, make-out.

I liked him. He was hot. Smart enough, but still in the "figuring things out phase," which made me feel like the protecting, doting lover.

Then he had to cancel on Saturday night. He was sick, and no, he did not need me to bring chicken soup.

Sunday he called but I was at the gym and missed it, so I called him. He didn't answer. He called back while I was at the dog park. I returned his call, no answer.

Finally an email. "You are too good for me. I'm an alcoholic. I wasn't sick, I was horribly hung over. You deserve better."

That was the end of my three weeks with the Amateur UFC Fighter.