I agreed, against my better judgment, to go out on a date with Dixie Moocher. From his online profile I should have picked up on on the early warning signs. Blurry photos, shots all above the shoulder, hat pushed down low. Yet, out of my possible desperation I went.

The day of our date, we had exchanged phone numbers online so that we could confirm our meeting time. I had promised to call him before I left the house, which would give me 30 minutes to get there. When he answered the phone this deep masculine voice poured out of the ear piece of my phone. My first thought was, this can’t be real. But the voice stayed the same for the entire 1 minute phone call.

As I was barreling down the highway in my super aggressive, get the hell out of my way man mobile, I had the music blaring singing and dancing along – having a grand ol’ time. I was in a good mood. I pull up t0 the little pizza joint we agreed to meet at and walked to the front door. I peaked in but did not see him. When I turn around, there, 10 feet in front of me, was a tall stranger standing in front of me, he smiles and asked, “A.D.”? I was stunned! Surly this is not the man I was supposed to meet? But it was. Dixie Moocher. He was without a doubt a fraud. Not just any fraud though, a fraud who thinks he is not. He was over weight, over plucked, dressed in tacky torn up trendy jeans and chap sticked sticky. ew

Being the gentleman that I am, I put on a happy face, looked him dead in his eye, jutted my hand out and greeted him. How could I have possibly gotten myself into this odd situation, I was thinking to myself as we sat down. This was obviously a place he knew well, he asked the waitress for a guy that used to work there and proceeded to tell me how incredibly hot he was and how bad he wanted him. By this time the deep voice had worn off and the lace started to fly from his mouth. That wrist was just flying, the eyes were batting and lips puckered after every witty comment.

We ordered pizza, I had tea and he, well he had a pitcher of beer. So here I am, sitting at a dive pizza place with a half drunk oversized queen. Sometimes being polite is painful but I mustered enough strength to listened to his exaggerated stories about firing and hiring people at one of national networks and how he is so important and runs a whole division.

Before getting up to pay our tab he managed to convinced me to go to a swanky late night cafe in Buckhead for a cup of tea. I had driven all this way, I was not ready to go home and the idea of holding up a wall at local gay bar was out of the question. We got up to the register to pay, I pulled out my wallet as he stood there. You have got to be kidding me, he expects me to pay too! This Dixie Man is a Dixie Mooch!

Now its time to get clever, I pulled out a 20 from my wallet which was not enough to pay for the total since someone had to down a pitcher of beer. I then looked at him, he saw the twenty and, BING, the light went off in his head, I have to contribute to the tab. He excused himself to go outside since he had forgotten his wallet in the car. His Ford Taurus, pretty stylish wheels for a network honcho. He returned with a 10 dollar bill. A 10! and said that’s all he had with him. Crap, I got stuck with the rest of the bill. By now I really should have said, I really need to get home and feed my cat! (A cat that I do not have) But this hip place he was telling me about was something I wanted to experience. Plus he said he would pay for the next tab, so what the hell, I’m sure he has visa.

When we arrived I was pleasantly surprised. It was hopping with well dressed socialites ready for a night on the town. The hostess sat us at a two top next to the front window. Very nice. I quickly realized, they had a wine selection! Exactly what I needed. I ordered the most expensive Pino Noir I could find, after all this one is on him right! After an hour of more mind numbing conversation it was time to jet, to the next destination. The coffee house. Our waiter was no were to be found so we got up and Dixie Moocher decided to go hunt him down. I waited close to the table just in case he decided to reappear. All the while I had my eye on Mr Moocher. For a moment he was out of sight, then flagged me down signaling time to go. As he was walking at a fairly brisk pace, I started to wonder, did this guy actually pay? As soon as we stepped outside I asked him if he had paid the tab. He told me that he found the waiter and handed him a 20. I thought all he had was a 10? I did not know what to do. My single glass of wine was 18 bucks and he had a glass to. As soon as we got to our vehicles it hit me “OH MY GOD! I think just stole wine!”

Now the proper thing of course would have been to turn around and go back in and make sure the tab was actually paid in full. But I was stunned again, stunned an embarrassed. I just wanted to leave, but proceeded to the 3rd destination. I needed something to wake me up from the wine which mellowed me out so much. coffee was short, sweet and I was out of there, never to see Dixie Mooch again

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