Aaah...the romance!

Last night, it was apparently time for my annual date. See: no one can say I don't ever try to rectify my eternally solo predicament!
It was not, of course, a successful one. Though the sex wasn't bad; I could maybe revisit THAT part again....
The first red flag came with the initial phone call.
Him: "Hey, what'cha doin?"
Me: "I'm working a box office for the Fringe Festival at the CAC."
Him: "What's that?"
Me: "What? The Fringe Festival or the CAC?"
Him: "Both."
He's lived in this city seven years, and FRinge has been on the cover of every paper for two weeks.
Whatever. He's hot, has a motorcycle and has rappelled off all five of the KY/OH bridges. Yum.
At a bar on Tuesday, stood up by a girlfriend, I call him at 10:30 at night.
I finally get a taste of Covington's Main-Strasse night life as I meet him out. I ride my bike, since he no longer has a motorcycle.
He finally sold it...after his fourth DUI.
We arrive at the hoochie mama bar packed tight with 19 year-old sorority chicks. Three people approach him to chat about the fight he got into Saturday night. He is puzzled.
Me: "Did you black out Saturday or something?"
Him: "Yeah. I do every Saturday. Me and a buddy go out and get sloshed and spend Sunday trying to piece together what happened the night before. It's great."
He laughs and smiles warmly at the fond memory.
However, the boy can kiss.
Good thing I've already ruled out seeing him again and can simply make the most of my wasted hours.
In the morning, I'm awakened by his muttering "Oh shit."
"What?"
"My alarm didn't go off."
He punches some numbers into his phone. "Hey Grandma. Listen, can I get a ride to work? My buddy Joe usually takes me and he quit without letting me know.... Yeah, I just called him and asked if he was ready, but, uh, he's not coming! And the bus will take me over an hour.... Thanks Grams. You're the best."
Me: "Um...did you just LIE to your GRANDMA!?"
Upon seeing his apartment in the light, I'm impressed by the fact that such a tremendous television could fit through any doorway. There is also a poker table. And that's it. No art, no books, no cds. There are movies. Shitty ones. All romantic comedies and horror flicks.... And only two photos. Of his son.
"Yeah, the bitch won't let me see him. I'm taking her to court."
"But you ARE paying child support, right?"
"Yeah. Good thing mom pays my rent."
Woh.
The potency of my loser magnet is unequivocable.
Hooray for consitency.