What? We can make it a family affair.

This incident is fairly recent, and I finally learned to quit involving myself with guys that I meet at bars. I went to a Karoke competition that my musically talented roommate was in, and met the Mexican. The Mexican seemed like a decent fellow, a little awkward, but so clearly am I. He was getting his PhD in computer sciences, so I was attracted to the intelligence. The good looking part didn't hurt.

Well, after hitting it off, the Mexican and I hung out a few times while I was still in Manhattan, and while I enjoyed myself, I didn't see it going anywhere. I had just broken up with someone, and was really just looking for a distraction.

Summer came, and I ventured back to Kansas City. Since we had never set follow up dates, I decided to just let my Latin experience fizzle out. When I started getting emails from the Mexican, I figured, aww what the hell, maybe something will develop from this, I'll give it a try.

The Mexican contacted me to let me know he would be in town for a buddy's housewarming party, and wanted to know if I'd like to hang out. He also mentioned that it would be him and several friends that would be in town. At one point I got an e-mail saying he may have to cancel, because he didn't have any place to stay. I still didn't know him very well, nor did I know his friends, so I wasn't about to offer my parents' place up. I said as much (but much nicer) in an e-mail. He figured out a place to stay, and we were back on track.

So, that weekend he picks me up after work to take me to the new bar scene downtown. I have no sense of direction, and he is not from the area, so it was a little difficult getting there. Apparently that made it okay for him to be rude to me. Not okay. Then, we get to the Power and Light district, and one of the bars had a cover charge. I don't have cash, he doesn't offer to pay. Not to be old fashioned, but he invited me. I tell him I will get him a drink if he pays my cover charge. Instead of being a gentleman, he takes me up on it. Ooookay. We meet up with one of his friends and the night is filled with awkward, stilted conversation. I realize that I should have trusted my first instincts and just let it fizzle out.

The best part is when he took me home. We pull into my driveway and as I'm about to exit the car, he turns to me and says.
"I don't understand what the big deal is, why I couldn't stay."
"What?"
"Well, I don't understand why I couldn't have spent the night."
"Um, because this is my parents house and that's disrespectful, plus, I thought there would be more of you coming."
"Yeah, I guess I still don't understand what the big deal is."
"Ookay, well have a good night."

Well, here's what the big deal was. I didn't know him that well, and I didn't have my parents permission. Not to mention, I was under the impression that he had a group of friends that needed a place to stay. If he were a good friend, or even a boyfriend, it would have been a different story.

Moral of the Story:
Sleepovers are a privilege, not a right.