The Story of Sweaty

As my girlfriends and I come across more and more guys that need to “pump the brakes,” as we like to call it, I am reminded of a young fella I met back in February 2K7.   I figure enough time has passed that he has forgotten who I am and hopefully has moved away from Atlanta never to hear of in his lifetime.  However, if he does happen to stumble upon this blog entry one day…then I just hope he’s lost my number.  Let me begin.

One of the top 5 most drunken days (keyword: day, not night – I could never keep track of those) was Oysterfest at Park Tavern in February 2007.  Chesley and I started the day at 11 a.m. with 5-7 bloody mary’s each at a pre-party in the Highlands, then gathered up our supplies (a hula hoop and a pinata filled with mini bottles of liquor), and hoofed it to Park Tav.  The rest of the day was sheer debauchery – we “made it rain” by throwing beverage napkins in the air every few hours, attempted to crash a wedding going on in the upstairs ballroom, conducted hula hoop contests with passers-by and actually broke open the pinata at one point and started throwing mini bottles out to crowd.  Four of us girls even stayed IN the hoop for 3+ hours.  No, seriously.


With it being so cold out, it was like a cozy mother’s womb in that hoop…if the mother was an alcoholic.

At some point throughout the day, I got lost from the group and was walking around the bar alone, conducting random hula hoop contests with whomever would participate.  And, that’s when I met Sweaty (or, so I was told).

Flash forward to the next morning when I woke up fully clothed on Nick Tapp’s couch and definitely still intoxicated.  I dug out my phone and started going through texts with one eye closed when  I came across this gem from a random number:

“you’re a sweaty, dinner this week :)

SWEATY!?, I thought with horror.  Did I stink yesterday?!  I immediately smelled my pits, hair and sweater, checked for dog shit on my boots, etc.  Then I realized….that he must have meant “sweetie.”  What…a relief.  And, what…a spelling bee champ.  I told Chesley and Nick, and immediately, the nickname “Sweaty” was born.

*Please note that back in 2K7, I took the time to type all these texts out so I would have them on file.  What you’re about to read has no creative license: it’s WORD for mother effing WORD.*

So, I didn’t respond to him, but he called and left a voicemail.  I didn’t call back.  Then I got another text:

Sweaty:  hey hula girl its ___ -  the tall handsome man from saturday.  it was nice meeting you and look forward to going out sometime.

Here’s the thing with me.  I knew that chances were, this guy wasn’t going to be anything special, but he really piqued my interest when he had the confidence to call himself handsome.  AND he said he was tall.  So, I decided to do a little texting back and see what was up…while still keeping my natural bitchy demeanor, obvi

Me:  umm i don’t remember meeting any tall guys on saturday.

Sweaty:  lol yeah i’m a giant

I think to myself, “I completely have NO recollection of meeting this guy.  Maybe I should cut back on the drinking a tad.”

Me:  what is your last name, giant? (read: let the stalking begin).

Sweaty:  lol you don’t remember me being giant but you do remember handsome.  well thank you beautiful


Sweaty:  my last name is ____ and unless you got more frazzled than me you may remember my birthday.  what is it you were getting for me?

What…the f*ck is this dude talking about? I need to put him in his place and cut the cord right. now.

Me:  sorry, but could barely remember my own name that day…i told you it was allison right?

Sweaty:  Ashley…

Me:  see….told you.

Sweaty:  so its allison hesseltine


Me:  haha wow i either gave you my last name or you are quite the stalker.  but seriously i am sorry i have very little recollection after 4 pm that day.  its embarrassing really….

Sweaty:  no you gave me your last name and july 7th birthday.  we talked about our relationship months down the road. mine is the 30th of june

What the hell is wrong with this guy and more importantly, what the hell is wrong with ME, giving out my first and last name and birthday like candy!?  Time to lay off the tequila shots, like STAT.

Me:  my bday is the 9th.  my mistake or urs?  ok going to bed.

I THOUGHT that last comment might end the whole thing.  Boy. Was. I. Wrong. Sweaty continued to hit me up, and back then, I wasn’t as big of a Facebook stalker as I am now and didn’t even think to look him up!  I know…I’m disappointed in myself, too.  So, I would randomly text him back if I was bored over the next couple of days, but 80% of the time, I just ignored him.  Here are some of the highlights from those days:

Sweaty:  we talked for a while but now i feel like maybe you were just drunk

What…a revelation.  I thought we already went over that.

Me:  i’m not gonna lie. i was hammered.

Sweaty: do you really not remember me in the least?

Me:  Nope.  See, I’m a drunk.  You don’t want to mess with me.

Sweaty:  lol yeah i have issues too but who knows i thought we hit it off.  i’m kind of up for whatever so the whole date is too much then drinks on friday may work.

no response from me.

Sweaty:   i look like george clooney to drunk girls

no response from me.

Sweaty:  i’ll break your heart so be careful

Ok, this has to stop.

Me:  r u drunk right now?  ur texts are embarrassingly annoying.

Even THAT comment didn’t deter Sweaty.  The next day was Thursday and the light bulb finally came on for me to look him up on FB.  I found him…and it was not good.  Not good at all.  It was OFFICIALLY time to end all communication.

Later on Thursday, he called me, left a voicemail, then texted me “what are you doing?”  I did not respond.  Friday, he called again, I  pulled my phone out, accidentally hit send, then instinctively yelled F**K! before hanging up.  He immediately followed up with a text, “hey going out tonight?”  I stayed true to my word and did not respond.  Responding to this guy, even in a mean way, was just going to keep him going. He was like the Energizer bunny of texting and apparently, rejection was his battery pack.

That Friday  night, I lost my phone outside of East Andrews.  I went all weekend without it and Sunday, it was recovered by someone who worked at the Patagonia store.  Don’t ask.  Of course, the first thing I did when I finally got my prized LG EnV back was check my texts.  Let me say this.  I don’t get speechless very often…but this was one of those times.

Sweaty (Saturday, 1:50 pm):  you suck at life

Huh?  Also, please note the P.M. Yes, afternoon.  Chances are, this was NOT a drunk text.  Or actually, on the other hand, if he was anything like me, it may have been.

Sweaty (6:34 pm):  maybe i jumped the gun but i’ve never met someone as special as you are.  i think you may be my first love.  i will always remember the very first time i saw you. everything was in slow motion and i got light headed. you are a true beauty.

Sweaty (6:35 p.m.):  i want to spend every minute making you happy. i hope one day you will realize how special what we have is.  miss ya.

And that’s when I threw up….and Sweaty became a legend.

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7 Responses to “The Story of Sweaty”

  1. L$ says:

    OOOOOOMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGG This is INCREDIBLE!!! What a looney toon!! I can’t believe that after all that, he still said that he hopes “you will realize how special what [you] have is???!!!” I mean, you already made it clear that you have NO recollection of him whatsoever- how in the world did he think you’d remember how [un]-special your connection was??

  2. Fire Crotch says:

    Priceless: “He was like the Energizer bunny of texting and apparently, rejection was his battery pack.”

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