Before he heads to the next room, Bravo grabs me and kisses me on the cheek. I am fooled into thinking he is leaving, because the cheek kiss was so random, but alas, I am still not so lucky. After a few minutes listening to music in the next room with my father, Bravo beckons me to join them. I go, because I'm a nice girl that has a hard time being mean even when the situation calls for it. My father is standing behind his bar while Bravo and I are seated in front of it. Bravo decides to change his strategy.
He grabs my hands and looks me right in the eye and tells me that his girlfriend (!) is a model. She is tall, beautiful, blonde, and blue-eyed. And he would leave her in a second for me. I'm surprised to see how hard he's pursuing me if he already has a girlfriend, but that's the story of my life. I don't think I really responded to this, because I was probably at a double loss for words and also a little bit drunk. He mentioned it a couple more times. I think I may have shrugged, or laughed, or said "that's great" at his last mention of her because, god I mean, shut up already, I get it. You have this awesome chick and I'm shorter and browner. Anyway, he responded to my dismissal of it with "I don't like American girls." I laughed and answered "Well, I'm an American girl." And he says, "No. You know what I mean." Well, then why are you dating one and throwing her in my face? Meh. So I'm getting kind of fed up at this point. Bravo is showing his inebriation more. He keeps wrapping his arm around me and pulling me in to nuzzle/kiss me on the cheek. I feel weird that he's doing this in front of my father, because I know that this is probably about the time that my father is thinking up multiple ways to murder this man.
So, at this point, my father says that maybe it's time to call it a night. He mentions (to my great disbelief) the Memorial Day party we'll be having that Sunday, and if he likes, he can come by. Bravo puts on his bold shoes and says "Ok, how about you call it a night, and she comes to stay with me." TO MY FUCKING FATHER. I think this might have been when my dad started thinking of places to bury the body. My dad tells him that's not going to happen (still remaining surprisingly not threatening) and that it's time to go. My father heads to the kitchen and I start to walk after him. Bravo stands in front of me and gives me a hug. Then he goes to kiss me on the cheek, but turns his face at the last second. Since I've seen most John Hughes movies, I was alert enough to quickly turn my face the other way to avoid a forcible mouth kiss. He tried to go for the mouth kiss one more time, and again I dodged it artfully. And like every girl learns in rape defense 101, I told him "no!" and pushed him away. This was the last of my interaction with Bravo. My father said his goodbyes/see you laters to him and showed him out. Bravo sat in his car in front of the house for half an hour before leaving. He left a beer bottle on the lawn for my father to discover the next morning.
Also left the next morning was a strange voicemail on my father's cellphone. It was a lady saying that there was a man there that was too inebriated to drive home, and when asked if there was anyone to contact, he gave them my father's name. What was strange about this was that my dad had given Bravo his business card, which doesn't have his cell number on it. So we weren't even sure this was Bravo until my dad called the number back later that day and the bar confirmed that it was him, but it was all taken care of. And my luck finally kicked in when Bravo did not show up for the Memorial Day BBQ. I'm assuming he was too drunk the night he came over to remember his way back to the house.
I found out later that Bravo had been at the restaurant with three friends. He completely ditched them in the middle of their meal to hang out with us. And I don't think he even told them he was leaving. Something I also learned is that my brother is less protective in these situations and more pimp. He kept saying "What can I tell him? She's funny! She's smart! She's nice!" Also, my dad was pleased with hearing me speak Spanish, the most he's ever heard me speak. I was just impressed I could speak it after six beers.