I've heard from friends who visit the peach state that the sweet tea in Georgia is sweet enough to give you a cavity on the spot; apparently so are the men.  

Last week I crashed a magazine party with some girlfriends of mine. Since the magazine was a pretty big name we were expecting a lavish soirée; free booze, goodie bags and hot men. What we got was a rude doorman, expensive liquor and too many unattractive males.  

I ended up running into the sole handsome one in the bathroom. That's right. The club was so trendy they had a co-ed bathroom and a curtain in place of a door. I rubbed elbows with the handsome guy at the sink. Awesome. He held the curtain for me and my friend as we exited the loo. We said about two words to him before he started to pour on the compliments: "Well you guys are just fantastic, fantastic," he said to us.  

I looked up at him and realized how attractive he was. Georgia, as I will now call him, was about 6-foot-2-inches and ruggedly handsome. He was wearing a trendy, textured, white collared shirt, blue jeans, loafers and a sharp blazer. I was surprised when he told me he was from Georgia because he looked very L.A. and said he was a television producer.  

Georgia followed my friend and I back to our private booth in the corner. He sat down close to me, making sure our knees were touching. Before I had a chance to open my mouth he started up again with the sweetness. 

"I just think you're amazing," said Georgia. He made eye contact and locked on. I was uncomfortable to say the least. I'm fickle, and if a guy comes on too strong, I all but throw up on him and run the other way.   

Georgia didn't stop there. "You're beautiful," he drooled. He looked at me so intensely I thought he was going to bite me. "Your outfit is classy, but sexy." "Gosh, I just love everything about you right now." Did he just say "gosh?"

A pit in my stomach was starting to grow so I did what I always do when I'm uncomfortable. I ordered a vodka straight, two limes. I drank it down in a couple minutes and ordered myself another. Four vodkas in, I was feeling just as sweet as Georgia. Apparently I had unknowingly agreed to go back home to Georgia with him for Christmas.  

I'm not sure when he did it, but at some point in the night I noticed my right leg was draped over his and his arms were clasped tightly around my waist. He was clutching a small square of my skirt and rubbing it through his fingers. He kissed my cheek repeatedly and rubbed his nose against my face. 

He whispered in my ears that he wanted to make out. I thought about it, but decided that because my girlfriends were sitting less than a foot away I would pass and save it for later.  

"Come on baby, don't you want to kiss me?" he asked. Yes, he called me "baby," "sugar," "honey," and "darling," during our hour and a half in the booth together. 

I told him I didn't kiss people I didn't know. Ha! If he only knew.  

"But I know you darling, you're amazing," he said.  

"I'm a horrible person, or at least I could be," I said. That only made things worse.  

I remember thinking that he must have been drunk because he was swooning over me like a puppy dog. I immediately ignored some of his behavior, attributing it to a cocktail or two. I know how flirty I get when drinking, but this guy was something else. 

When the waitress came by for a refill I noticed that Georgia didn't order a drink. In fact, he hadn't ordered one the entire night. 

"Oh, no, I don't drink," he said. Ok. Single, attractive guy in a bar, by himself, who doesn't drink...he must be a recovering alcoholic? Divorced? Doesn't matter what was wrong with him, I just knew there had to be something really wrong with him. 

Then, he dropped the "m" word. "Why don't we just bypass all the dating and get married?" he asked. I practically jumped off of the booth and away from him. I gave my girlfriends a look and we left before Georgia had a chance to figure out what was happening.  

"K see ya," I said as I ran away from him. I was trying to exit as quickly as possible but there was a line at the valet. As I stood there tapping my foot impatiently on the pavement I saw him peak his head out of the club and spot me.  

"Crap, crap, crap, crap!" I said. I ducked and hid behind a Range Rover. He ran after me and managed to drop his card in my open purse before I practically jumped into my car and took off with my friends.  

The next day, Georgia facebooked me.