As a member of the female species, at some point in your life you start to garner attention from members of the opposite sex, some good, some bad, some warranted, some completely disgusting. Growing up I was the “Ugly Duckling”, a victim of bad genes that caused me to go through a sophomore year sporting both braces and glasses. Then, eventually, as I ventured into adulthood, I began to take control of my sexuality. It had its advantages and disadvantages. With the inception of social networking sites, I got to throw it in the faces of tons of guys who had ignored me in High School as I pressed the “DENIED” button on their Myspace friend request and deleted their “Whoa! You got HOT!” messages. I also got to use my God-given gifts to wrap a modest slew of guys around my finger to get what I wanted, when I wanted: rides, drinks, free meals, purses, and random money. (Not a gold digging amount by any means, but more like the ‘Can you lend me $100?’ which I never have to pay you back –type.) But, beauty was a gift and a curse.
I found myself with a series of stalkers in the past. One such nuisance in particular being my asshole, life ruining ex-boyfriend, who I can’t decide if it’s simply desperation on his part or a secret sense of satisfaction knowing that every time he calls or messages and I don’t answer that he is raining on my happy parade. Almost two and a half years since we ended our relationship and he persists to try to get me to communicate with him in some way, shape or form. It starts out nice and needy: “I need to talk to you. Please call me sometime this week.” And then, like someone flipped a switch, his Mr. Hyde side comes out and the threats and nonsense talk begin. (Usually some babble about how much of a cold hearted bitch I am – that’s his favorite term for me.) I refuse to give into these pathetic and childish little games he likes to play and it’s rather unfortunate that he has nothing better going on in his life that he still feels the need to try and get in touch with me or to try and push my buttons.
Stalker #2 is much tamer. I met him through Craigslist (big mistake) when I moved to Philly because I was trying to find friends. We exchanged emails back and forth for a bit and finally met up one night, both drunk and out with our friends, for about 5 minutes. To make up for this, we decided to hang out the next day and go shopping. I couldn’t decide if he was really hungover, really dull, or both. But I honestly got tired of having to lead the conversation with him and so decided to avoid hanging out with him again. Until Thanksgiving weekend. I was bored and home and he wanted to go out for drinks, so I decided to join and figured I probably wouldn’t have to pull my wallet out all night. I was right. We drank until last call then got burritos and went back to his house to watch some TV. Well, we always know where that leads. One second we’re watching pawn selling on TLC, the next, we’re making out and headed towards his bedroom.
There was no sex involved but lots of hot and heavy followed by intense cuddling. I mean, really intense. Like, this guy seriously wrapped himself around me all night and caressed every inch of my body lovingly and kissed me all over. It was really, really bizarre. The weirdest part of all is that he looked like the low-rent version of my Stalker ex. Both tall, built, Italian, dark hair, blue eyes. They could have been Fraternal twins. Except stalker #2 had NO personality – something confirmed by our drinking time in the bar that night. (Although he did loosen up a bit after a few Jack & Cokes.) In the morning I finally managed to break free from his Bear hug so I could go home and get ready for my date with another guy that night.
A few weeks later, I made the mistake of getting ridiculously drunk at my office’s holiday party and went home and decided to let my stalker come over and hang out. Big mistake. First off, I showed up at my front door wearing red lace lingerie under a fleece Rubber Ducky bathrobe and wearing a Captain’s hat. I figured that would scare him off. It didn’t. When he came into my room, we sat on my bed and I drunk rambled and almost started crying. That didn’t scare him off either. He hugged me to make me feel better, then we made out and got naked. And then again, all night with the Bear hugging. Only, it had started snowing out overnight so the heat kicked on full blast. My room already reached sauna-like temperatures, so that combined with his hot, large naked body pressed against mine plus my dried out wine hangover, I thought I was going to die. As I woke up in the morning, still suffocating, a heavy snow had begun to fall outside overnight and was accumulating rapidly and I still had this guy in my bed. So what do you do when you want to get someone out of your house? Why, you do what any normal person does: Have sex with them so that they leave. And that’s just what I did. And I haven’t seen my stalker since, even though he persists to text me randomly every weekend to see what I am doing or to invite me over to just hang out and cuddle. Fuck. That. Shit.
I’m gonna backtrack a little bit to that date I had the night after my hibernation session with Stalker #2. I went out one night with some gay friends and I persuaded one of them to take me to the “Straight Bar” so I could try and get some. Well, when you walk into a bar full of White, Straight people with a big, Black, Straight-acting Gay man, things don’t really go so well. He sensed this and left me there by myself. I went and sat at the bar to drown my pathetic-ness in some beers since the Straight bar was pretty much dead for almost Midnight on a Saturday and I clearly was going home alone. Then, a guy came to the bar to get a drink and began chatting me up, asking me why I looked so sad. I told him that I was new to the area and all my friends were Gay and abandoned me there. So he offered to buy me a drink and invited me to hang out with him and his group of friends. I happily obliged and we went to another bar after, then back to one of his friend’s apartments. We talked and had a good time and then it got to be about time that I left so I headed out to go catch a cab. This guy was such a gentleman! He walked with me and took the cab ride with me, (Turned out he was staying at a friend’s place a little ways past my apartment.) and even PAID! Plus, he asked for my number – I gave it to him, figuring he wouldn’t call. But sure enough, following the “Swingers” code, he called me that Tuesday to ask me out for the weekend. I said yes and was very excited. I had a real date!
We went to a very nice French bistro in Philadelphia’s fancy Rittenhouse Square. Wow – This was just about the nicest date I’d ever been on! Usually I get taken to TGIFridays or something! We had 2 bottles of wine, escargots, crème brulee, and a meal in between. Then he took me home and I invited him in to watch some episodes of “Always Sunny in Philadelphia”, which he’d never seen before. Then, of course, we made out. But that was as far as it went. I wanted to keep it classy. He left and called again for a 2nd date again on Tuesday. This time we were going to a nice Thai BYOB near my house. He bought 2 bottles of wine but we only drank one and headed to a local bar afterwards. But at the bar, things got a little weird. After drinking and talking and having what I thought was a good time, he tells me “Oh I can’t always be paying for things.” And I was like, um… ok? Then don’t take me to expensive restaurants? I said “Oh sure, that’s fine. I understand.” We finished up our drinks and left to get our car from the parking garage. However, that is the last thing I remember: I woke up in bed naked next to him in the morning not remembering what happened. When I told him this, he seemed a little nervous and uneasy. He told me we had apparently had sex, and what I sure was jokingly, that we did it twice and that I said he was the best I’d ever had. I felt bad and wanted to get him out of my house, so I went to my drawer, got a condom, and had sex with him so he could leave.
Skip to the post-Stalker date: We went to TGIFridays (!) and then to a house party (double !). I got to meet his friends who seemed cool. We watched movies, had some drinks. Then we got onto the conversation of the sex-I-didn’t-remember. Well, apparently he hadn’t used a “rainjacket” because he didn’t have any. (Seriously? Who calls a condom a rainjacket?) And we both had an “Oh Shit.” Moment and decided it would be best if he took me home. Again, I woke up naked in bed next to him – this time in the middle of the night and even more “OH SHIT!” The next morning, with condom wrapper on my dresser this time, I didn’t even bother. I rolled over to tried to give him the hint that he should GTFO and finally he said he had to leave. I kissed him goodbye and then prayed to god for the next few weeks that I got my period. It came and I breathed a sigh of relief. I also didn’t hear from him again until shortly before Christmas when he sent me a text message asking if “Anything happened regarding what we talked about last time we hung out.” I texted him back and told him not to worry about it and I never heard from him again. And that’s my date rape story!
It’s really hard to date in this world. Guys are hit or miss. Forrest Gump was right: Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get.