Of the multitude of ridiculously and obviously stupid things I have done, a few stand out to me… going to start with the worst first.
1. I had just broken up with someone, okay? That’s a terrible excuse, but it’s the only one I’ve got. I really liked this guy and he just put on some spiked gloves and squashed my heart a little bit. Anyway, we hadn’t been broken up very long, and I was feeling sort of reckless. It goes like this:
I was talking to this guy on a dating website. He seemed pretty nice, looked cute in his ONE (yes, just one) picture, and he was suitably impressed with my love of whiskey and beer. He said I sounded like a lot* of fun, and therefore we got along great.
He wanted me to come over and drink (Red Flag #1) and I wanted to as well (jesus fucking christ, me) but I didn’t have a car, and he lived in the next town over. After very little resistance, I agreed to let this most likely serial killer rapist psycho clown tap dancing meth head drive me far out of what should have been my comfort zone, and then back home in time for work.
Anyway, we get to his place. I’m completely lost, even though he tried to explain the way to me as we were going. My cell phone is dying. But he has an adorable dog, and I relax because how many serial killers could successfully take care of a dog? Very few, let me tell you. He takes me on a tour of his place, and I see a ridiculous amount of… jewelry. And women’s clothing. I am confused. I say, “Wow, that’s an awfully… colorful room.” when we get to his bright, glittery and fuzzy bedroom. He looks confused for a second to0, then says, “Wait a second.” and runs over to his computer. After a lot of awkward silence, he turns around and looks at me.
Serial killer rapist psycho clown tap dancing meth head: I told you I have a girlfriend, right?
Me: Uh, nope.
Serial killer rapist psycho clown tap dancing meth head: Oh. Well, I have a girlfriend. But I’m not in any trouble or anything.
Me: Oh, well, that’s good.
I’m feeling incredibly uncomfortable at this point. I start trying to discretely look around for any pictures of this girl, so I can determine whether or not I can take her if she happens to bust in all of a sudden to kick my ass.
I sort of want him to drive me home. But he hands me a giant glass of vodka and orange juice, so I gulp that down instead. Don’t ask me why this seemed like an acceptable alternative.
After my vodka fix I feel a little more relaxed. I’m thinking, “Hey, maybe he just wanted to meet as friends! I like friends. Friends are awesome.” I conveniently forget his status was set to “single” and that just a few minutes ago I felt like he had tricked me into coming over. We go out to his garage so he can smoke pot. I decline. (1 point for me!). Then we put on our bathing suits and go out to the hot tub. (-50320 points for me).
In the hot tub he mentions that I seemed uncomfortable earlier. Well no shit. I say I feel better after the vodka, but he has to admit it looks bad. Serial killer rapist psycho clown tap dancing meth head says his girlfriend had been out of town for a couple weeks visiting family, and he was lonely. He claims he called her and asked her if he could have a girl come over just to hang out because she had been gone so long and he was so lonely.
Now there are many things wrong with this. First of all, why do you need a FEMALE to come over? Both genders are equally capable of speech. One just looks better in a bikini than the other. And look where he’d managed to get me. Sitting in a hot tub in a bikini.
Secondly, if I were his girlfriend and he had called and asked me that, I would have thought that he was being a manipulative, guilt tripping asshole. I couldn’t imagine her actually being okay with this situation. I had finally seen her picture and she was definitely bigger than me. I wasn’t at all sure I could hold my own.
Thirdly, she was coming home the next night. He couldn’t have waited one more measly night? Yeah right. It just all seemed… off.
Now I was ready to go. Why now and not before? I’ve got nothing. As we’re walking out to his car, he casually mentions that he and his girlfriend are into threesomes and if I’m interested, he’d like to give that a shot with me. I smile and say I’ll think about it. Somehow I am not killed by the serial killer rapist psycho clown tap dancing meth head on the way home.
I’ve gotten a couple messages from him since, but ignored them. At some point whilst mulling over that night, it struck me just how bad that could have been, mostly because he had all the control. I didn’t have a car, my cell phone was dead, I was essentially in the middle of nowhere, and it was the middle of the night. Since then, while I may still do a dumbass thing from time to time, I always make sure I have a potential way out. You can only get lucky so many times.
* I’ve gotta say, I have had the spelling of a lot beaten into my skull by Allie at http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com
I actually typed “alot” first, and the weirdo brown thing popped into my head and I was like “shit.” This would be a great way to teach grammar/spelling. Every time someone put up a sign indicating that “Boxe’s” needed to be broken down before put in the rubbish shoot, we could send the alot after them. Or something.