The next guy I became “involved” with we’ll call John. That just sounds like a perfect name for a guy who would behave like this clown.
He actually messaged me online, and I cannot tell you if I had ever noticed him before, but I’m guessing not. His pictures seemed recent – in that they weren’t pixelated all to hell and didn’t have people in the background wearing clothes that were popular on Beverly Hills, 90210 – but they were small – like cell phone sized pictures. That should have been my first hint.
I probably wouldn’t have been that intrigued if he weren’t amusing to me. He was funny; he threw some pop culture references my way, all of that worked to make me think we could get along rather well. He was going out of town a couple of days after we began talking, and asked me to send him a text here and there. He said he was going to participate in a 5K with friends. I was definitely interested. When he came back from his little mini-break, we scheduled a weeknight dinner.
I was actually looking forward to it, but as I waited outside for him to show up, this dude walked up and said hello. Not wanting to be rude, I acknowledged him, which is when I realized this was the boy I was waiting for, and that his pictures were a little fucking old. This was the first time something like that had happened to me, but he still seemed nice, and he made me laugh, even if he was about 50 lbs. (and I’m being gracious) heavier than he advertised, so instead of walking to my car and telling him to suck my balls, I sat down for dinner.
He was actually not bad at dinner. He laughed too loud, and he drank college boy beer, even though he was nearly 40, but I was enjoying myself. So afterwards, I asked him if he wanted to go to a park that was nearby.
The park is seriously one of my favorite places, but it also serves a purpose in that it’s near the police station, so any screams for help will be quickly heard. And I get to swing. So that’s a double plus for me. But since I went on a few dates with this guy, let’s hurry this part along. He asked to kiss me, gave me a very polite kiss in the park and went home shortly thereafter. We continued to chat and met for a lunch date in his town.
He again drank college beer, but I thought that maybe since he was a professor he was obligated in his contract to drink what the kids drank. He was dressed kinda sloppy too, but I let that slide. I mean it was an afternoon lunch of pho, so I didn’t need him in a suit and tie, just maybe in something that wasn’t wrinkled all to hell. He actually asked me to pay for my own lunch, which was some bullshit. Then we kissed at my car, and he went with the tongue. He seemed to be a good enough kisser.
So the next weekend, he came to me. We did dinner, watched a movie, made out a little bit on my bed. Then he stopped me and told me that he had something he needed to tell me. Shit – he was married. But no. For absolutely no reason whatsoever he decided to use that moment to tell me that he sometimes had “problems with impotency.” I actually thought he said intimacy, because that would have been a little less weird, but no. He explained that it was more of a performance anxiety thing, so I brushed it off because obviously I am a glutton for punishment, and I think I saw it as a bit of a challenge if we’re being totally honest.
So fourth date – the sex date – I was invited to spend the night at his place. His roommate made himself scarce, and he cooked for me, which was nice. Then made me do shots so I couldn’t run away. We watched a movie and then it was time for “bed.” I knew what bed meant, and if I didn’t when he said something about having a no pajama policy I would have caught on. It was fine, I was down.
He kept getting hard, and I noticed when I touched his tiny little junk, it would immediately start to dribble, like a retard eating soup. He would get on his knees and attempt to put on condoms that smelled like chocolate pudding. But he’d be on his knees for three seconds, then curse and throw the condom across the room, complain of a leg cramp, and lie down. Eventually he would start rubbing my nipple like a fucking worry bead and the whole process would start over. This happened three or four times – I actually lost count. Not to mention interest. I just wanted to go the fuck to sleep, so I turned on my side away from him, faced the wall, and drifted off. Eventually his continual grouping throughout the night didn’t even bother me; it had become the bodily equivalent of white noise.
Until about 3 or 4 a.m. At first I was confused about where I was and why everything was shaking. Then, as I came to I realized. He was humping my back. Like a goddamn Chihuahua. I was in shock, and he finished so quickly I didn’t have time to protest. Then he was going to go to sleep and leave me shoved against a wall with professor semen on my back. Hell fuck no. I had to tell him to go get me something to clean up with. Then, thoroughly disgusted and as un-turned on as I have ever been in my life, I attempted sleep once more as his meaty paws kept creeping ever closer.
You’d think that would be the end, but no. It happened again around 6 a.m., the insane back humping, after which I claimed I needed to go to work and tried to get away. But he wanted breakfast. Of course he was hungry, he’d came twice. He didn’t even buy my breakfast.
He tried to make plans with me again but I kept blowing him off. Then one day I get home from work on a Saturday and he’s sitting on my fucking front porch, drinking a 6-pack, saying he wanted to “surprise me” and that he had drank too much to drive home. I should have had him arrested, but I let him stay. He bought me a steak – as he should have – and then made the mistake of saying he had sobered up. Which meant his ass was heading back home that night. I think he took the hint after every text he sent me afterwards went unanswered. Thank God, cause I’m not above taking out a TPO on a dude.
Oh, and as a nice aside… The 5K he was participating in. He was required to bring beer and wear red panties. And he did. If only he had told me that sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up an hour away from home with a crusty back.