I reconnected with an old family friend a few months back. I was recently in town and he suggested we meet for dinner. The day prior to meeting up, he stopped by to say hey and confirm the plans (i.e. visual vetting). Five minutes before picking me up for the date, he texted “I’m bringing a 3rd person. Like to roll with multiple dates.” WTF! He showed up with an ex girlfriend of his who proceeded to ask me all kinds of personal questions over diner, like she was checking out her competition. She shouldn’t have worried because I was totally creeped out by the bizarre experience and he couldn’t have paid me to go out with him again.
On my second date with this guy I really liked, we went to a local bar near his house (I lived an hour away). We played pool, video bowling and in general had a good time. While he was playing pool with some guys, I chatted it up with one of their wives. Our conversation started out normally enough, but I quickly discovered she was kind of strange after saying a few things that made me uncomfortable. Well, her husband ended up leaving her at the bar and she claimed she was going to take a cab home. Instead, she immediately latched onto my date and I for entertainment.
When I told him I was ready to go, he asked me about inviting this woman (I’ll call her “R”) back to his house to play pool. I told him I was uncomfortable with that and just wanted to spend the rest of the evening getting to know him. We said our goodbyes and R said something about how she was also ready to go and, “I guess I better call a cab.” My date then invited her over to his house, suggesting she just call a cab from there. She accepted.
At his house, she kept going on and on about how much my date reminded her of her son (since she was more than twice his age), but kept touching him in a way that I thought was inappropriate, especially for someone who reminded her of her son. A couple of hours later, after I’d asked many times about calling her a cab, it seemed like she has no intention of leaving and he wasn’t pushing the issue. So I decide to drive myself home.
Well, my GPS wasn’t working fast enough, and since I was in the middle of nowhere, I decided to head toward “downtown,” thinking I’d have better luck picking up a satellite. After sitting in a grocery store parking lot for twenty minutes, I called my date hoping to get directions. He didn’t answer so I left a message saying I was lost and to please call me back. After maybe twenty more minutes and no return call from him, I felt like my only option was to go back to his house and use his computer to get directions. (There was nothing open at that time of night, and I had no where else to go.)
When I pulled into his driveway, I discovered the house was dark. I though one of two things must be going on: Either R finally left and he went to bed, or they were in bed together. I sucked it up and rang the doorbell. After ringing the bell twice, he answered the door. He immediately gave me a hug, claimed he was sleeping, and told me how happy he was that I came back. I figured that R had left, until he informed me that he was calling her a cab right then. She immerged from the bedroom shortly there after and told me, “Nothing happened! I mean nothing!” She grabbed her and headed back to the bedroom to presumably call a cab. A few minutes later she reappeared, screaming that she wasn’t going to take a cab home and that since my date was the one who brought her back to his house, it was his responsibility to get her home. When my date reminded her that it was always her intention to call a cab, she completely lost it. Looking me dead in the eye, she said, “He just had his hand up my pussy five minutes ago! What do you think about that?”
Then she launched at my “date” saying how they were fooling around and he just stopped as soon as I showed back up, and what kind of man does that to a woman? He tried to calm the situation down, but the chick was obviously very pissed off. So he called her a cab, which came shortly thereafter and she finally left. As soon as she was gone he tried to kiss me and I pushed him away. He tried telling me that nothing happened between them and but he didn’t deny her claims because he didn’t want to make a bad situation worse since R was acting crazy. He said they were just sleeping, so I asked why would he ask an absolute stranger that he just met—and was married by the way—to stay at his house and sleep in his bed? He didn’t have an answer.
Then I noticed that the clothes he was wearing that night were on the living room floor. I asked him why he had undressed in the living room, and he tried to tell me that that wasn’t what he had been wearing. Really? Are you kidding me? We spend the entire night together and I don’t know what he was wearing? I told him not contact me again, walked out the door and never looked back. Oddly my GPS decided to work right when I got back into my car: I wonder what forces were in play that night to make sure I found out early on what kind of man he really was.
I hung out with this guy (let’s call him Tom) like fives times and he got it in his head that I was his girlfriend. Not wanting the relationship to go in that direction, I told him that I didn’t want to be with him. A month later I received an e-mail from a “Ryan” saying something along the lines of, “You broke my friend Tom’s heart. He loved you and you are a cruel bitch for dumping him. He is so depressed he can’t eat or sleep. Please take him back.” I later mentioned the email to his sister, who I was friends with, and she informed me that Tom had actually made up a fake name and new e-mail address just to guilt me into going out with him again.
When I was nineteen I went on a few dates with this guy, who on our first date told me that he was twenty-six, which I didn’t think was too big of a deal. Four dates later he told me that he lied and was actually thirty-five, and then got all butt-hurt and offended when I told him that I didn’t want to see him again. He said that it was wrong of me to judge him by his age.
I was getting concerned about my then husband’s lack of vision of our future together. He seemed perfectly content holding down his crappy job that he complained about incessantly and smoking weed. So I asked him one night what he wanted to do down the road. He said he had all kinds of things he wanted to learn how to do. And I thought, “Oh good, he has interests other than weed, TV and conspiracy theories.” I asked him for examples, and he said he wanted to learn how to make clothes. I told him that my mom might be willing to teach him how to sew. I stopped dead in my tracks when he said, “No, I want to grow cotton and learn how to weave it into cloth and make clothes from it.” This coming from a man who was abominably lazy and had severe allergies to everything out of doors. Several years later, and still no homemade cotton clothes or realistic aspirations, I decided I was wasting my time with him and cut my losses.
I had a guy friend that would remove his shirt every time he got into an argument, whether it be with a random person at a bar, his girlfriend or the mailman. Funniest part was that he didn’t even have a good body that could serve as any sort of real threat.
A friend of a friend began messaging me on Facebook. I should have known he was a major red flag from the start because all of his messages consisted of “your very cute” (note the spelling) and “What nightclubs do u like to go to?” Plus, all of his photos showed him at various nightclubs, so I naturally concluded that he was very, very into nightclubs. Finally, he asked me out for drinks. He wanted to know when I was free, and I told him the following Thursday. Then I didn’t hear from him for two or three weeks then out of the blue he sent me a message saying, “I never heard from you, but do you still want to go for a drink?” I presumed the message I’d sent about meeting on Thursday had somehow not reached him. We set up a date.
When I walked into the bar the first thing he said, after hello, was, “I hope you haven’t done that black people thing of eating at home before you come out to the restaurant.” (We’re both black by the way.) Then he said, “You’re really quite tall aren’t you. What? 5’7?” When I told him that I was actually 5’9” he did not look happy. (I was taller than him.)