My mom reads this, y'all.
So here's your offramp everyone, a trip down memory lane for those of you who want to keep your image of me unmarred by some drunk and slutty decision making on my part.
Remember that time I built a desk all by myself? You can check that out here!
Still here? How about that time we all had so much fun at Tall Corn Days?
Are you sure you want to keep going? Oooh, go look at pictures of when I babysat James! He's so adorable!
This is your last chance, folks. Go re-live my amazing Pride weekend!
...actually I thought I had AIDS in that last one, scratch that.
By reading on beyond this point, you're agreeing not to think less of me after I tell you the story about the time I went home from the bar with an almost stranger who had possibly developed a taste for human flesh.
It's important to me to stress that this was not a one night stand. I'd vetted this person...pretty briefly, but he wasn't a total stranger. I'd met him on OK Cupid a few months before the incident. We'll call him Carlos because he was a spicy latino with a gorgeous accent (and also because I sometimes forget his actual name when I tell this story).
Carlos was two years older than me and a med student living in St. Paul. He was a total nerd who didn't even flinch when I turned our conversation into an hour long discussion of gender roles and power dynamics in Joss Whedon shows (which I do with every potential suitor, no matter how hard I try to stop it). He was a cheerleader in college, which turns out is a huge f#%!ing turn on for me (who knew?!). His messages were all punctuated correctly, and he knew where the line was between creepy and flirty (which seems to be a rare find).
After a few weeks of messaging, he made the trip down to Mankato to go out to dinner and a movie. We had a wonderful date. Dinner conversation wasn't awkward at all, and he was nice enough to not comment on what a disgusting slob I am when I'm trying to use chopsticks (or judge me when I finally just grabbed a fork). We debated whether zombies or robots would make for a more terrifying apocalypse (robots...duh), and discussed our mutual love for RuPaul's Drag Race.
The night really couldn't have gone better, and when the date ended he walked me to my door and gave me probably the sweetest kiss I've ever experienced...
...and then we didn't talk for three months.
The obligatory "I had a great time last night" texts were sent, and then we kind of just forgot about each other. Gay men have the attention span of a four year old...after a pixie stick binge...with ADHD...at Disneyworld. I swooned over him for about a day afterwards before realizing that St. Paul is like a long way away, and...oh hey, look at that guy's arms.
Fast forward three months. It's boys weekend in Minneapolis. These weekends always begin the same way. We discuss how we're not going to get that crazy this weekend. I mean, we want to be classy drunk, and not klassy drunk. Sleepy eyes and slurred speech are never going to help you hook a husband.
It all shifts after the second drink though...
We lost control of the night early...like by eight. My memory of the middle of the night is a bit fuzzy. I remember looking up and watching the shock register on my friend's face as he mentally counted out how many drinks he'd already had before 9pm. I remember wandering the streets of Minneapolis in search of a cab in -10 degree weather. There's a YouTube video that was stumbled upon randomly where I can be spotted wearing the outfit I wore that night, tipping a drag queen, and then nearly tipping over. So that proves that we were at the 90's at some point, but I can't really remember any other specifics.
My memory comes back into sharp focus at the end of the night. That's when I spotted Carlos across the bar. We made eye contact, and I yelled something along the lines of "SHUT THE F#%! UP!" We tried talking for a few minutes, but we realized pretty quickly that it was far too loud to do anything but sloppily make out against the bar.
Quickly venturing beyond Klassy and into Quassy territory.
This went on for about twenty minutes before I found my friends, told them I would see them in the morning, and made them promise that they'd avenge my death if I ended up axe murdered.
...and they thought I was kidding.
I spent the entire cab ride back to Carlos's place animatedly talking about how glad I was that I'd run into him again. I regaled him with stories from my night and filled him in on what I'd been up to since our first date. I was witty, charming, and engaging...he was quiet and distracted.
It was no matter, I'd get him to open up. I was imagining the romantic night we'd have. I mean...I knew what was probably going to end up happening, and I was on board, but I figured after that we'd stay up all night talking and laughing. We'd form inside jokes and talk about our dreams, telling each other things that we'd never told anyone else before until one of us realized that the sun had come up. He'd joke that he had better get me back to my friends, but maybe we could stop at this cute little diner that he knows about for breakfast?
I knew the night was headed in a different direction when we got to his apartment. He let me in the door, and when he flipped on the lights I realized I was standing in a completely empty room. We're talking hardwood floors with no rugs, white walls with no pictures, no furniture, save a folding chair and a laptop sitting on a TV tray. I could see into the kitchen from the living room, and the counters were bare. There was a cabinet door hanging open revealing a shelf with a half eaten jar of peanut butter and some bread that provided the only proof that a human being had recently been in this residence.
This was obviously a murder apartment.
I was convinced that I'd stumbled into some Law & Order SVU bullshit. He clearly was living some sort of sick double life where he had a wife, kids, and golden retriever in the suburbs, but on the weekends he went on "business trips" to seduce naive young (okay...maybe aging slightly) gay boys, bring them back to the sketchy apartment he kept within cab distance, murder them, and make duvet covers out of their skin (I have always had soft skin and a nice complexion).
I made a joke about not knowing that he was Greek (it was a whole Spartan reference that fell flat because of all the terror), and discretely checked my phone only to find that it had died sometime in the cab ride.
F#%!.
He explained that he'd moved from out of state to go to school, and could only bring what he could fit in his car. I pointed out that a nice framed photo or two of a lighthouse or a row boat wouldn't have taken up all that much space and proceeded with caution.
He gestured to the bedroom, so he was obviously planning on dispensing with the charade that this was something that was going to happen organically over a drink, some coy looks, and flirtatious banter. After I saw the living room, I don't know why I was surprised by the bedroom, but I was. He had a bed with no headboard, a fitted sheet, no top sheet, no comforter, a fleece blanket, one pillow, and no other furniture.
I should have turned and walked out right then, but our first date was so good, and the kiss at the end was so sweet. So I let it progress, and we started making out.
I should say I started making out. He started trying to eat my face. His enthusiastic spirit was contagious though, and I will say I was actually super into until he whispered into my ear, "Do you like to be bit?"
Uh...do I like to be bit? Like for real? This is actually happening to me? He has to mean like ear lobe and neck nibbling, right? Yes, of course that's what he means. People don't just go around biting other people. I could get down with some earlobe action though. Yeah, that sounds kind of nice!
I got as far as, "Yeah, sur..." and he clamped down on my shoulder.
He bit me!
On my shoulder!
I was so shocked by the whole thing that I didn't really know what to do. I let out a surprised exclamation, and shook him off, but he seemed to think it was part of the game, and it happened three more times before I shut it down. I told him that I was super tired, and asked if he'd be willing to call me a cab back to the hotel I was staying at. He insisted that I just spend the night. I pointed out that he didn't have a pillow for me, and he offered me his arm. So I made him promise not to try to eat me while I slept on his bony arm, and I took the entire blanket for myself.
The next morning I had planned on excusing myself to go to the bathroom, and slipping out to figure out my own damn way back to the hotel, but I remembered that I had a dead cell phone, and it was -20 billion degrees outside. So instead I just stood in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror for about ten minutes having one of those, "Look at your life, look at your choices moments."
And you're definitely not gonna get breakfast.
I woke him up and told him I needed a ride, we sat for 10 uncomfortable minutes while his car warmed up, he delivered me safely back to my friends, and I haven't spoken to him since.
I did think of him quite a bit in the following week though...mostly during those times when I was wincing as I put my jacket on my still tender shoulders.
Lessons learned?
-I'm apparently not suited for hooking up with near strangers that I meet in bars.
-I need to stop romanticizing people to the point that I start to disregard big ol' glaring warning signs.
-Don't send out text messages at 3 in the morning to your friends saying you're going home with some guy, and if they don't hear from you by 8, then you're probably murdered if you don't have a plan to charge your phone before then.
-I'm not into getting bit.
 |
| You live, you learn... |
I'd feel bad if I left everyone thinking this guy was a total weirdo, cannibal, murderer, so let's imagine for a second that he's telling this story to his friends.
"So I met this guy online who seemed super cool, we had a lot in common, even if he is too into Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I drove an hour and a half to take the guy out to dinner, everything went super great, and then I didn't hear from the f#%!er for three months when I see him all wasted at a bar. He runs up to me and starts making out with me within like ten minutes. I figured I'd give him another shot, so I took him back home with me. He didn't shut up the entire time we were in the cab, and then when we got back to my place he acted like I was a psycho just because I didn't have a f#%!ing couch. Just as things were getting kinda hot and heavy he shuts down and acts all offended just because I did something that I asked him permission for. Then he woke me up at 7:30am, and made me drive him back to his hotel."
What a f#%!ing dick.
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