Nightmare Date

My cousin set me up on a double date with his friend Bob. It was fun, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is what happened after. As Bob walked away after escorting me to my car, he quickly turned around and said, “I’ll give you my number so you can text me. I need to make sure you get home ok.” (Smooth. He just wanted my number.) I got my phone out. He grabbed it from me and put the number in himself. (Weird) I shrugged it off and texted him when I got home. It had begun.

 

Bob: “I’m so glad you are safe. I wanted to drive around with you after (your cousin) left but I knew it was late. I feel so bad that you had to drive on your own and meet us at (your cousin’s) house.” <--Note how bad he feels about not picking me up.

Me: “It’s ok. I live far and out of the way.”

Bob: “You would have made the drive very pleasant.” <--Dang. He wasn’t hiding it at all.

Me: (after some flirty texts) “I’m giving you a chance.” <--Big mistake!

The next day, Saturday, I spent the whole day goofing off doing crap, not thinking about Bob at all. I was getting ready for bed, when suddenly;

*beep*

It was a text from Bob.

Bob: “I thought you were going to text me today :(“ <--Whiner, much?

For a reason I will never know, it made me feel guilty. From then on, I answered every text he sent. I even sent one Sunday morning saying, “I’m sending you a text so you can’t say I’m ignoring you.” The texting never ended. Shamelessly, I admit I was blinded by flattery. It turned me into a stupid, stupid girl. Why was I stupid? Read on.

Me: (late Sunday night) “I gotta go to bed because I’m snowboarding with (my cousin) and the fam at 7am tomorrow.”

7:01am, as I’m getting ready:

*beep*

Bob: “Good morning, Katie.” <--Yes. He waited until the exact moment he knew I’d be awake.

Me: “Hey I’m just getting ready.”

Bob: “Send me a picture.” <--After one date? Come on, dude.

Me: “Ok.” <--See. I’m stupid. I didn’t know how to say no.

Five minutes later…

Bob: “I thought you were going to send me a picture?”

Me: “How can I? I’m not on the mountain yet.”

Bob: “I thought you were going to send me a mirror shot lol” <--Holy creeper!

Mirror shot? Really? That’s just wrong. I explained to him that mirror shots are boring, cliché, have bad lighting and I would never send that kind of picture. I sent him a group picture after I got back from boarding. He didn’t mention the picture in his reply. He was probably disappointed that it had other people in it and that I was in all my gear.

The next few days consisted of this:

“What are you doing?” “When do you leave for school?” “Tell me when you get to school.” “What classes are you taking?” “What is your professor talking about?” “Where are you eating lunch?” “What are you eating?” “Do you like what you’re eating?” “When does your next class start?” “Do like your professor?” “Who do you sit by?” “What are you talking about with other people?” “When do you go to work?” “Tell me when you get to work.” “Tell me when you leave work.” “Tell me when you get home.” “What are you doing tonight?” “I like that you like to read.” “I think it’s so great that you know that stuff about pictures.” “I’m trying to impress you.” “I don’t want you going places without me.” “I won’t let you go to (a park) without me.” “Tell your guy friend you met someone.” “When are you going to bed?” “Tell me when you are getting ready for bed.” And on, and on, and on.

I should have realized that Bob was basically text-stalking me. AND he was forbidding me to do things without him. Red flags! But I was, as I said, blinded by flattery. He knew my whole schedule from when I woke to when I hit the pillow. (Man, I’m stupid!) At some point, a second date was arranged for Wednesday. I was so excited that a guy was paying attention to me that I didn’t even question his text:

Bob: “So I thought we’d watch a movie and cuddle and stuff.” <--This is only the second date. Trying to move too fast, dude.

Sure, I said. Anything! Hearts in my eyes! I loved the attention.

On Wednesday, he was supposed to pick me up at 8PM. It was changed to 9PM because he was studying for a test. Constant texting ensued. He must not have been studying very hard.

Nine o’clock rolled around:

Bob: “Would it be rude if you drove yourself there (the theater) to meet me?” <--Remember when he gushed how he felt so bad that he didn’t pick me up on the first date?

I wondered if Bob did that to avoid meeting my dad. I started having a sick feeling in my stomach; I was already uncomfortable. Did I listen to my guts? Nope. I drove.

When he finally showed up to the theater, I noticed a powerful musk; he was wearing a lot of cologne. (I don’t like cologne.) At the ticket kiosk, he had me pick from two movies he wanted to see, neither of which I knew anything about. As we stood printing the tickets, I noticed another smell. This one was permeating from his mouth. He clearly had not brushed his teeth. I almost gagged. That was a deal breaker. I knew it was over before it even began.

Bob knew I was at my Karate class earlier. He asked me what I did. “Oh, I was just breaking boards with my hand.” That should have sufficed in letting him know not to mess with me. He smiled, “Oooo! So you’re dangerous. I like that.” <--Not sure what he was thinking there. I don’t really want to know.

As we walked toward our theater number, Bob was lagging behind me about five feet distant. I kept turning around, waiting for him to catch up; that just made him walk slower. Apparently it was so I could “lead the way.” The seats he had chosen were isolated from other people and on the back row. For a horrifying moment, I remembered that he wanted to snuggle. I sat with my arms and legs crossed. <--No snuggling allowed position.

It was a terrible, raunchy movie. Bob knew that. Why did he make it a choice? He laughed at every crude joke while I sat in silence. He must have noticed. To his credit, he did ask if I wanted to leave after a particular gross scene involving Cheetos. I should have walked out right then but I felt like I had to stay because he paid for it. I’m never making that mistake again.

As I pondered about his questionable character, yet another smell appeared. I knew it was Bob because no one else was sitting within twenty feet of us. It started out faint, and then grew into a monstrous cloud I dared not inhale.

You know what I’m talking about. 

I held my breath, my eyes almost tearing up. I couldn’t believe he didn’t hold it in. Did he think his cologne could mask it? Suddenly, I knew why he was walking so far behind me on the way in. He must have left a path of stink the whole length of the theater. All those poor people had to suffer just as I was now. 

When the movie ended, I just wanted to go home and forget this date ever happened. Nope. He wanted to take me on that drive he had talked about. “Fine,” I thought, “What could he possibly do now?”

To the all night Mexican drive-through we go!

Bob: “Do you want anything?”

Me: “No, thank you.” ßI already ate, and he knew that.

Bob: “Don’t you dare give me that no thank you!” <--No doesn’t mean no to him.

Bob ordered a whole lot of nasty-looking things with fake cheese, and gave me some rice milk that I didn’t want. He parked his car in a dark parking lot. As he bit into a burrito, orange ooze dripping from his mouth, he stated, “I want to know everything about you.” I was too repulsed to say anything but, “Um… what do you want to know?” That was when the personal, completely inappropriate-for-a-second-date questions started:

Bob: (examples)

“What is your greatest fear? How often do you think about it?” <--Why not ask my favorite color, dude?

“Who are you closest to? What would you do if they died?” <--Are you planning a murder or something?

“What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you?” <-- O_____O  I don’t even want to know why he wanted to know this.

Me: (After honestly giving him dishonest answers, though none were actually a lie.) “What about you? What do you like to do?”

Bob: “This. Getting to know you. Learning about you.” (Then he’d redirect the question back to me.)

After too long of that terribly uncomfortable segment of the date, Bob finally decided to talk about himself. It was a sob story of how his best friend “betrayed” him by “not doing everything with me anymore. He has a girlfriend.” His friend got a life and he was upset by that. But that wasn’t even the worst:

Bob: (He’s studying to become an engineer.) “I’m pretty smart, you know. My professors never know when I cheat. When the calculation says it should be designed at 5, I just put something at 4.5. I know it’s there, but they don’t! haha!”

That was just horrifying: An engineer student cheating. That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard. There’s a saying that says, “Dear engineering students, if you cheat now, you WILL kill people later. Please, learn the material or change your major.” I couldn’t stop thinking about this as he showed me his mathematical cheat-drawing that made him late. He didn’t even turn it in. If he was trying to impress me with his skills at lying, he failed miserably. I was trying to think of a way to get away without coming off as a complete jerk, when:

Bob: “The sad part about tonight is that it has to end right now. I need to go home and think about what to do about my drawing.” <-- Always on his terms.

Bob drove back to where my car was. I was being a good young lady so far, letting him open the doors for me. Not anymore. I opened my own door. I hoped that would give him the hint that I was not happy with him. He candidly walked over to a lookout area that was part of the parking structure. He just stood there leaning on the rail, staring at me. If he thought I’d come over and have some kind of Casablanca moment, he was mistaken. Then again, he probably just needed to release more of his stink.

As I was turning the keys to get in my car, Bob hurried over and gave me a big hug, saying, “I had a blast tonight.” I just said, “Thanks.” and left. I did not want to see him ever again. I decided I wasn’t going to contact him. If he didn’t get the message, I’d let him know.

The next Wendesday:

*beep*

Bob: “Hope you’re doing well, been a long time”

Me: (six hours later) “I was uncomfortable the whole night. It’s not going to work between us.”

Bob: “why were you uncomfortable haha” <--Ignoring that I was clearly saying bye forever.

Bob:  (much later) “You ok?” <--Didn’t get it that I wasn’t responding because I didn’t want to.

I never responded again, and I never will. I call it “Project Ignore.”

[Update] As of yesterday, March 18, 2012, Bob still texted me, "so what happen?" He will never know.