Mike the Knife
A few years ago I met this guy online, we’ll call him “Mike.” Mike and I had been talking for about two years online and on the phone before we met and he showed no signs of weirdness. We finally decided to meet up at my local mall. The second I saw him walk up I immediately wanted out. He was probably the palest, skinniest person I had ever seen and he was wearing a black trench coat in July and black platform boots. He said he was 6 feet tall, but I’m only 5’8″ and he still wasn’t taller than me, even with those horrid boots. After we walked around for awhile, he walked up to a mirror that was on the wall, took out a 4″ knife and started shaving his face with it.
We continue our stroll and he decided it was appropriate to grab me by the shoulders and lick my cheek. I have no idea what was going on in his head that made him think it was okay to do that. Then he said he was hungry, so he got a pretzel and we sat down at a table. While he was eating he grabbed my hands and got butter and pretzel salt all over them. Finally, I suggested a movie. It was a definite “boy” movie, with lots of action and guns and I figured I could slip out during it and get the hell out of there. While we were watching the previews I felt something on my chest. I looked down and he was grabbing my left boob. It’s not like we were making out or something, we were just sitting there! I pushed him away and excused myself to the restroom and never went back. I’m just glad I made it out alive.
