Fast Track To Nowhere
As most MVWD’s go, I met A through a popular dating site. I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, first-year university student who was relatively sheltered and very naïve as a result. After a few messages back and forth, I decided to meet A in person and agreed on a meeting spot near his house. The plan was to meet then decide on an ultimate destination for drinks from there.
When I arrived at the agreed-upon meeting place however, A asked could we simply have drinks at the bar under his condo building. I couldn’t think of any reason why not, so followed him inside the cozy bar. Inside we made small talk over the course of a couple drinks. Though he seemed unimpressive, A seemed a decent and polite guy overall and I was open-minded. I found it uncomfortable and bizarre though when during the course of conversation he asked if I was a virgin. Intimidated, I casually lied ‘no,’ to which he replied ‘oh good.’ By this point I was a little tipsy from the drinks so when A later invited me up to his place for a movie, I agreed.
A refused to turn on any lights in his apartment but the hallway light streaming through the open door as we entered revealed a tidy and elegantly-decorated place. The reason for A’s whispering became immediately clear though when he pointed out the door to his mother’s room down the hall. Since his mother was sleeping, rather than watch the movie in the living room as I had anticipated, A led me to his own bedroom.
While he launched himself onto the nearest side of his bed, I was faced with the daunting task of either climbing over A to reach the other side of the bed, or scaling the pile of dirty laundry nearly as tall as myself. Hesitantly, I opted for the former and propped myself up on the other side of A, facing the small tv screen at the side of his bed. Without inviting any input from me, A slid in ‘his favourite movie,’ a black-and-white martial arts movie. Whatever, I thought. I’ll stay a little longer just to be polite, then make the excuse I have to head home for an early morning.
The credits were still rolling when A made his intentions clear. Feeling pressured and a little looser from the alcohol, I played along for a few moments but panicked as he continued to escalate his advances. Mumbling some excuse, I abruptly sat up and made my way across the bed towards the door. A blocked my exit, but I bolted past him, over his dirty laundry, and out his bedroom. He was right on my heels, pants down, begging me to stay, me stumbling over excuses as to my sudden departure as I tried to outrun him down the stairwell and outside the building. Finally I burst through the main floor door to outside, leaving A behind – still with his pants down, fully exposed.
After taking a few moments to compose myself in my (locked) car, I took off. My naïve brain was slow to process but I finally put the pieces of the puzzle together and realised this man, at nearly 30, had not yet left home, had no car and no license, no ambitious career, and no post-secondary education.
The icing on the cake is when a year later I mistakenly dialed A’s number when I intended to call a friend by the same name. When he answered I did not immediately recognize his voice and indicated I must have the wrong number. He asked who I was so I politely provided my first name. It finally dawned on me who he was when his dopey-voiced response was ‘oh, well do you want to hook up?’ It was clear he had no idea who I was. I immediately hung up and deleted his number. I still laugh at how this momma’s boy set me up and how naïve and dumb I was to fall for it all.
