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.

My Very Worst Date didn’t actually seem absolutely bad until after the fact – but it certainly didn’t go that well.  I met a guy at a bar in college and we really hit it off.  I gave him my number and he called me later that week asking me to dinner.

He informed me that though his real name was Justin, he actually preferred to be called “Lucky” since he was redheaded and Irish.  Also this was his “club” name that everyone else knew him by.    I thought it was a little silly for someone who was 24 years old but I shrugged it off.  He then proceeded to tell me about how much he loved techno and how the only thing he looked forward to all year was going to Burning Man.  He wasn’t in school and was working in catering.  He quickly rebounded this by stating that he had been doing bigger and better things elsewhere, but had returned to the small town because his mother was suffering from breast cancer.  He said he had to spend a lot of his time taking her to doctor’s appointments and helping her out around the house.  I thought it was admirable he had made such sacrifices for his family.

After dinner he suggested going to my place since he lived with his mom and didn’t have a car.  I reluctantly agreed and we popped in a movie.  He didn’t waste any time with his advances as he was obviously not interested in the movie.  He kissed me and did the much dreaded tongue to the back of my throat.  After that I knew for certain I did not have an interest in this guy.

As it got later and the movie ended, Lucky asked if he could spend the night.  I gave him the sideways glance and he told me he really didn’t want to try anything and that he had work early in the morning.  For whatever reason I agreed and we both awkwardly slept in the same bed.   Of course, he tried something from time to time, but strangely enough, this little orphan kitten I had taken in a few days prior kept him from making his move.  Every time he tried something the kitten would playfully jump on his head and simply not leave him alone.

The next morning I woke up to him calling his work to say that he wouldn’t be coming in because he felt unwell.  He then gave me the eye and I told him I thought it was time for him to leave.  He did so a little bitterly and neither one of us called the other again.

A few weeks later my friend met his younger brother at a bar and, having heard my stories, asked how his mother was doing.  He looked at her baffled, saying that she was fine and wondered why she had asked.  She told him she had heard she’d been diagnosed with cancer – and to our horror, he revealed their mother never had cancer.  Lucky had moved back home because he ran out of money and needed a place to stay.

My Very Worst Date happened my sophomore year of high school. I had pushed the memory so far into the back of my mind that I forgot about it all these years until reading enough stories on this site for the pain and humiliation to all come flooding back.

I was in a long term relationship with my boyfriend-at-the-time M, who I had known for about 3 years (and dated 2 years), and he was riding buses all the way from California to come see me in Texas. It seemed almost perfect and unreal, as I thought we’d never see each other again. He was coming down for a few days on his two week Christmas break, and was going to stay at my house. Now, if you’re wondering how my mother felt about a 17-going-on-18 year old boy staying with her barely-turned 15 year old daughter, well she was DELIGHTED. My mom, being a heavy drinker and party go-er at the time, seemed more excited than I was, and was willing to take us out to a fancy dinner, and pay for our food (because he spent all his money on his bus tickets). I thought this was some kind of Christmas miracle. I wasn’t more wrong about something in my entire life.

The first night he came over my mom delayed our plans to day 2 because she was at some club somewhere too smashed to drive us anywhere, and wasn’t coming home. We were a bit nervous, seeing as he only had 3 days including the day he came and the day he would leave which was to be in the mid afternoon. So we stayed home, messed around, and had fun, and couldn’t wait for the next day.

The next night my mom called and told us to dress nicely as we were about to leave to dinner. I wore a tight, thinly-clothed dress shirt, with some skinny jeans (I didn’t have anything nicer), while he wore a Devil Wears Prada shirt with some baggy jeans (he didn’t bring anything nicer), but I really didn’t care how he dressed, and thought nothing of it. About 4 hours late, my mom arrived, and we were soon driven out of the city, and into the middle of nowhere at about 9 o’clock at night. We had been driving for about 45 minutes and already I was sweating in anticipation for what mysterious, horrible night could come of this. I was not prepared for what was to be my very worst date with my very best boyfriend.

We finally arrived at what looked to be an abandoned shack in the middle of an abandoned parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Loud music was playing from inside and there were drunk people waddling in and out of the bar. Before I could even ask or beg my mom to drive us back, she turned to us and smiled “Here we are! I know all of the bartenders here, and since no cops know about this place, you two can get wasted all you like! Just remember, if you want to get busy though, you’ll have to come ask me for my car keys ‘cause I don’t want no one watchin’ ya’ll inside.” I was amazed, and astounded by those words alone. She then proceeded to warn us about talking to the people inside because most of them were ex convicts, registered sex offenders, junkies, or drug dealers. M and I were drug and alcohol free, abstinent teens trapped in the middle of nowhere with a bar full of psychos- and my mom. Could it have possibly gotten any worse?

It was about 10 o’clock at night, and the weather outside was in the low twenties. We didn’t have our jackets, and we were too afraid to go inside the bar. The only light outside was a light hanging above the door that only lighted a small circle on the pavement where we sat, being startled by anyone coming in or out. I was crying and I’m pretty sure he was too, but it was hard to tell seeing as our tears froze to our cheeks. We decided freezing to death huddled under a light bulb wasn’t how we wanted it to end, so around 12 in morning we decided to take our equally dangerous chances inside.

The temperature change was enough to instantly kill someone or put them in shock. From below twenty and rapidly decreasing weather outside, we walked into an oven fueled by cigarette smoke alone. It was probably about 85-90 degrees in that shithole of a bar. To make matters worse, we found out why the music was so, so awful. It was karaoke night! We made our way to a secluded corner, and sat on some old, rickety bar stools. We tried to talk, but we couldn’t even understand what we were saying much less see each other through all the smoke. Never having smoked before, we were both coughing our lungs out, all while trying to push off drunk people who thought we were so “hip” and “young looking”.

After being hit on, and almost dragged into a few drunken fights, my mom swayed over, and can you believe it, her already slutty tank top’s straps had been cut off and her shirt was pulled over her stomach only covering her boobs which didn’t hide much because her bra was missing (did I mention my mom is like over 300 pounds?). She told us how happy she was we came inside to hear her sing next (my heart plummeted even lower) and she ran onto the stage and sang. When I say she sang I really mean she screamed, literally screamed, the lyrics to Santeria by Sublime. I give her credit for remembering the lyrics, but even M cracked a smile at her dreaded performance. We decided to take our chances outside. Again. Because she was that bad, and I was about to strangle myself just to get out of this nightmare quicker.

It was about 2 am, and I prayed that if God had mercy on our souls, he would send someone down to rescue us. M knew I was humiliated, and tried to cheer me up by showing me some of the cool, underground music he listened to in CA. After a few songs, my body had become completely numb, and the cold was no longer a problem to the both of us. Just as I began to drift off leaning on his shoulder we were both shoved face first into the pavement- breaking his brand new video ipod and headphones completely. What happened? Two drunk bitches who had both been proposed too (I wonder who the lucky guys were) had been too drunk to walk and had fallen over us. An apology? Even a “F*** you” would have been great. No.. for the next hour and a half, these two women went on and told us their fabulous stories of their fiancées and how they cheat on them every so often and how one of them had just had sex with some junkie in the bathroom. When their rides FINALLY came, one of them wanted to show M their ring one last time – and punched him right in the nose by accident. They were helped by some guys who laughed at us and mocked us. I held M’s shattered-screened ipod, and he wiped his bloody nose on his shirt (which I later found out was also new). We went back inside.

We sat in misery in the corner again. No one even asked him why he had blood all over his face and shirt, or why I was sitting their shaking like a mad person. Finally, after sitting around for 2 hours (yes, it was past 5 IN THE FREAKING MORNING) I found my mom, and this is where my real story starts. She could barely stand and had been using the crowd of people as means of standing up. She FELL onto my boyfriend’s lap. She was able to drag herself up, and I cannot describe to you the horror on his face nor mine when she started KISSING HIS NECK. He shoved her away, but (did I mention she was like over 300 pounds?) she was too big for him and just kept pushing on. As soon as I grabbed her she stood up and lifted her shirt exposing her boobs. She leaned on him again and asked him if he’d like to take a visit to the restroom with her. I screamed at the top of my lungs, which startled her and caused her to fall backwards. Me and M got the hell out of there!!

Back outside I was raving and ranting about how pissed I was, and how she was my own mother and hit on my boyfriend and what-not. M actually thought it was kind of funny, and still tried to cheer me up. We did manage to have a little bit of fun by kicking an empty Gatorade bottle back and forth until I accidentally kicked it on top of the roof.

Finally, at about 6:30 am my mom was all partied out. As we swerved back home she gloated the whole way how happy she was I was being fucked (yes she really did say that) by such a nice, cute guy. When we got back she told us how she almost scored with a hot guy until some bitch came and screamed at her and ruined it. I’m pretty sure she was unknowingly talking about us.

The next day, she had no memory of what happened and didn’t believe a word we told her, and laughed it off as some prank. Me and M dated for a whole year after that until long distance became too stressful, and we separated. We’ve joked around about it since then (up until I forgot about it) and now he’s back in Texas and we are the best of friends. Oh, and he’s  gay now.

I was in my senior year in high school.  Prom was coming up, which is a very big deal when you’re a 17-year -old girl. It all started a couple months prior, when I had drunkenly and stupidly hooked up with an acquaintance, ‘M’ after a party. That was my first bad move.  Fast forward a few weeks later, when at a county  fair with friends… a boy that I had known and long  had a crush on, ‘J’ (and was rumored that he was  going to invite me to prom), who was part of our ‘group’, found out that I had gotten together with ‘M’,  which completely disgusted him and  squashed all plans of him taking me to prom. Before all this went down, I had heard from a number of friends that ‘J’ was going to ask me out, and I was so confident that he was going to be my prom date that  I had not ‘shopped’ around for a backup date ‘just in case’.

Well here it is, two weeks before prom. I am desperate, so my friend sets me up to go with her boyfriend’s friend. Well that didn’t last more than a few days before his mommy found out and refused to let a freshman go to prom with a senior! Haha.

So now it’s a week before prom, I am even more desperate, so one night when my bff and I were out having dinner at Denny’s, she sets me up on a date with our waiter there, ‘P’. The next day he and I  go out, and it was horrendous to say the least . He was NOT my type at all, he was freakishly tall and awkward looking, gangly, nerdy, and we had NOTHING in common. He was well aware I need a prom date (thanks to my bff and her big mouth), so he agreed to take me, even though he is in his early 20’s AND basically a stranger!!

Over the next few days we go on some more dates, which just go from bad to worse as he was 100% set to make out with me and get me into bed, which I had NO interest in doing. Need I remind you, I JUST needed a date for prom night!! Nothing more, nothing less.

So come prom night, it was very uncomfortable to say the least to have sit with ‘P’ at the table all alone all night while my friends had the time of their lives and danced the night away with their true loves. So after it was over, our group had rented a room in the hotel so we could party there the rest of the night and crash. Well at some point, ‘J’ showed up to the room, much to my surprise. Evidentially in my drunken state I did not hide the fact ( & in front of ‘P’) that I still had the hots for ‘J’ .  ‘J’ had shown up because he had a change of heart and wanted to be with me. I don’t think any of this made ‘P’ very happy. Well, we all ended up passing out that night, only to wake up to find ‘P’ gone, ALL of our wallets missing, and our car keys thrown over the balcony into the bushes below. Guess it kinda served me right for being an a$$ and using him in the first place. Never saw or heard from him since. Worst date ever.

My Very Worst Date was with I guy I had been with for a few months. Let’s call him Andrew. We met through training seminars that we had regularly at work, and although he lived a few hours away, we got to see each other at weekends and we chatted on the phone a lot.

I bought a ticket to a concert in his city that I was dying to go see. I asked if he wanted to go, but he had his friend’s birthday dinner that night and besides, he wasn’t familiar with the band. We agreed that I’d stay at his place for the weekend and on the we’d get together after the concert.

The weekend came and the concert was amazing, then I sent him a text to let him know I’d meet him at the restaurant. Timing was perfect as they were just finishing up dinner and getting ready to leave. Some of the people at this dinner were also good friends of mine so we all decided to go out. Andrew was really desperate to go to a gay bar. The two of us were the only gay people in the group, and I myself am not really a fan, but it was the closest place so we followed him.

The bar turned out to be quite nice. I was catching up with the people who were at the dinner when I saw Andrew talking to another guy, that we’ll call Bruce, as if they were old friends. I went up to Andrew and he introduced me to him. Bruce was nice and we chatted for a little while, but I still didn’t really know who this guy was. Andrew took me to one side and said “Look how flirtatious he’s being! I think he likes me!” I laughed a little and said he should tell Bruce who I was.

I started to feel a little uncomfortable about how much time Bruce was spending with Andrew, but I trusted him and continued chatting with our friends. Andrew storms over to me and says, in front of everyone, “So, on a scale of one to mad, how mad would you be if I kissed him?” I would have thought my death-glare would have given him some idea, but he repeatedly asked me and the opinion of my friends. The friends, understandably weirded out, all left and I was left watching the guy I had came in with all over someone else. It soon became clear that Bruce was in fact a total stranger whom he had just met.

Bear in mind, I was staying at his place and had nowhere else to go. I asked for Andrew’s key so I could go to bed. Andrew threw a hissy fit about how he wanted to stay and how he wanted me to be there at the club. He thought it was really funny and cute that I was mad and again, kept asking how mad I was “on a scale of one to mad.” I told him that I wasn’t going to stay, so I took his key and went back to his place to sleep. When I woke up I started to gather my stuff together to get the hell out of Andrew’s house. He woke up beside me and asked why I was leaving. I told him he must have been really stupid if he didn’t know why and I had to spell it out to him. “Oh… that…,” he said.

He told me nothing happened once I left and just stood around alone for a while, and that he felt so bad afterwards and blamed it on the alcohol. I was still pretty mad, but I said I would take some time to think about us. Taking this as forgiveness (?), he did an about-turn and said “Well, actually, I went back into the club to find Bruce to make out with him.”

The saddest part is he genuinely thought I would have been OK with this and he believed he didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t understand how I felt humiliated in front of our friends, how much of a scene he caused or how he ruined my and other people’s evenings.

Unfortunately, we had to see each other repeatedly because of our mutual friends as well as work. He made me feel uncomfortable when we did meet because he would ask my friends why I was being off with him and putting everybody in an awkward position. I began to realise how lucky I was because he became very emotionally unstable at times and developed a real Jekyll/Hyde personality.

Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served cold. I suffered months of having him undermine me, but the last straw was when I heard him brag about his big promotion with double the salary. I built up a dossier of all the misdeeds he told me about while we were together and ones that I discovered afterwards, and sent it to his superiors.

Let’s just say he has a lot more free time now to spend hanging round bars.

I went on a double date that was also a blind date for me. My friend Michelle said the guy Dave was really cute and in the military so I was pretty excited. We went to a bar the guys had rented out just for us. But since the drinks were on the house, I got very drunk. I didn’t like the guy I was set up with because he got jealous and clingy when a male friend called me. So I started talking to the “5th wheel” Jeff and we really hit it off. We went back to Michelle’s boyfriend’s apartment to hang out. While there, I told Jeff that Dave was really creeping me out and he took things into his own hands. He told Dave to go upstairs and try to sober up some and I would be up there soon. After a while, Jeff told Dave to come downstairs, and he and I went upstairs.

I made a bad decision and started hooking up with Jeff. While we were at it, Dave comes in the room and says he lost his pen (so believable). He leaves and goes to drag Michelle’s boyfriend outside and they leave. So Dave calls Michelle and keeps telling her that I’m a slut and I really really hurt him, which is understandable. Jeff insists that we go try to find them and we drive around the city looking at every place possible. Eventually we give up and go back to Michelle’s boyfriend’s apartment. Jeff lost his cell phone and got pissed cause Dave wouldn’t answer his. He punched a hole in the wall of the apartment!

By the end of the night, I was called a slut, had horrible sex, was responsible for the hole in the wall and the break up of best friends! I blame the free booze and the fact that Dave was very very creepy.

One Friday night, I planned on staying in which is really really hard for me to do, but I was supposed to be doing a nine hour spinning instructor course on Saturday. I was, however, easily convinced to go to dinner and a few “early” drinks with my friend, Crazy Dancer. Well, this obviously turned into having dinner and wine at the bar at a classy establishment and chatting up Sexy Bartender. Slowly everyone in the restaurant finishes their meals and departs leaving myself, Crazy Dancer, and Sexy Bartender tipping back too much free wine and getting to know one another. Turns out that he’s an infant at twenty years of age (I’m 26) and his family owns the restraurant. He’s a junior in college…precious really. He’s quite smart and interesting and we’re all getting along fabulously.

Long story short, Crazy Dancer departs, Sexy Bartender and I get handsy, and I’ll partake in a one-night stand here and there, so take him home to get it on. Things were going okay (I mean, as well as they can go when fooling around with a drunk 20-year-old). Sooooo apparently when balls deep, Sexy Bartender likes to talk dirty, and he likes that dirty talk to come out in an Irish accent. Please keep in mind that this fellow is NOT Irish. I wish I could tell you that I laughed in his face or at least called him out on it, but I’m fairly certain that I just went with it. I guess I just wanted to see if there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow (there wasn’t).

This fellow was also really classy and left in the middle of the night. I’ve never been left before, so I Facebook stalked the shit out of him in the morning. Among the treasures I found were a photo album of him and a young lady entitled “Love,” a picture of roses from Valentine’s Day with the caption that says “Isn’t Sexy (Irish) Bartender the best???” and to top it all off, one of this lady’s INTERESTS was “I love Sexy (Irish) Bartender.” That doesn’t even make sense but hat’s how much she loves him.

But it all makes sense. Why he left me in the middle of the night, and even why he put on a brogue to tell me to BLANK his BLANK (you fill it in. It’s like sexy madlibs). It’s not cheating if you do it with an accent. Fact.

Oh, and by the way, I never made that spinning class. Luck of the f***ing Irish

It had been a few months since I had been dumped by what had been my longest relationship by that point, and I was finally just feeling good enough about myself to see about dating again. My last had been rather boring, so for a change of pace (and to follow an interest I’d had for a long while) I made a profile on a BDSM site. On there I met this guy I will call W….for “Warlock Wannabe McDouchebag.” We messaged each other for several weeks, and he seemed nice enough. We had many of the same interests and kinks and he wasn’t bad looking. After a few weeks we agreed to get together for a movie and a test of sorts to see if we were sexually compatible (working out what would be okay, not okay, etc.).

To begin with, W was late. Almost 30 minutes late, but I shrugged it off as he looked pretty hot with his long hair and leather trench coat. He was as tall as his profile said, but the pictures must have been a bit old as he was more than a bit fatter than they showed. Not one to dismiss someone for a little bit of extra weight (as I’m not super thin myself) we went in to see Clerks 2. I got my first clue that things would probably not work out when during the scene with the donkey (those that have seen it will know what I’m talking about), when he leaned over to wrap an arm around me to tease the end of my skirt and suggest lewd things to do with me in conjunction to what was happening on the screen. He did that for every donkey scene, including implying that he thought that I would be able to take a donkey if I tried. Yeah…not into bestiality, thanks.

We continued on, taking the bus to his place (since neither of us had a car) during which we talked to get to know each other more. The conversation started to go downhill, with him belittling me, playing jokes on me, threatening to stick his hand up my skirt/shirt on the bus (I firmly told him no public stuff even before we met up). I made the mistake of mentioning that I had lost a beloved cat before, which he immediately turned into a massively UN-funny joke. Oh, and joked about animal cruelty and said it was fine to be cruel to dogs since he was a “country boy.” I pretty much knew then that things weren’t going to work out, considering that I love animals and have worked with animals all my life. Why I didn’t just get off at the next stop and take another bus home, I don’t know.

We got to his place and immediately started making out. He proudly showed me his room, which was decorated in depictions of wolves, moons and pentagrams. He told me he was a practicing “High Warlock,” explaining to me condescendingly what Paganism was even after I told him I already knew. Some of the stuff he spouted was pretty laughable, being mystical crap from New Age “magic” books for teens. We proceeded to get down to it, and after some outlining what was not okay and some foreplay we had sex. The most disappointing (and “vanilla”) sex I have ever had. Guys…when it comes down to describing your penis size, estimating width is hard to do, though understandable. However when it comes to length, at least try to be accurate within an inch. Telling a girl three more inches than you actually have will just make you look really, really bad when the time comes. All told I’m not bad in bed, but I’m not exactly porn star quality either. This guy would not. Stop. Raving. Once was flattering. All the way to the bus stop was when I finally left was creepy.

He also told me before I got on the bus that he would be setting up charms so I would have sexy dreams of him that night, and cast a spell so he could combine our dreaming minds to join me. During the wait for the second bus to get home (he lived on the other side of the city from me) I fully realized just how bad that entire encounter had been. Taking a shower upon getting home never felt nicer. He messaged me that night, still raving about my “skills” and asking when we would hook up again. I told him it wouldn’t work out, it was a one time only thing, and I wasn’t interested in a second time. For the next two weeks he would message me and call me (I had given him my number in case we missed each other at the theater), alternately begging and confidently asking when we would be seeing each other again. After the first week I ignored him completely. After the second he finally sent me an angry message of how I was a bitch and thought I was “too good” for him, and I was to be sure that he would tell everyone on the BDSM site how much of a bitch I really was. I laughed, deleted my account (since I was tired of all the sleaze and had become too busy anyway) and never looked back.

Today, we’re joining the ranks of Broadcastr, the “social media platform for location-based stories” a.k.a YouTube for audio and Pandora of oral history on the internet. Read all about it at Broadcastr site and here.

This means we’ll accepting audio submissions. Our regular submission guidelines and conditions apply but there are two new things: you must keep your stories UNDER three minutes long, and you must tell us where the (city) date occured so we can “pin” on Broadcastr’s GPS map.

To celebrate our new audio adventure, we’ll be airing four new audio stories on our site and playing some goldies oldies from the archive.

The first one’s coming soon!

J and I had met through a mutual friend who he was visiting in New York over the summer. We got along instantly and went on a date before he left town. He was spending the rest of the summer back home in Kansas before going back to school in Tennessee. I know that long distance was a stupid way to start, but I was young and naive and thought we could work. There was a lot of emailing and IM’ing throughout the summer and one night he asked me to fly out to see him over Labor Day weekend. I had plans to see friends in San Francisco, but really wanted to see J so I changed my plans and flew out to Tennessee instead.

Our first night was great, it was like we had never been apart. There was drinks, catching up and fooling around. Now, when I flew out there, I was still a virgin and J knew that. After that night, everything was going so well and seemed so positive, so I told him I wanted to sleep with him. And we did. After that I definitely fell into the whole mirage that many girls do after being with their first. We were cuddling and talking after and I thought all was well. We spent the afternoon with his friends, but things just went from bad to worse. He was initially quiet and said he was tired. Then he started to pull away from me completely, would not be next to me and was pretty much stand offish. I tried to ask what was wrong, but he brushed it off as tiredness again. That night, we went to bed and he wanted nothing to do with me so I knew something was up.

The next morning, I finally just confronted him and told him that it was obviously not tiredness and asked him what was wrong. He looked me straight in the eyes and goes, “This isn’t gonna work out.” He said that while we were cuddling, I mentioned my brother and how maybe J might get to meet him and it freaked him out. He never saw anything serious between us (but was completely okay with taking my virginity) and that this was over now. Hurt and confused I started crying and called one of my best friends in tears. He leaves me in living room as he doesn’t know how to deal with it and then emerged from his room like 15 minutes later and asked me to wrap up the conversation.

He tells me that I need to leave the apartment because it will make his roommate uncomfortable if I’m there and he found me a hotel near the airport for the night. It was Sunday at 3pm and my flight wasn’t till Monday afternoon. He dropped me off at the Days Inn and paid for my hotel (only cause I made him) and left me to find my way to the airport alone.