I'm taking a page from the book of @ameline and showing off my bum. I think that's the best butt selfie I've ever taken. (But mine can not at all compare to her positively perfect posterior.) Look, you can see my birthmark!
Anyway...this blog's a long one, but I promise it's good. If you're pressed for time I left a TL;DR at the bottom.
Gather round children and let me tell you a tale of creepiness and fuckery the likes of which you've never heard before...Okay, you've probably heard creepier stories, but still let me regale you with mine.
It all starts, innocently enough, about a year and a half ago. A guy liked a comment I made on a mutual friends post. Witty banter was exchanged and we soon became Facebook friends. At the time, I was in a very committed relationship, but this new friend of mine never seemed to make a pass at me so I thought we were just that: internet buddies. After I broke it off with the fellow I was seeing I was quite lonely, as I didn't have many friends here in Charlotte yet. Soon, this new friend and I were not only chatting on FB, but on Skype as well.
Fast forward to late last month...My parents inform me that they're going to Florida for Thanksgiving to to visit with some of my step dads family. Mom said she tried to get a space at the camp ground they like so that they could bring the camper and thus bring the dogs and me. Unfortunately, they weren't able to. So guess what I'm doing right now? That's right. Sitting in my jammies all by my lonesome in my house as I type this to you.
To avoid being alone I invited this aforementioned friend. We had been talking steadily for the past year and half or so and I grew to care very much about this person as a friend. We had great camaraderie and rapport. He made me laugh. I made him laugh. We had intense intellectual discourse. You see, he's a writer and incredibly smart. Flawed, but smart. I felt that, even though he was in Chicago and I was here, that we had gotten to know each other quite well. He was there for me when I was having depressive episodes. I was there for him when he would relapse, as he's an alcoholic.
I knew that he liked me, but when we would talk I made sure to say that I didn't want to pursue anything with him romantically as he and I hadn't met in person yet. I'm just not the impetuous and capricious person I was in my youth. Gone are the days of starting romantic relationships online before I even meet the person. I didn't discount the notion of us getting together if there was romantic chemistry between us, but I wouldn't be able to know that without first meeting him. I made this explicitly clear to him.
So he decides to come here. He's excited. I'm excited.
But within the last few weeks I met someone. I didn't plan on meeting anyone, but you never plan on those things. (More about that later.)
Fast forward to yesterday. I brave the clusterfuck that is pre-Thanksgiving airport traffic to pick him up.
When he got in my car I knew something was up. He reeked of booze. Now, I mentioned that he's an alcoholic who's desperately trying to stay sober. I vowed that I would help him stay sober while he was here. But I couldn't do that if he was drinking at O'Hare and again on the plane, which only takes and hour and forty minutes or so.
He gets in the car and almost immediately starts talking about hooking up. He was so incredibly cocksure that the stars had finally aligned and he was going to get laid for the first time in years.
I shut that down fast. I reiterated that I wanted to be friends, that sex wouldn't happen. When he kept pushing the issue I lied and said I had the most raging yeast infection that ever was. That the space between my legs might as well been a bakery. He said that didn't bother him in the slightest. Ahem. Did you even take the time to consider my feelings?
(On a slightly off note: I hate how some dudes just can't take no for answer and that I have to lie in the first place. Seriously, why isn't a simple 'no' good enough? Anyway, I digress...)
I keep changing the subject. He writes for a living, so I tried to talk about that. About how his interview with William Gibson went. After his other projects. He kept steering the conversation back to sex and romance. But I wasn't interested. A week or so ago I met an amazing person and I want to be with him. (more on that soon)
"This is going to be the longest six days ever," I thought.
I take him to the neighborhood I frequent, Plaza Midwood. I'm excited about showing him the nifty places that are there.
We had dinner. He was gruff with the waitress, which left me less than impressed. I kept trying to make not so small but not so big talk while we were eating. He kept steering the conversation back to how I must be attracted to him because he's a super smart writer with a Masters degree in writing and a bachelors in philosophy.
"I just want to be friends right now," I said to him, gently. I wanted to retain some sort of tact, that hopefully he would read between the lines and my closed off body language and get the damn hint.
Nope.
By that time I needed a drink. We went to my favorite bar/convenience store/cafe. I had cider. He kept drinking, but it was beer this time. He kept sitting closer and closer to me. He smelled quite bad. He kept insisting that I was attracted to him. That he could read it in my body language. And that I was too afraid of divulging my feelings for him because I was afraid of getting hurt. I kept inching away from him only to have him inch closer to him. By that time I knew I needed reinforcements so I sent an SOS text to the fellow I had began to see. Forrest, my fetching ginger lad, promptly came while my 'friend' was outside smoking. I don't usually call for back up as Iggy can usually 'lay the smack down' (to use the parlance of our times) but this was a serious situation. I no longer felt safe. I never feel that I am in danger. I've walked the streets of Brooklyn before dawn all by my lonesome. I go to bars and clubs alone. I always feel safe and that I can take care of what I need to.
When my 'friend' came in from outside he saw that I had my hand on Forrests knee. He flipped and yammered on about how he didn't fly all this way to watch me flirt with other men.
That's when I snapped. I calmly picked up my things, announced that we were leaving, and asked Forrest to come with me. When we got out of the Common Market I burst into tears.
I invested so much time, emotion, love, and energy into this 'friendship' only to be 'girlfriend zoned'. I thought this was a person I could trust. This is someone I've opened up to myriad times. I thought this was a person who would respect my wishes as an autonomous person. I told him I was taking him to a hotel near the airport and he could figure it out from there and that he wasn't welcome at my house and that I'd prefer to be alone on Thanksgiving rather than spend it with him.
We never made it to a hotel. We made it to the parking lot of the bar where Forrest works. My 'friend' kept insisting that there was something between he and I and that the only reason I was denying it is because I am in a period of mania.
"You don't mean this. You're just being manic."
Fuck you, dude. I have a pretty good grip on my bipolar. I'm acutely aware of my feelings and behavior. Have I done stupid shit while manic? Fuck yeah. But denying my supposed feelings for a person is not one of those stupid things.
I kicked him out of my car and put his stuff on the sidewalk. I called a cab for him and gave him money for it.
Forrest and I retreated into the bar where he works. He had to cover for a co worker for a few hours. I sat at the bar, mostly silent, rehashing what had just transpired to a mutual friend of ours via messenger. My 'friend' came in and began to talk to me, the volume of his voice escalating, a forte of buzzing and discord. The owner of the bar saw I was in trouble and had my 'friend' kicked out.
He insisted that he spoke to my mom, that he could stay at my house. He insisted I was in love with him and was just 'being manic'.
He is downright fucking delusional. No way would I fall in love with a portly man with a cromagnon brow who looks like someone took a shrink ray to a midget and then overcompensated when they reversed the ray gun, making the midget a normal height but with the same little person like features and who smells bad. Oh believe me, I can easily overlook appearance and maybe even hygiene if someone is nice, smart, funny, and not at all arrogant and existing dangerously in a world of pure fantasy.
He kept begging me not to kick him out of my life.
Too bad, fucker. Maybe you should have listened to me when I clearly said that I didn't want to have sex you and just wanted to be friends.
I hate the fucking 'friend zone'. I hate the term 'friend zone'. It's a term used mostly by sore losers and bitter people.
Why is my friendship a second rate consolation prize? Am that I dull that people only want me for sex? Am I that horrible that all I'm good for is what's between my thighs?
Absolutely not. I'm awesome.
And now he's minus one awesome friend because he didn't get what he wanted and threw a temper tantrum like a fucking two year old. And using my bipolar against me? That's an insult you just don't come back from with me.
But...in all of this I gained an amazing boyfriend. Not only was he there for me last night, but he let me be in control. He didn't feel a need to 'defend my honor' or what have you, though he did push my 'friends' hand away when he tightly grabbed my arm. Forrest wasn't a knight in shining armor last night. He was a partner in crime.
My fetching ginger lad is nice to me and everyone he comes into contact with, is smart, interesting, a good listener, works hard, and respects my body, my space, and my decisions. He can keep up with my energy. Is full of a certain joie d'vivre. Also, he's fucking hot. No pussy footing around that one. He's sexy as fuck. Pale, thin, tattooed.
Oh, and he's amazing in bed.
(He's also ten years younger than me. Does that make me a cougar? @theyerg doesn't think so, but I like to think I am a bit.)
Anywho, Here's a picture of said sexy man:
That picture doesn't do him nearly enough justice, but you can pick up what I'm throwing down.
PS- for those of you concerned, I am in a period of mania. I've slept perhaps six hours in total over the past three nights. But I'm monitoring myself. I'm making sure that, no matter how awesome it seems at the time, that spending all my money, drinking too much, being loud, etc aren't actually good ideas.
I know that was a long one so here's a TL;DR: Finally gets to meet internet friend IRL. Friend turns out to be an entitled arrogant douche.
This doesn't mean I'll stop pursing friendships online. I've met some of my best friends online, especially here on SG. I'm not going to let one bad apple contaminate the whole bushel.
Now, a reward for your patience:
