Met him at a bar. He asked for my number. We were both drunk. They usually don’t remember who the hell I am the next day so I’m like ok. What the hell. Why not?
But he does remember. And he does call. So we go out.
He takes me to this really nice restaurant and proceeds to tell me the history of the restaurant. He, of course, knows the restaurant owner personally. This particular owner was gay and not accepted in his community, so he went to Paris to study design. He came back and established this trendy restaurant, the first of its kind in the area, setting the precedent for many to follow.
See, I’m no rich girl, so I usually don’t go to places like this. He valets his benz, we walk in and we are one of three couples in the entire restaurant. I open the menu and realize, he is really trying to impress me. We get a bottle of wine and I order the best steak salad I have EVER eaten. By the time we finish the first bottle of wine, I find out that he is 40 years old (I am 24), he is an ex-marine, and he works in finance. He has lived all around the world, has partied with the likes of Beyonce, talked shit with 50 Cent, and has been to clubs with hired women with bottles and tables and the whole nine yards. He also confesses that he usually only dates married women because they dont expect gifts or special treatment. By the time we get cheesecake and are on our second bottle, he has told me that I need to wear only my dress with no tights on the next date, and if I wear the two puffy pig tail hairstyle again, he will use them as handles as he penetrates me with his seven inches of cock. It used to be nine, but in his old age it has shrunk down to seven.
I think I’m drunk by now and am making reasonably poor judgment calls, and apparently I promise to go on three more dates with him. Well four, because I will not have sex with him until after at least the third…And I’ve never been with a white boy before.
The next day I am sober.
What the hell?
He messages me and tells me he had a great time. I respond saying that I dont think we can see one another anymore because we don’t want the same thing. He calls me a silly girl and says see you Monday (when our next date is scheduled for).
I’ve only been single for one and a half months now, so I’m not sure how this works. But I’m quickly learning that one must be mean in order to help people understand how I feel.
I have since decided that I cannot go on ANY more dates. This is too much for me. I’ll have to work retroactively to tell you about my other HORRIBLE experiences…