Dude, Get Help!
I had placed an ad in a singles paper and after speaking with this particular guy for some time, I agreed to go out with him. Hockey was new to our city so he bragged about having season tickets and said that is where he would take me on our date. He told me to wear something nice, a dress or skirt because we would be sitting near the owner of the hockey team. I was impressed and thought wow this guy seems successful and knows how to make a fun date. WRONG! He showed up to pick me up; he is in jeans and a button down shirt with cowboy boots. I am dressed in a long suede skirt, silk blouse and riding boots. He walks me to his car. It's brand new as it still had paper plates, and he then proceeds to question me about his car, "Do you like my new car?" I say yes. "Look, don't you like the wheels?" Again, yes. He opens the door and I get in, "Hey, what do you think of the leather seats, nice huh?" Yes. As he walks around to his side I'm thinking I should bail on the date, but I resist. He gets in. "Look at the cool sunroof." Yeah, it's nice. "Check out the stereo." Yeah, nice stereo. Just as he started to point out yet another feature I finally say, "It's nice, it's all nice, inside and out." But that didn't stop him. On and on he went on about every detail of that car. Finally we get to the arena and I notice that everyone else is in jeans and sweatshirts, real casual. We park in the parking garage and he makes yet another statement about his car. I get out and lock my door and close it. He gets out and hits the remote lock several times, I said to him, "hey guy I locked my side, you know the way you are going on and on about the car don't be surprised if it gets stolen." We go inside the arena and find our seats that are nowhere close to the owner. The owner is the next section over and down at the very front while we are sitting on the next to the last row in our section, and here I look like an idiot dressed up and no one else is. We sit down and he proceeds to throw his legs over the empty seats in front of us. His pant legs are so short they ride up past the top of his boots showing his ugly, skinny, hairy legs. I wanted to die. I suffer through most of the game and then excuse myself and retreat to the ladies room trying to figure out how to get out of there. I run into a friend of a friend but am too embarrassed to beg for a ride home, so I go back to my seat just as the game ended. We walk back to the parking garage and NO CAR! He was freaking out, and I was too because of my comment I knew he thought I had someone steal it. No, the dummy had pushed the wrong level on the elevator and we were on the wrong floor. With that and realizing how he lied about me needing to dress up and us sitting next to the owner of the team, I decided that instead of just moving or changing my number I would be honest and tell him that I didn't think we were right for each other. I waited until we got pretty close to my house because I wanted for it to be clear before we got there and he tried to invite himself in. So about four miles from my house I tell him that I just don't think this is for me. Spawn of Satan's head seemed to make a 360 degree turn right in front of my eyes, "What do you mean you don't think this is for you?" all but spitting venom on me. I was concerned and tried to calm him down, "It's not you at all, it's really me. I just broke up with my boyfriend of several years and I thought I was ready to date again but I realize that I'm not." He tells me, "Well, it has to be you and something wrong with you because there's nothing wrong with me." He was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as a ghost. I start thinking maybe I should just open the door and do one of those tuck, drop and roll things onto the street, but we are so close to my house that I smell freedom and stay put. I live on a very busy four-lane street and this jerk stops in the middle lane and says, "I think I've gone far enough, don't you?" I tell him, "Yes, in fact I'd say you may have gone too far." The freak speeds off as a steady stream of cars whiz by as I try to make it across the intersection in my long skirt. He proceeded to call me all night leaving messages on my machine saying we needed to talk. He felt I used him for his hockey tickets, and that I should reimburse him. He called for the next several days. Finally I had my number changed. My son was only five years old when about two weeks later we were sitting in our living room when suddenly there was a banging on the front door that made us both jump out of our seats. Not knowing what was going on, I led my son to his room and put my finger to my mouth telling him to stay quiet. The banging persisted so I tip-toed to the peep hole and it was that jerk trying to beat my door down! I go back to my son and we close his bedroom door and waited for the freak to leave. My son was scared to death. A few more days passed and in my mailbox I find a letter telling me what an awful person I am, how disturbed I must be using people, and a newspaper clipping with some story about the girl that cried wolf. This guy was completely out of touch with reality. He eventually moved on to his next victim. BEWARE! Never let them know where you live.
— Andrea, 28