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April 12, 2011
Sweet Jesus
I was involved in a local theater group for a few summers in my early twenties. The last year it existed I wound up making friends with the guy who was playing my fiancée in the show. He was shorter than me (I'm 5'3"), over thirty, still a virgin, lived with his parents, and was devout Catholic — basically everything exactly opposite of the mischievous, newly single sexual deviant I was at the time. I couldn't have been less attracted to him (and very bluntly told him so one night after a few drinks), but we had some really great, stimulating conversations, and I always enjoyed debating on things like religion and movies with him.
He told me he was working on a young-adult fiction series, and asked me to come over one day to help him work on his outline. I was morbidly curious, so I agreed. What followed was the most uncomfortable afternoon of my life.
Pictures of Jesus decorated the hall down to the kitchen where we sat. His mother (recall he was thirty) stood not quite out of sight the entire time, apparently monitoring our conversation, visibly tensing every time I moved or spoke in a manner not demure and retiring. After nearly an hour, he finally suggested we go up to his "office," I finally decided I'd had enough, made my excuses, and left.
“I was morbidly curious, so I agreed. What followed was the most uncomfortable afternoon of my life.”
I later found out from mutual friends that he'd been talking about how I needed someone to "guide" me, and how I was a "lost soul" who just needed someone to take care of me, and one night he got trashed (probably on two beers — the guy had the tolerance of a toddler) and confessed to a few people his desire to lose his virginity to me, but not until we'd gotten married. Apparently their firm statements of "Dude... hell no," didn't dissuade him. He'd been planning out how to get me to his house to meet his parents for a while. I'd just been on the most uncomfortable first date of my life and didn't even know it until weeks after I broke contact with him. Some dudes, huh? — Annabeth K.
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Commentarium (65 Comments)
It sounds like the last guy could have been mentally ill; he's definitely presenting with some disorganized thinking and speech.
▲▲▲ Has a big poster of Sigmund above their bed ▲▲▲
"... he's definately presenting..." lol
I really am loving this series. More, please. :)
Oh jesus these are fantastic. Diabolically tragic, and authentically so, on every count. The first one - a guy who 'holidays' in hotels in his own city.... oh sheeit. This dude is obviously some lonely, slightly disturbed pussy hound on a nothing-to-lose streak and our heroine had mistaken that (at least at the outset) for evidence of quirky, individualistic charm. And then the rabid contrarian co-opting feminism as a foil for her misanthropic social inadequacy.... sheeit! I remember at college being chided for holding a door for a woman on one count (I would've held it for anyone... I generally don't let pneumatic doors rebound on hapless innocents) and then chided again within the week for not holding a door open for a feisty lass exiting a Feminist Studies gig (we shared some tute rooms). I remember the exact sarcasm... "I see chivalry is dead" she said and without a hint of irony. Love it. And the last one... the social adventurer who lives with the borderline mentally ill mistaking it for a transformative bohemian odyssey. There's some great bones for short stories in every one of these.
I totally agree. Concerning the door, I think whoever gets to it first should hold it open for whoever is behind them, regardless of gender. It's rude to drop it on anyone.
"the social adventurer who lives with the borderline mentally ill mistaking it for a transformative bohemian odyssey" - Well put!
"I would have voted for Hillary" = "I have lots of black friends."
Doesn't mean he didn't vote for Hilary in the primaries, but he did not have the choice to vote for Hilary on the Presidential ticket.
He would have voted Hilary for President if she was on the ticket.
No, I get it.
voting for a woman does not a feminist make. this guy is still an idiot and probably can't hold his own in a logical debate
I disagree. I think that being abrasive and confrontational does not a feminist make either. I love being a strong and assertive woman, but I also like being kind and gracious. Leave the poor guy alone. BTW, I sure as shit would not have voted for Hilary.
Sounds kind of like a sociology experiment gone awry.
The woman sounded like an asshole, but I get what mm is saying -- all of the guy's defensive "I'm /such/ a feminist though" pleas point to insecurities of his own.
the earlobe thing - a murakami reference?
I want to see the poem.
I think I know who this is! In which case, if I can find it, I will certainly share. :)
The bedbugs aren't really much of indication of any aspect of the person, just throwing that out. As someone who was mortified to find out I had some of my own about a year ago, it's something you can't control and doesn't say anything of a person's hygiene or anything else.
That is why Jews should not go to Germany. We will never be accepted there.
whatevs
the point
--
your head
As a German, let me say that not all of us are that way. The guy Sarah had the misfortune of meeting really is an asshole.
Most of my bad first dates haven't been this bad.
The "click here for more details" link doesn't work?
Apologies guys -- it's fixed. The details are here:
http://www.nerve.com/five-stories-essay-contest
Zionist should go back to where they came from and leave Palestine to the Palestinians.
I think they already went back to where they came from, so I think you mean you want them to go back to where they went.
My thought is that if the Palestinians can take it back, let them have if. But so far, Israel has proven to be a winner, and I support winners.
@You: that's a rather dangerous logic. If we followed that train of thought, Spain and Portugal would be Arab countries, because during 800 years until 1492 they were Muslim kingdoms.
These stories are great! but isn't it kind of "unfair" or "unbalanced" that just 1 out of 5 stories is about a guy having a bad date with a girl? Do we guys don't have bad first dates?
Editorial interest trumps "fairness" every time. (Said sincerely: I'd rather they be all from the same gender than throw in a token that isn't as high-quality.)
"Once and a while"? Can that be edited to read properly, "once in a while"?
I was thinking the same thing!
I wish I'd known about this contest. I would have submitted my story about the guy who after learning that my Mom grew up in Amsterdam, thought of the Red Light District and asked if she was a whore who fraked donkeys.
We're talking about my Mom, mind you.
I'm ashamed to admit that my conflict-avoiding self didn't walk out right then and there, but I did call him an ahole in a follow-up phone call.
Once again, Nerve makes me feel less alone. I'm a narrative opportunist.
My friend Erica's half Polish; her grandfather and his wife escaped the Nazis by doing some espionage on behalf of the US. She had a blind date one time with this guy who seemed like just your average West Virginia redneck, but once they got down to dinner, he started talking about his involvement in the White Power movement and showing her his swastika tat. The next hour was a loooooong one.
She also had this crazy Christian guy ask her to marry him after their first date, saying that he would "make her good." Poor girl.
Met this woman through friends. Saw her many times before I asked her out on a real date. Went to movie, dinner, dancing. Had a real good time. Except one thing, her phone. It kept ringing about every 15 minutes. She would look at it and smile. At first she said it was just friends checking up on her. Then later she confessed it was her boy friend. Which I had no idea she had a boy friend. At that point I figured this was going nowhere, but she invited me up to her place.
Yada Yada Yada, as I was leaving in the morning, a guy came right up to me in the parking lot, yelling. Tried to get in my car, but he pulled a handgun and starting firing. One hit me in the leg. My "date" came running out of the building, screaming. He took one shot at her. Then broke down crying, begging her to take him back. Even threatening to kill himself.
She took him back. They went back into her place, crying and hugging.
I drove to the hospital , vowing never to date again.
Cool! That's a clever way of lkoonig at it!
It's much easier to undrestnad when you put it that way!
All of my questions setteld-thanks!
Super ifnormtaive writing; keep it up.
Dude, right on there brohter.