I’d been in the desert for too long. So, that night, clear thinking went out the window: I got myself a one-night stand, not realising I was about to follow Alice into wonderland.
At first, it was the usual: you break the fast, you go a little bit mad… no harm done really, say goodbye the next morning and forget about it…but I wasn’t counting on the fact I attract weirdos, and that’s when they’re not full out psychos.
He got weird as I was leaving, said I was beyond beautiful and, sweet Jesus, from somewhere (where?!) produced a rose which he offered in his open palm while gazing in awe at my messy hair & clothes.
“When are we doing this again?” he asked. “When“…a clear assumption that we would – alarms bells rang and I knew I had to eschew polite excuses and be straight with him.
“Never” I told him, ’twas nice and all, but it was a one-off, that’s all.”
His face crumpled and I suddenly understood he was going to be major trouble. Regret engulfed me, too late – no sex is worth all this aggro.
The nightmare – or was it a bad joke? I’m not sure – started:
everywhere I went he followed, he didn’t even let up after I cornered him in the library where I whispered as loudly as I dared – aware of the librarian’s furious stare – that: “no, no and no, we’ve got to go our separate ways, leave me the fuck alone. If nothing else, have some pride, man…you don’t really want me, you need to work on your issues, here’s my therapist’s card, please give him a call.”
2 weeks of constantly looking over my shoulder and harbouring thoughts of murder…2 weeks of him always, always managing to find me. And then…
I turned up at this bar one night: live band, friends, guitars, everything I like, the making of a good evening…until I spied the freak from the corner of my eye, crying in his beer coz I wouldn’t hit repeat.
Dude was sobbing like a teenage girl devastated by her first disaster crush.
I got so mad & thought: jeez! That night, I must have been real drunk, how the fuck else did I end up with such a pussy…
I was feeling thoroughly sorry for myself… but then it got worse when he suddenly punched the bartender who’d winked at me.
All I’d wanted was to get back in the saddle, and I’d managed to mount the craziest horse in the stable.
The police was called, blood flowed from the bartender’s nose, I stood there feeling morose, solemnly promising myself that from now on I’d keep my legs closed.
“Possession… addiction…obsession…” my friends muttered darkly as the freak was finally carted away…until
the bartender came over, his face a total mess – grinning though – he kinda looked grotesque, to be honest…and asked for my number.
“Are you fucking serious? Did that blow to the head make you delirious? No thanks, I’d rather go back in the desert and stay there for all eternity than have to deal with this kind of shit. Let’s face it: most of you guys are crazy! I’m going to go and buy a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, a dildo, find a taxi, go home, lock my doors… and possibly not come out again until men have…evolved…into fully-functioning human beings – into people actually capable of rational thought.”
I walked out the door, not looking back, not once, leaving trouble behind once and for all.
*Not a true story obviously (TF) but I’ve had my fair share of obsessed weirdos. I was talking about it with a friend tonight and she suggested I write a (hopefully) funny little something about it.
The bit about punching the bartender is true: the guy who did the punching was a friend I’d never even flirted with, let alone anything else, but that night he went into a crazy fit of jealousy, and there was blood, and the police was called and I felt aw-ful…and the bartender still asked me for my number *massive eye roll*
The bit about the rose is real too, to this day I find it really freaky.
I have experienced even darker shades of obsession and that is no joke..maybe one day I’ll write about it*
Image credit: thelifespanofadoll.tumblr.com