Should I Have Thrown a Block Party?

                          It's all fun and games until you have to prepare to be stalked.

                          It's all fun and games until you have to prepare to be stalked.

This is an awkward post because it’s like a long and unpleasant – mostly just for me I hope – postscript to two other posts: “Yo, Dude. I’m Not Dutch” and “Just Talk to Me; Communications 101”. It’s also embarrassing because I have to out myself AGAIN as the fucking worst when it comes to taking my own hard won advice. Times two! I pray you do as I say…

Where to begin? At so bad or equally heinous? I wrote about emotionally prioritizing Bourbon St., the one guy out of three that I’d not yet met, even though he was a high false intimacy risk, and I justified it by comparing the chemistry of conversation among them. I did end with the eerily prescient disclaimer of “and no matter what happens next with Bourbon St...” If this was a novel instead of a reality sit com, we would call that obvious foreshadowing. But because it’s my fucking LIFE, we’ll call it what turned out to be: flirting with disaster. Literally. Go, me.

And then? I accepted a second date with Bourbon St. who dutched me, RIGHT after I had just written that I would not being doing that again. Like fucking days, dude. What. And the thing is, my instincts were bang fucking on. A guy that will dutch you is not that into you, no matter what he says or how he THINKS he’s into you. #nobrainerdude

So. You find out how I connect with Bourbon St. in the Communications 101 post. When he came back from New Orleans we met, had drinks on a patio together and proceeded to talk our heads off. Did he look like his profile pic? Not much. Was he not really my type? Certainly. While the conversation flowed like a chocolate fountain, did it flow in both directions with questions and answers equally distributed? Again, not so much. Was I instantly attracted to him? No. Was it still a fun date? Yes. Until he dutched me, there was no real strong indication that I shouldn’t second date it, just to see. There’s so many factors that come into play when first meeting and I find it’s just common sense to err on the side of “why not?” when it comes to whether or not there’s a connection worth nurturing. How bad could it be? Insert OBVIOUS FORESHADOWING PART TWO HERE.

One thing I did note was that Bourbon St. drank. I drink. But I don’t drink like that. Meaning, looking back, all of his messages referred to going from drink to drink. And when he met me for a drink, he’d already been drinking. Then he had like three more. So if I even fucking noticed, then it would be a lot of drinks. And it felt like a tickle of discomfort which would soon feel like a fucking headlock. Oh yay.

But. Bourbon St. also had a puppy like energy and enthusiasm as well as being able to make me laugh so even with his casual: “Should we just split this?” when the check came, I let it go. I thought: “Maybe I’m wrong with the dutch thing.” And what was really hilarious? He was Dutch. LITERALLY. Oh the signs.

Cue the next week when, for food poisoning reasons, Bourbon St. postponed our second date but proceeded to call me, between barfing sessions, to talk. Like on the phone. Who does THAT anymore? And so we talked. For HOURS. That day and for days afterward. And when we actually met again, it felt like we knew each other much better than we actually did which is text book false intimacy, GD it. And some of the calls were clearly red flags of his behavior to come that I ignored because I hoped he would work out. I hoped he would be “the one” to take me off the meet market. I just weakly hoped. And that is dangerous shit, girlies, let me tell you.

Date two: we met at a happy hour two blocks from his place. Again, he’d already been drinking and had a bunch more. It was only like 5pm and I had two glasses of wine and felt pretty fucking loaded. We laughed a lot and this time when he AGAIN tried to dutch me – for HAPPY HOUR! – I just said no. But when he said: "Let’s go to my place then" I said yes. Thank you, wine #not

Long story short, I ended up naked with him and it wasn’t good. I just wasn’t physically attracted to him. Period. Had I been more sober, I would have eased out; instead, I ended up having mediocre sex with a drunk dad bod who was very into me and had no realization that it wasn’t even close to mutual. I got out of there ASAP and that was it for me. When he called me the next AM to say how great it had been, I had to give him the “I just like you as a friend” speech. I didn’t expect it to go well, obvs. I just didn’t expect what happened next.

Bourbon St. became very angry and told me so, with repeated texts. He called me a liar and said I’d lead him on. He would change it up periodically with an “I’m so hurt” one then roll out a nasty insult. I did reply sincerely a couple of times to the sad ones because I’m not a fucking bitch but mostly I kept my head down and prayed he would eventually wind down, especially since he knew where I worked and lived only two blocks away. I know. EPIC.

A WEEK LATER, he texted and POF messaged me asking had I ever been in a threesome? ENOUGH. I wrote:

“You have a DAUGHTER. How would you like a man to send her the texts you’ve been sending me after TWO DATES?”

His reply: “It’s your fault. You CRUSHED ME.”

Aaanddd there we have it: Nutbar qualification in a fucking nutshell. Two fucking dates, folks.

But here’s the great news! You can get a free blocking app for those pesky calls and texts from men who will not let it go. And oc, POF black out is a click away #allwin

I have to say though, it was a bit of an emotionally grueling sitch there, watching my phone like a ticking bomb for a week. Not good times. I told my gf Hanako his real name and how to access his texts in my computer, just in case. You know, of physical stalking and death. But on the up side, it took three and a half years before I had to Phone Warrior myself so that’s not bad, right? Three and a half years before a guy felt he had the right to continually harass me because I told him as nicely as possible I didn’t want to see him again #luckyme

The real lesson? Be careful what you ask for. When I went on and on about Bourbon St.’s communication skills, I didn’t realize he would turn them against me. I’m telling you, being Lucy has been a real learning experience!

ps Latest update: Bourbon St. just found me on OKC and said: JUST CURIOUS. CAN WE HANG OUT TOGETHER AS FRIENDS?

I tweeted: Stop the crack and messaging me. Once a dick, never a gf #cannotmakethisshitup

I have to ask: has this happened to you? If so, how bad was it? Because I fully understand I got off lightly, ttfl. Omg. Please share all here at Lucy’s School of Defensive Dating. FM.

xo Lucy