My date from hell

Most  people who face negative experiences/ trauma, choose not to disclose their experience or they do not speak about it for a very long time.


Negative experiences aren’t necessarily easy to recount. The reasons for this are multi-fold and likely include perceived stigma of being a “victim”, shame, past negative disclosure experiences, and fears of being blamed or told that the event was somehow our fault. An attempt to disclose a traumatic experience with a non understanding individual, may harm recovery. It can cause the individual to shut down and lock the psychological vault, if not indefinitely then at least for a long time.

At times, I find disclosing my negative experiences to others…therapeutic. Listening is a sign of love and understanding and after sharing, I feel that compassion. While the below story is negative and somewhat humorous, it is indeed real and this is my outlet. 

It was a birthday party. I was invited this night by a mutual friend to the birthday girl and I had no idea I would meet you this night. I was excited to get dressed up and enjoy myself because it honestly had been a very long time since I had done so. That evening, I work a gray long sleeved crop top, a long (but fitting) black skirt, and a pair of gold heels that complimented my white toe nail polish. My hair was sleeked into a long ponytail weave that reached the middle of my back and of course, my baby hairs were laid. I smelled like vanilla sugar and I was ready to mingle. I arrived at the birthday party at about 11pm and I recognized some familiar faces. I greeted them, and I felt your eyes on me. My friend that accompanied me to the party, began to speak on a topic that I can no longer recall because I was half listening as I felt your eyes burning a hole in my skin.

Being the Gemini that I am. I approached you. “Why are you standing in a corner alone?” I asked the stranger. He relayed to me, “I came with a mutual friend, but I don’t know most people in this room.” Fair enough. 20 minutes later, I forgot we weren’t the only ones in the room. Our conversation grew enthralling and the parallels in our lives were pleasing to discover. Shortly after, the birthday girl announced it was time for the party bus to take us to the club. I had no idea that this house party would lead to the club but luckily for me, I was dressed casually enough for a house party yet sexy enough for the club — I was ready.

We arrived and the scene was quintessential to say the least. I danced with my girlfriend for 1 song before you grabbed me to dance. Without hesitation, I knew you were waiting for your moment and I didn’t mind it. After all, I was interested in seeing how you moved on the dance floor. Your dance moves were hilarious. Not necessarily what I expected, but good enough for me to give you my number by the end of the night. I woke up the next morning to your Good morning text and for the following week we held meaningful conversation via text.

When Friday arrived, you asked if you could see me on Sunday after you left Church. “Sure.” I understood you were really into me because you lived an hour an 30 minutes away. However, I said sure, because I couldn’t wait to pick your brain. Sunday’s used to be my cooking days. When you arrived for lunch, I made chicken burritos. I naively allowed you into my 1 bedroom apartment and told you to make yourself at home.

We caught up some, and I made you a burrito. But right before indulging you just had to mention… “I eat a lot” That caught me off guard. “Ok.. I cooked a lot, so help yourself.” I didn’t understand your warning was an inclining to your savage eating habits. After one burrito, I watched as you stuffed ALL of the ingredients into 3 burritos and… ate…. ALL..of… my… food. I watched you slurp down ALL the food I cooked that afternoon without saying one word. I was disgusted and stunned.

But I tried to rationalize the situation. I thought to myself “maybe this is his first meal of the day, maybe he hasn’t ate in weeks, maybe he really loves my cooking… maybe I should overlook this red flag??” I took your plate and I asked well, “how was the food?” The response I was given should have been enough for me to kick you out. Enough for me to slap your mother for raising such a disrespectful human. You fixed your greasy lips to say “It could have used more pepper” At this point I was fuming. Smoke was in the air but I let it clear before I spoke again. I truly held my composure in this moment. I grabbed both your plate and mine and took them to the sink. After washing dishes, I sat beside you and we talked about tv shows. I played something for us to watch as you sunk into my couch. Oh, you were comfortable, comfortable and I wanted nothing more than to kick you out of my apartment. What happened to the guy I met at the party? How could I have missed these signs?…

After 10 minutes of watching whatever show was on you went for it. Just as You grabbed me to dance in the party you were bold this time too. However, this time I was not receptive. You kissed the skin I had showing on my back very Passionately. Oh, you went for it. I jumped. “Could you.. not?” I said. WTF not only did I not like that. It was random, impulsive, and creepy. We continued to watch the show when you kissed my back AGAIN. This time I was not so nice. I jumped up and I cursed you out. I moved to the opposite couch as I thought of ways to kick you out of my apartment.

Usually I’d text my bestfriend to give me a call and some emergency would be my escape out of the awkward situation. However, this time I was very blunt. You were too disrespectful. I expressed to you that” hey, its getting late, and I’d like you to leave.” The disappointment on your face was less shocking than your words. “I didn’t plan on leaving until midnight” MOTHERF&#*@! Who the hell are you to tell me when you planned on leaving my home? You then asked if you could use my restroom before your departure.

Image result for bad first date

Whew a sigh of relief. Finally this hell date was coming to an end.. I could see the light.

15 minutes later you were still in my restroom. I approached my bathroom door and pressed my ear on the door. Instantly, I heard bombs dropping in Baghdad. The farts you let off mixed with the smell that surrounded my room were head spinning. How DARE you take a hot shit in my bathroom as its time for you to leave?? Did you really have to go or was this petty revenge for being kicked out? I couldn’t put my finger on it, I just knew this was the last time we would ever hang out. What puzzled me was when you came out the bathroom, you had a brand new outfit on. “Why did you change?” I asked. You responded, “Just in case I spent the night I brought another outfit.” I laughed inside. The entitlement was enough to piss me off but funny enough for me to understand that you sir.. are sadly mistaken.

You left my home that evening with the saddest puppy dog eyes as you asked for a hug. I refused to hug you and you got in your car and drove off. I layed on my couch and pondered on how things went so wrong. My phone buzzed and it was you again. I opened your SMS. It read, “Can I get a bite”? A bite? what on earth is he talking about, he literally ate all of my food. Is this a sexual reference? I wanted you to specify. “A bite of what?” You responded, “I drove an hour and thirty minutes to see you, can I get 5 minutes with the kitty, can I get a bite?”

Baffled, I blocked you.

I could only reflect on my mistakes afterwards. I should have never allowed a stranger into my home. You weren’t entirely to blame. I am grateful you did not come back on your own accord. A crazy individual, however a needed learning lesson you were indeed.

Thoughts? comment below.


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