Читать книгу Don't Forget the Pepper Spray (Second Edition) - Kristen Marie - Страница 8

I am not a Democrat by any means; however, in the spirit of our U.S. President, Barrack Obama, I developed a greater appreciation for his efforts to control just who in this fine country deserves to own a gun. I love our Constitution and believe freedom is the ultimate law by which a society should be governed. I also believe however, thanks to the experience I am about to relate to you, that when the right to bear arms is abused, the abuser should have the gun shoved, well you know where…

Back in my early, naïve single days, I had not yet learned to be as selective in who I chose to spend my time with as I am now. One Friday night when my kids were with their dad, I was all alone with only my computer and a gallon of ice cream to keep me company. Since I had sworn off ice cream after spending hours and hours each week at the gym trying to lose the baby fat I was blessed with thanks to my newborn son, the computer won the contest for my time. At this point in my single’s career, the light bulb of realization still hadn’t appeared glowingly above my head indicating the obvious fact that people who were at home chatting on an online dating site were essentially the most desperate people on the planet. You see, I was one of those desperate people and I was still in the dark about the reality of the single’s world.

So there I was, me and my computer, looking at less-than-promising prospects with whom to chat with for the evening. I noticed one younger guy who seemed rather attractive. Looking back, he was probably too attractive to be true and the red flags in my brain should have been on high alert by the fine caliber of this picture. He initiated a chat with me and I decided to chat back. He was smooth, charming, and after showering me with a few flattering compliments, I continued to chat. We conversed easily and before I knew it, I had agreed to meet the young guy in the gorgeous picture for dinner. At least I had had the wherewithal to ask him if his picture was recent. He told me it was about 6 months old. It seemed to me that a person couldn’t change too much in that short amount of time. This fact alone was the catalyst to get me out of my house. But I have since learned that it’s important to ask for many, many recent pictures before you agree to meet a guy for anything. Life is all about living and learning though…right?

Thankfully, my desperate need to avoid spending a Friday night alone did not completely turn my brain off. I did make sure to meet in a public place and I figured since he was paying, that I would suggest my favorite restaurant. I arrived early enough to watch for him to get out of his car, size him up and in case he wasn’t what his dating profile claimed he was, I could make a quick getaway. I watched every single man walk into that restaurant and I saw no one who at all resembled the picture that I had recently viewed on my computer monitor. Just as I was about to give up, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to look down at a bald man who at his fullest height was maybe 5’6”, a good 5” shorter than me in my heels. He introduced himself as Chad, the guy from the dating site, the guy I had actually agreed to break bread with. I honestly didn’t think it was possible to gain 60 lbs. in 6 months, but Chad had actually pulled it off and was carrying it all in a nice, basketball size paunch in his abdomen. I was furious at myself for not noticing him before he saw me so I could run away as fast as my legs could carry me. I was stuck spending my Friday night with a short, overweight, balding liar.

He was thrilled to meet me and again showered me with compliments. “At least he was nice. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a complete waste,” I tried to console myself. The food was of course delicious and the company was somewhat enjoyable because we spent most of the time in the restaurant on the phone with Chad’s older brother who we had discovered was a former crush of mine back in high school and college. It was an amazing coincidence and I kept wondering if he, too, had gained the weight equivalent to that of an 8 year-old and lost all of his hair since I last saw him.

Thankfully, dinner came to an end and Chad offered to walk me to my car. I felt very safe with him considering the fact that I knew his family, and I was grateful for the escort as it was dark and we were not in the safest part of town. I could not return to my car, nor could I get back to the comfort and safety of the gallon of mint, chocolate chip that was awaiting me in my freezer fast enough. Just as my car came into view, Chad threw me off my game again as he tried to grab my hand. I instinctively retracted my hand and eminently looked down to see his sad, pouty dog face. I told him I was sorry, but I hoped he had gotten the hint. His response to my apology was extraordinarily unforeseen. He halted mid-step, turned to face me, pulled a card out of his pocket and said, “Look, I have a gun holder’s permit.” Whether this was his attempt to “shock and awe” me into being impressed or scared I did not know. If he wanted to do the latter though, he had accomplished his goal. I was terrified.

He sensed my apprehension and began to laugh. He told me that he had been mugged right in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City and was beat up pretty badly. Because of that experience he re-acquired a sense of control by enrolling in a concealed weapons course and bought a gun. I began to believe he was simply trying to impress me with this unexpected bit of news, although nothing about being mugged in the safest city in America impressed me. It only seemed to add to the wretchedness of this poor man. I felt only pity for him and maybe that is why I said, “Yes,” when he asked me if I wanted to go hang out at a club he liked just a few blocks down the street. He convinced me to ride the rest of the way in his car because he had a huge fear of walking in big cities in the dark since the mugging. When I hesitated he said that if I decided I wanted to leave the club early, I could simply walk the couple of blocks back to my car. Chivalry is indeed dead.

I tried to think of an excuse to leave, but I was in so much shock I kept drawing blanks. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the car of the short, bald, overweight, spineless man who didn’t waste any time pulling out his gun and then went on to describe its rather ordinary features in great detail.

After what seemed like forever, he finally drove towards the bar. I shook off the fear and shock as we parked. He didn’t open my door and I practically had to run to keep up with him as we headed into what seemed like a busy, electrifying club. There were more attractive men than I think I had ever seen in one building. I hoped that the events of the night were beginning to turn in my favor. Then again, I allowed myself to hope prematurely. Something was amiss. We walked to the end of the bar and I noticed that I was the only woman in the place and even more bothersome was the fact that not one of those gorgeous men took even a second glance at me.

For the first time that night the light bulb did turn on above my head as I suddenly came to the realization that “Short, Overweight and Balding Guy with a Gun” had just paid for us to attend the bar’s weekly GAY NIGHT! I began to giggle, then to laugh, then to laugh hysterically! What else could I do? I pointed out the obvious to my “date” and watched as he slowly figured out that it was in fact true. He did not laugh. Instead, he simply stood there looking mortified. I felt more pity for him. Immediately I suggested that we go somewhere else. It seemed like a good, helpful idea. But at this moment my “date” instantly was demoted to the nickname “Short, Overweight, Balding and CHEAP Guy with a Gun.” He said that he had just paid for the cover and for our drinks so we were going to stay.

After all the concessions I’d made all night long, steam began to seep from my pores and I was ready to explode. I remained as calm as I possibly could as I told Chad that I would pay for us to get into any place else, but that we WERE getting the hell out of rainbow village and we were getting out now.

He agreed to my terms and we drove to another club. This place had pool tables, women and straight men. I sighed and ventured in. Chad made sure to remind me that he was packing heat in case there was any trouble. I just rolled my eyes and laughed in his face. I had pretty much had it up to my eyeballs with this guy and my efforts at being polite were waning fast. Quickly, we met a couple of guys who allowed us to join in their pool game. I am not a drinker so I ordered a Diet Coke from the cocktail waitress while “Short, Overweight, Cheap, Pitiful and Balding Guy with a Gun” headed to the back of a huge line at the bar, holding up our pool game. This turned out to be a good thing though, as I seemed to be hitting it off with one of the cute, sexy, charming, pool-playing opponents. Lust was in the air and our flirty banter implied a mutual attraction.

Chad finally came back, a little woozy, and the pool game began. Luckily, we decided to play the best out of three games, which meant my cute new friend was locked in for three rounds. Which turned out to be the best thing because when team “Me and Dork” lost, Dork, my date started yelling at me for losing the first game and then started pressuring me to take him to my house. When I told him that I would never take him to my house, he stormed back to the bar, returning with a couple of shots that he drank himself.

Things went downhill fast from then on. Chad could barely hold his pool stick steady, let alone sink any of the balls. He began making very rude, sexist comments toward me and continued to ask me when I would be taking him home so he could have his way with me. I continued to tell him that would not be happening. The final straw was when he whispered into my ear that I should remember that he was carrying a gun and that I had better plan to take him home with me.

Suddenly Chad became “Short, Overweight, Cheap, Annoying, SCARY Guy with a Gun.” I had to think fast. Chad was way too drunk to drive anywhere let alone to be carrying a gun. Cute, pool-playing guy, Brett, came up to me and asked if there was a problem. Apparently my fear was showing in my face. Chad pulled his gun slightly out of his pocket and told Brett to go away. Brett looked at me with concern and I mouthed, “Help.”

“Brilliant, Sexy, Pool-Playing Guy named Brett” at that moment turned to Chad, patted him on the back and said, “Buddy, let me buy you another drink.” He took him to the bar, sat him down, took his keys from him and handed them to the bartender. He informed the bartender that Chad had a concealed weapon then he grabbed my hand and my coat and we high-tailed it out of there never to see poor, pathetic, Chad again.

Brett drove me back to my car, gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and asked for my number. We ended up dating for a while.

Sometimes nightmares do have happy endings, but I still wish I had remembered to bring my pepper spray.