You can make a living in midget wrestling

I started talking with a guy who seemed ambitious and fun. His job description on his profile said “entrepreneur” which could mean he’s successful in his business endeavors, he’s a jobless loser, or he’s just a drug dealer. This guy, among having other sources of income, runs a midget wrestling company. I’m not lying. I don’t know why my curiosity and love for the strange possess me to meet people like this. I can’t explain the attraction. I wanted to meet this freak show of a guy.

We met on a Sunday afternoon at George Street Pub. He had been to brunch with friends hours before and got a little buzzed from drinking morning beers. I figured the buzz would have worn off by the time we met up. I was wrong. He was wasted. I didn’t realize this right away though. I’m not the quickest or best judge of people and their behaviors. I usually give people the benefit of the doubt, unfortunately. He bragged nonstop about how successful he was. He bragged about people thinking he’s from Europe because he dresses so well. He did not dress so well and his half British accent was so forced and fake, I was distracted by that and barely heard him bragging about his awesomeness and all the people he knows who are “REAL big deals”. I was also distracted by his big, brown, dead tooth.

Throughout our encounter he was getting more and more uncomfortable and drunk and angry. Apparently I have a “don’t give a fuck” attitude and my casual confidence was mistaken as aggressive cockiness. I’ve found, yet another, insecure little man who is intimidated by an independent and assertive woman. At one point he became so upset with something I said that he put his hands inches from my face and said, “Shut the fuck up when I’m talking to you.” Since he joked so much when we chatted on the phone and online, I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or being serious. I sat there shocked and confused when a man sitting next to us stepped in and told him, “If you talk like that to her one more time, I’m going to have some things to say to you that you really won’t like.” My date had a look of shock and disgust on his face over this comment. “Was that weird, or what,” he asked me. At this point I think everything is “weird, or what” so I just nod and sip my beer.

The man next to us left and the entrepreneur’s alcohol was really kicking in. He decided now was a good time to make a crude joke and aggressively grab me and squeeze me until he left bruises on my arms when I didn’t laugh. It hurt and I yelled at him to chill out which made him laugh and say, “Cunt bitches like you need to be taught lessons. I want to bend you over my knee to teach you.” At this point I’m planning my escape. Many of my friends have asked why I didn’t get up and storm out immediately. I’ve had far too many experiences with aggressive and violent men. I’ve gotten to the point, sadly, where I know how to play the game so I can safely get away instead of letting an already heated situation get worse.

I let him ramble on and on about how great he is for a bit longer. I asked questions about his dating past and he went on to tell me about two past restraining orders he had against him from “dumb whores.” I tell him I had to go take my dogs for a walk before it got dark so he went to pay our tab while I went to the restroom. When I came back he was signing the check. He told me more about how I should worship him and I said it was time for me to leave. He leaned over the bar and screamed at the bartender that he wanted to pay the tab. I tried to interject and let him know he had already done that when he shoved me away and informed me that HE was the man and was going to pay for us. The bartender then reminded him that we were all paid up. I said goodbye and walked out.

When I was about 15 feet from the door I noticed he was right behind me, insisting that he was going to get me a car and pay for me to go home. I saw a cab turn the corner near us and insisted it was for me and I was going to just take that home. The last thing I wanted was for this guy to know where I lived. I already have one restraining order on someone and didn’t want the hassle of going to get another one. The domestic violence courthouse is not a fun place and lately it’s begun to feel like it’s my second home. He leaned in to drunkenly suck my face off I’m assuming and I firmly pushed him away. It was then that I learned that “it’s unattractive when a little bitch doesn’t want to kiss back.” He also let me know that he wasn’t “feeling this” all night and we would likely never meet again. Through my obvious sadness, I said goodbye and went home. I saw him duck back into the bar, presumably to pay our tab again.

Within two minutes he started texting me and calling me. I ignored the calls and most of the texts but this went on for hours. The first message said, “You left??” He followed up with, “Where are you?? I’ll meet you.” After that I got, “Fuck thanks. We need to jhang our. lol, I can’t your. Those. Type. Hahaha. Yes or no?” These messages were all after repeated phone calls that I ignored. I finally replied and said that I was home and not leaving again. Rather than give up, he said, “Come over. To my house. I’m going there now. No worries. You should come over. Lol Call me. Call me. It’s only 8. You’re a fucking dick. What the fuck. So lame. Good hanging out.” The next string of texts and phone calls came later when he said, “It’s only 9. Legs go out. Let’s. Lol. Ugh you’re such a dick. I won’t call you again.” I responded this time with, “Good!”

He lied though. He called several more times and sent texts until 11pm. Finally I thought he was done for good. Twelve hours later I got a message from him saying that he was having a rough day and not getting much work done but thankfully he could force his peasants (employees) to do the work for him. I can’t say I was at all surprised by any of that. I know you’re all shocked, but I did not respond to that last text either. Finally the entrepreneur got the subtle hints I dropped and the messages and calls stopped.

Why do some guys get so angry and intimidated by girls? Why can’t they handle rejection? Why do they lash out if you don’t act the way they want you to or you voice your opinion? Why is there a need to control a girl or try to be dominant? Where does this anger or violence or possessiveness come from? Why are we “bitches” or “cunts” for not falling in line with what men want us to do?

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month and since so many “men” have abused me personally one way or another, whether it was sexually, physically, or verbally, I think this is a good time to share some places to get help if you’re ever put in abusive situations. With the “me too” hashtag popping up all over social media lately, I know I’m not the only one who has experienced abuse in dating and relationships. It seems it’s more likely that women have dealt with abuse than not.

After my soon-to-be ex-husband beat me and tried to kill me, I speak up more now and have never felt such a strong need to be transparent and open about everything from my experiences to my feelings on any topic. Call it a “don’t give a fuck attitude” if you want but we’re not here for long and you never know how quickly situations could escalate or who could hear your messages and stories and make changes to remove themselves from violence.

If you need help in Illinois:

Information, Options, Counseling, Legal and Shelter Services

Toll-Free. 24-hour. Confidential. Multilingual.

Phone: 1.877.863.6338

National Domestic Violence Hotline:

1(800) 779-7233

When you wanted to be the dumper but end up being the dumpee

I obviously was not a big fan of the guy who looked like a goldfish but I continued to see him when I was bored. He always showed up when I told him to and was a really good time when he wasn’t being annoying. It helped that he liked to always tell me that I look like the woman who plays the role of Wonder Woman in the new movie that was coming out. After our first week of hanging out, he sent me a text saying, “Happy one week anniversary!” I gagged. We got into a fight during that week too because he says really stupid things and interrupts people incessantly so I tell him to shut up and stop being a rude toddler.  He said that if we can get through that, we can get through anything.

He was also not a fan of the fact that I knew someone everywhere we went. He got jealous when I would talk to people I saw in public and started to resent me, I think. This lead to him picking on me for anything I said or did and he laughed about it when I got mad at him. When I asked him why he enjoyed pushing my buttons so much, he said I was just a spoiled princess who was used to everyone giving me everything I want and no one ever calls me out on my shit so he was going to continue to basically be a total dick.

Excuse me, Nemo!? I’ve worked my ass off for everything my whole life and never expect things from other people. No one calls me out on my shit because there’s no shit to call me out on! I can be a little (a lot) bossy sometimes but only when I need to be. Most of the time I get whatever I want from subtle manipulation so the bossiness doesn’t have to come out! I’m not a princess at all, either. How insulting! I’m a fucking goddess, dickwad.

I already planned to dump him that weekend when he would inevitably ask to see me. I would have done it sooner but I was in the middle of a 5 day drinking bender so it would have to wait. (Hey, it’s summer in Chicago and I’m single for the first time in years. I’m having fun! Don’t be a judgmental prick.) Saturday comes and he, of course, wanted to hang out when I got out of work. He spent the day on a boat with friends and told me he would meet me after he got cleaned up. I didn’t have to tell him where I was because after just a short time of knowing me, he assumed I’d be at my neighborhood bar since I didn’t have any plans. He assumed correctly.

By the time he showed up I was already hammered. I was not just drunk but straight up wasted. That’s what happens when you’re at the end of a 5 day bender, apparently. It doesn’t take much to get you there when you’re body is probably made up of about 90% alcohol at this point. Someone recently described this to me as the shampoo effect. A post in Urban Dictionary very eloquently explains this phenomenon. The fifth entry is my favorite.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shampoo+effecthttp://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shampoo+effect

My friend Alyssa met me as well and she had to explain the night to me a few days later since after they showed up, I remember nothing besides waking up on my toilet in the middle of the night with my phone in my hand. We apparently went to two other bars and Jon just kept picking fights with us and she and I did a lot of eye-rolling and had plans to ditch him. He started an argument about whether there were stray cats in the city of Chicago or not. (He doesn’t think they exist.) I think the topic was brought up because of  Alyssa’s bewilderment over pigeons who only have one leg and why they end up that way, but I’m not entirely sure. Either way, what a fucking stupid thing to argue over! Our plans to ditch him ended in failure. Somehow Alyssa ditched us instead and he ended up at my apartment around the corner.

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The only goldfish we like are our crackers.

 

When I woke up from my toilet nap, I shot him a text asking what the hell happened the night before and where he went. He explained to me that I irritated him because he knew I was in the bathroom ignoring him and he was positive I was not sleeping. So he left me in there and didn’t try to find out what’s going on!? Why the hell would anyone hide out in their own bathroom? I could have been dying! Maybe I was choking on my own vomit! Maybe I drowned! He just left me there to die like Elvis! Wonderful…Could you imagine how mortified you’d be in your casket after reading your obituary??

Just as I started typing my crushing dump message, he texts me to say we shouldn’t hang out anymore because together we are “explosive”. He goes on to tell me I’m like a hurricane or firecracker, and not in a good way. Also, I’m “terrifying” to him. I’m absolutely flattered by all of this but am PISSED I didn’t send my message first! It’s so unsatisfying when you’re looking forward to something so much and it’s taken from you in an instant! Either way it’s done though. I tell him good luck and to let me know if he ever wants me to destroy him in Pac-Man or Skee Ball again like I did on our first date. AS disappointed as I was for not getting to do the dumping, I never had to see Flounder again and that was a good thing.

(Side note: Does anyone else think it’s hilarious that I said “dump”, “pissed” and “explosive” in a story in which I slept on a toilet?? Literal tears are streaming down my face from laughing so hard. Also, I have a clogged tear duct right now so that might be why but, I still can’t stop laughing. Also, I swear I only peed before taking my toilet nap.)