Creepers Episode 4: The Needy Jerk Epidemic Part 1

Before I start, let me make it clear that I now have a boyfriend. My boyfriend is a man I that I pined over for too long while he ‘grew up’. He is still in the process, but everyday with him is a thousand times better than a million money-makin’ creep stories.

Nextly, lest us discuss the NEEDY JERK EPIDEMIC. Single ladies, (Even the not so single ladies) know what I’m talking about. (Yes, maybe even those heavy hitting Christian ladies whose parents pick out husbands for them might even know what I’m talking about…) There seem to be an abundance of men who are not only jerks, but then turn out to be really fucking needy as well.

Let me share a few examples from dating experience past:

Needy Jerk #1. College. 2009.: Let’s call him PRECIOUS. Yes. Precious. Precious bleached his teeth so frequently that they glowed in the dark and for some reason thought it was totally acceptable to don Abercrombie & Fitch from head to toe at the ripe age of 23. Precious was all douche-flirty at a party I was at. He told me I should be a model and then told my friend she should dye her hair back to its natural color. Not sure how this young lad obtained my number, but a few nights later I get a phone call from him asking if I could pick him up from the bar. My friend with dyed hair had ditched me earlier to hang out with some other needy jerk, so I was game for some chauffeuring.

I waited for him and saw him emerge from the bar literally beating drunk girls off of him. One stubborn one held on until he got to my car and he opened my door a crack and slid in and she just kind of eventually slid off. He skipped through the CD that was in my car and screamed like a small child: “OMG SNOOP DOGG!!” He gave me really botched directions to his house and when we finally got there he got all weird and handsy-hands and when he realized I was not into it he started BAWLING. I asked what was the matter and from his snot bubbled mumblings it was a cross between all of his past girlfriends cheating on him and his dad’s disappointment over his quest for a real-estate license. He still tried to get all handsy-hands despite his epic pity party, so I swaddled him in his cologne scented blanket/towel pile like a wee baby until he fell asleep and BOLTED.

The next morning, I was standing in on some retarded middle of nowhere college art critique when my phone would not stop going off. Low and behold it was Precious Captain Bleach Teeth. I got around to calling him back and he was exploding at me because apparently, somebody side swiped his roommates car, and the only logical suspect was little miss sober sensible pants me. He demanded to see my car… I said yeah go look it’s in the top corner of the parking ramp by that big black graffiti penis… He was like nooooo come over! I was like no way cry baby and hung up. The dude kept calling. He called for like 3 weeks ‘just to talk’. It was the freakiest shit ever. He’d be like “heeeey what are you up to? I’m going to the bar wanna hang out after?” Finally I just lied to him and told him I was actually a man with no penis. He believed me and I have not had to deal with him (Or return to that god forsaken middle of nowhere college) since.

More to come.

Creepers Episode 3: The Long Haired Creeps

Once again, in a land far far away in the desolate midwest, I encountered another creep. I guess he wasn’t THAT creepy to me, but to the naked eye he was off the creep charts.

I had not seen this young man in awhile, he was a friend of a friend’s. Him and his other long haired creep companions invited my friend and I to their… ‘studio’. I’m pretty sure they had become heroin addicts at this point, but that’s normal in the midwest. People get really bored and depressed and wonder why summer went away. Anyway. The events unfolded as such:

Phase 1: Black Sabbath.

Upon arrival, the long haired brigade went into a female induced tizzy. They didn’t understand why we had come. (To enjoy their odd company of course… and they invited us…) So they decided to turn on some music. And as good little long haired creeps should, they decided to first soften our eardrums by blasting Black Sabbath at us. (Small room. Large stereo. Back to 1973 we go!) My friend and I pretended that we enjoyed going deaf, while the three wise men stared at the wall, occasionally making a weird squinty orgasm face that looked like it was followed with a ‘sense of accomplishment’ face. Half way through ‘Master of Reality’, they turned off the stereo.

Phase 2: Playing guitar.

One of the creeps had shut off the stereo. He NEEDED to play guitar. So we all sat in silence and pretended we liked his acoustic noodling. It ended after he dropped his lit cigarette through one of his pant holes.

Phase 3: Heavy Flow

The acoustic noodling opened a Pandora’s box, and suddenly the three creeps were scrambling around the room and turning on all the amps and the subwoofers. Uh oh. They turned all the dials to ‘loss of bowel control bass’ and started to play. It sounded heavy. It had a flow. It was like the soundtrack to my period. I tried to tell my friend this, but of course we could hear nothing over the bass, and suddenly she just started yelling heavy flow at the musicians. They stopped playing and she was still screaming “HEAVY FLOW! HEAVY FLOW!”

“Hey man. Isn’t that like… a tampon vocabulary… thing?”

“Nope…”

Phase 4: Lady's Turn.

I snatched the drumsticks away from the elfish looking dude and my friend wrangled a bass away from the 95 pound weakling and we began to jam at them, see how they liked it. They went to bathroom to shoot up. ‘How rude!’ my friend exclaimed. They came back and were somehow under the impression that I was this fantastic drummer. (It’s pretty easy to play drums ‘heavy flow’ style…)

We got bored. We left.

Phase 5: The Unique Proposition.

My creep texted me later that night. His text read:

“Hey girl lemme play yo pussy like a trombone”

Sigh.

Creepers: Episode 2.2: The Beautiful Creep Makes a Move

I’m sure those of you who have read my other posts came across Creepers: Episode 2, the story of the gorgeous man who turned out to be more looney than a toon. Of course, I didn’t learn my lesson, so I went to hang out with him again.

Let’s begin our story with the fact that he texted me before 9am on a winter vacation day. Why any 20 year old guy would be up booty calling at 9am is beyond me. Hey freak don’t you know the sun out? Go back into your man cave until winter grants us a 4pm sunset.

Of course, upon arrival, our friend the gorgeous creep opened the door to let me in and before it even closed he had bolted to his bedroom. He was still in his short shorts pajama ensemble, and I’d imagine since it was now 10am and no one puts pajamas back on after a shower, his balls were still itchy.

We did some morning baking, and once we were all baked out we just sat there awkwardly, staring at the television, which was off. (I don’t mind awkward. In fact, I live for uncomfortable situations.) He toyed with his nuts while I poked around his DVD collection. The sun was out so I suggested we go for a walk and bake elsewhere. Judging by his famous ‘I may just shit my pants right now’ expression, that was going to be a big fat NO.

I sighed and poked around in my purse, hoping one of my ladies had texted me to hang out so I wouldn’t have to tell him the hurtful truth: ‘I’m bored and you haven’t made a move so I want to leave.’ When, suddenly, he spoke!

Him: “Sooooooooo… would you like to…….. give………. me a blow job?”

I honestly thought I was hearing things. No one actually comes out and says this to a woman, do they? I say nothing and look over at him and the ‘I just shit my pants’ expression crawls across his gorgeous face when suddenly, he blurts:

“I’M SORRY I CAN’T GO DOWN ON WOMEN!!”

What on earth is this man babbling about?! Convinced this was too goofy to be real, I closed my eyes and pondered if I should bolt out the door or jump out the window. Which exit would wake me up from this nightmare quicker? When I opened them, he was two inches away from my face with his eyes slit, mouth parted, and his tongue peeking out. I yelped like a lap dog and uncoiled from the position I was sitting in rather quickly, which launched him far far away to the other side of his shoe box room. I couldn’t help but wonder what his illusive brother thought of all this while he hid behind closed doors in the room next to us. (Never saw his brother. Heard him snoring once…at 6 pm… That was it.)

I informed him that it was time for me to go. (My excuse was that I wanted a sandwich, and he obviously did not have enough ingredients for me) He got all pissy-pants and said ‘See you next time!’

Unfortunately, this was the last time I would visit him. He had a few fights with himself in my texting inbox a few times after this however…

Find the first part of this story here!

Creepers: Episode 2. The Beautiful Creep

I have a problem. I seem to attract weirdos whenever I venture into public or if I dare to start up a conversation with a stranger.

Rewind. I am sitting in a pointless general education class. (General Education Class: A more expensive version of the same exact class you took your junior year of high school) I always sit by the back window. That way I can watch what’s happening outside AND I can watch the back of everyone’s heads. There is one particular head I liked to watch, and that was because it was attached to these amazing muscular shoulders and on the other side was the face of a mythical god.

As weeks went by this gorgeous being attempted to talk to me but at the time I thought his horrible social skills were just due to shy-ness… or nervousness… never in a million years did I think this dude would turn out to be probably the most bat shitters person I ever agreed to hang out with.

Phase 1: Dude invites me over to his house for some innocent Lutheran fun. This somehow includes:

Upon arrival, he was wearing short shorts. I’m not sure if they were supposed to be posed as boxers or what. He bolts straight to his room and flops on his bed. (smooth move asshole) I quietly sit on a chair in the corner. He rolls over and begins playing with his balls. This happens on and off through out this creep encounter.

Watching him play Minesweeper (That game that comes default on most windows computers… Who even plays Minesweeper? Avidly?!)

Watching him watch some weird stadium inauguration that he made it apparent he was very upset about missing.

Finally, I called him out on his shenanigans. “Hey man, I’m your guest and you're making me sit here and watch you play fucking MINESWEEPER. At least be more obvious about your rudeness and play Solitaire or some shit!”

After this I had obviously flustered the young man. I asked him (honestly) if he had a hint of some sort of social disorder. He got really mad and flustered about that question and informed me he was burning a CD. I asked if I could decorate the CD, he looked at me as if I had just pinched his mother’s butt.

After the CD was ready to burn, he thrust his laptop at me and said I could play Minesweeper. He left the room and I started playing Hearts. He came back snatched his lap top away and left the room again, leaving me sitting there wondering if I was having some funky erotic dream.

A minute later he pokes his head into the room, and this is how our endeavors came to a close for the day:

Him: “I need to make a sandwich.”
Me: “Okay.” (After my response his eyes bug out like I just kicked his dog.)
Him: “I’m. Making. Myself. A. Sandwich.”
Me: “Do you need help or something?”
Him: “NO. I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH INGREDIENTS  FOR YOU!”
Me: “Oh that’s okay I don’t want a sandwich…” (Like I’d ever eat a sandwich from this crack pot.) At this point, the man looks as if he is about the shit his pants in frustration.
Him: “YOU HAVE TO LEAVE!!!!!!!!!!”

Now why didn’t he just say that in the first place? Or the real question, why didn’t I do that myself earlier?

There are more stories from this fella. Ya’ll just wait.

Creepers: Episode 1. An Introduction to my Creep-fest.

Before I begin I should make one thing clear: I HATE when people visit me while I am at work. I am usually in situations where I am being paid to a shit load of mundane tasks and chatting about them as a feeble attempt at small talk is not one of them. If you happen to see me, a simple 'Hello!' will suffice.

My jobs always include some sort of customer service, AKA, dealing with people. I use my 'work voice' (my stranger voice) which is friendly and misleading, because my real voice is too mumbly jumbly for anyone to understand.

This 'voice' that I must resort to using misleads old creepy men into thinking I am totally interested in every last dull creepy thing they have to say to me, causing them to linger and in turn causing me to laugh uncomfortably which IN TURN causes them to call up my place of employment posing as my dead grandpa wondering what my address is so they can 'send me gifts.' The biggest thing that gets me deep creeped is probably my uncomfortable laugh, which leads me to make this point:

Men, boys, dudes, and creeps alike: If a woman is laughing during a conversation with you, there is only about a 20% chance that it is a SINCERE laugh. The other 80% of laughs are either out of total and utter discomfort ("Does he not realize that I am here, in the park, reading alone because I WANT TO BE FUCKING LEFT ALONE?) or out of politeness ("I am thankful that I am talking to this nice young man in the sweater vest as opposed to the herd of leering bros who think its totally okay to shave off all of their body hair and go 'woooo!' every 30 seconds.)

Of course there's always my "I love you mr. boyfriend but I think you said a joke and I am not paying any attention to you because I am playing Peggle so I will let out a chuckle. What's that? Your mom lied to you about having diabetes? Oh. Never mind."

Anyway, even without my awkward laugh, my stupid 'work' voice, and my boyfriend hovering over me, I still manage to get creeped on. These are my stories.