Those of you that know me probably know this story already. If you don’t know this story, pull up your favorite chair, bean bag or TaunTaun Sleeping Bag. That waters are about to get rough…
It was a bitingly chilly day in hell, you see, ski season was well underway, Al Gore had been robbed of victory and I, at the time, didn’t date older women, was about to go out with one… It started innocently enough. I posted a personal add on Craigslist. After sifting through the penis pics, I then posted to the W4M section of the site, mortified at what my male brethren do to attract women. On that note let me take some time to call that behavior into question: Why? Why do we men feel the need to send women a penis pic? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it for the bastardly evil act that it is… Really!
However, at what point does a guy get to a place where he thinks it’s okay to start flaunting what he is holstering? Perhaps while watching old reruns of Hollywood Squares a guy sees an image of Jim J. Bullock and then it inspires him to send off this awkward photo to the first woman ‘s pic that he sees on his online dating profile… Don’t worry; I’m not sure what’s wrong with me either.
Anyway, now that I’m in the right area, I get some interesting bites from women. One woman was clearly too old for me, at the time, she was well into her forties. Not my cup of tea. I was still in my twenties by this point. Another gal wrote me and refused to send a pic, which I specifically asked for, since I’d posted a pic. Gone! After a couple more replies I get this genuinely kind email from a gal named Janet.
Janet’s pic was nice, she was in shape and toned, she was well put together with an amazing smile. I couldn’t wait to meet her, even after our brief conversations.
Fast forward to date night. I drive from Orange County to Harbor City; she’s living in a pretty run down hotel. Now, she had said that she came to California to act and to get away from a bad relationship. “Okay, I get that,” I thought to myself, being understanding, I didn’t really pass judgment on this motel that was no better than the slum shanties you might see in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil or Desert Hot Springs (sorry, I had to take a dig there). I nervously rap on the door and not a second goes by when Janet flings the door open and gives me a gigantic hug. In the moments, mere seconds that followed I noticed the following: Okay, this chick just popped my back and not in a good way, ow! I noticed a discolored tooth, weird. She seemed a good ten or so years older than her pic indicated and I won’t tell you how many extra lbs. she might have been carrying. Janet exchanged pleasantries, I wanted to go home. Were I not such a puss at the time I think I would have face palmed this woman and made a run for it; but no, I was committed to ride this out to its conclusion.
Our first stop is at a Thai place she recommended that was, literally, an infant’s toss away from her shanty. The place smelled pungent and I’m being nice. We sit and I begin asking Janet about herself, that’s when I began to wonder if Janet killed this sweet girl in the photo that had been emailed to me. Janet was all too kind to talk and keep the conversation going. I wanted to rip my eyes out and choke on them. Mark McGwire had more fun in his Congressional hearing, where he refused to confess about his steroid use, than I was having. The whole time I couldn’t help but stare at Janet’s apparently dead tooth, now caught in the embrace of a chunk of chicken. I said nothing to her about the food stuck in her teeth. I had officially checked out. Janet suggested we go to Redondo Beach to get a drink, I was a willing accomplice, and a drink seemed like a great idea…
Oh yea, the drink was a good idea until one of the bars we went to she was promptly told by a pissed off whiskey-slinger “Hey! I told you, you crazy Btch, you’re not allowed her and get the fck out!” Nice. There was an El Torito where we sat for a couple drinks, to Janet’s credit the woman is a talker. I learned that she has two kids and, according to her, a bi-polar and violent husband waiting for her in Texas; he may as well have been Prince Charming as far as I was concerned. A few drinks later she pulls me on to the beach and being playful, I’m really not feeling this date and I want to leave, but can’t seem to muster the gusto to really say “Look ho! I needs to go!” Instead, I stick around and watch Janet step in tar. That was funny. I suggest she go back to her place, so she can try to get the tar off. Noticed I did not say “we.”
We get back to her humble shanty of love and I leave the truck running, as I tell her I had a good time. Then Janet insists and pleads with me to come in and help her get the tar off her foot. Sexy! We go in, and the place smells of cigarettes, lotion and… Bengay? It was an odd combination and Janet’s slice of hell was adorned with clowns. Creepy clowns. We get to her restroom and I’m trying to scrub the tar off her and to no avail. I suggested peeing on her foot and she looked up at me with a weird “I'm kinda turned on right now” sort of look… Disturbed by the reaction, I turn and exit her bathroom. Janet follows me and turns me around and says, “Hey, let me show you something.” I reply, “Nah, that's okay, I don't need to be shown any more stuff right now. ” Janet insists and pushes me with her linebacker strength on to her bed. Wide eyed I look up at her and she's holding something in her hand, with a cable attached to it. Keep in mind there are no lights on and creepy clown faces on her walls. She says, “You're gonna LOVE this!” She clicks a button on this device when I hear a low deep sounding hum. At first my legs start to shake and vibrate, the humming and buzzing gets louder as the vibration reaches my lower back, higher and higher the sensation moves and louder the buzzing and humming get. For whatever reason, I feel paralyzed to do anything; the humming is really loud now as the sensation moves up to my neck.
That's when this loud crackling sound erupts from behind me and bright sparks shoot from behind my fcking head and a searing pain and burning sensation scorches my left ear. I roll over, writhing and just really spooked by the sudden blast to my ear. Yeah, so Janet was showing demo-ing her massage pad on me with the fcking thing short circuited behind my head. Nice. I sit up and Janet hops on the bed to check on it and wrap her body around me. At this point I'm done, I say “Look, I gotta go. I have a thing with some kids or something; old people. I dunno, I just have SOMETHING.” As I get up to leave, Janet uses her linebacker arm and Tanya Harding legs to keep me on the bed and she's being playful and trying to kiss me, I turn my head and we roll off the bed with a loud thud, all of her weight on me of course.
I stand up rapidly and dust myself off and make a b-line for the door. Then Janet sits up, leaning on her bed and says, seductively, “You know, I like you. All my other dates f*ck me on the first date.” Nice, really nice. I reply, “Oh… well, how cool is that? I really need to go. Call you sometime! Bye!” I jump in my 86′ Nissan Pick em up truck and hit the pedal and go as fast as that little four banger would take me…
I was forever changed. No more dates with chicks from Harbor City going forward. I didn't go on another date for about three months. This woman straight up traumatized me and I realized that Craigslist ads required a special review process… Wow.