That Time I...Went on a Really Weird Date

 

Two summers ago I was houseless.  There were 15 days between the end of my lease with the rock sniffer roommate and my lease with the blood fetishist roommate.  Foolishly I was living but not living with my then-boyfriend while waiting out those long and painful 15 days. 

Painful because we didn’t communicate well at the best of times, so adding stress and emergency cohabitation only made things worse.  Before I moved in he hadn’t mentioned that during his standing Saturday dates with his other girlfriend I would be kicked out of the apartment.  She had her own apartment so I’m not sure why it was necessary to make me find a second place to live on Saturdays.  Except that they were playing a long-con gas lighting game on me that I didn’t realize then I was a part of.

So in order to fill the time on these long lonely Saturdays I went on dates.  One of these strange weekends found me at a vegetarian bar (because Portland) having drinks with a young guy who hosted a political show on KBOO radio (also because Portland.)  The second I saw him in the real world I knew there was no chemistry.  He was scrawny and unshowered in a hippy dippy way that didn’t do anything for me.  But the conversation was interesting and I didn’t have anywhere to go if I left the bar so I stayed for two drinks.

We both admitted to being tired so he asked, “Do you want to come back to my place for a nap? Nothing more, just laying down together.”  Right then, that was the sexiest thing anyone could have asked me.  Fuck yes! I hadn’t had a nap since becoming a nomad and I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep on account of then-boyfriend’s intensely painful snoring.

So I went back to KBOO’s apartment.  We lay in his bed and spooned. It was fine and all boundaries were being respected so I thought he would be one of those rare guys who says “let’s just nap” and means it.  Just as I was drifting off he asked, “Do you mind if I take off my shirt.”

Half asleep me said, “Yeah whatever.”  And I went back to drifting off only to wake up to him stroking my back. So without thinking about it, I rubbed his back in return, hoping he’d stop moving soon so I could sleep.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me of my grandma,” he groaned.  My eyes popped open and I stared at the wall over his head, never more awake and alert in my life.  “Don’t stop.  Oh that’s good. My grandma had the best nails. This is so erotic, thank you.”

I ran my nails down his back for a few moments longer while I processed that. Did he say the words grandma and hot in the same sentence just now?  Yes, yes he did. It’s time to get the fuck out of here.

Patting his back grandmotherly, I untangled myself from his legs and made an excuse for needing to leave.  The kid was so invested in the moment he insisted on walking me to the bus stop.  So I’m stuck with him waiting for a fictitious bus which I ride for two stops just to get away from him before walking back to the coffee shop I had planned to spend the afternoon in writing.

I’ve been called a lot of things but that was my first (and hopefully only) time being called grandma.

Emily BinghamComment