Let me just start off by saying this was very clearly supposed to be a one-night stand.
It was 12:30pm on a Saturday night, I was in the smoking section waiting for my friend and some nitwit decided to make a comment that my white hair made me look like a Neo-Nazi. To which I went off on a big rant and informed him that my grandfather was a POW so I took particular offense to that comment.
In front of me was a tall, dark haired guy who laughed and shook his head and the guy’s belligerent comment and remarked, “You really don’t know how to pick up women, do you mate?”
He and I stood and talked for a bit, he bought me some beers, we ended up making out, and he came back to my place.
The sex was weird.
He was really loud, grunting and guttural. I had just got the outline of my sleeve the day before and he proceeded to drag his nails across my back and arms to the point I yelped out in pain. I just remember being annoyed by the entire ordeal because he smoked and the smell bothered me. I was drunk and frustrated, so at one point I just rolled on my stomach to block out the grunting.
About half way in my roommate came home and stumbled into my room without knocking and he was still inside me…He rolled over and I shrugged it off as she went on drunkenly rambling about making us all pancakes in the morning.
He was overly affectionate as I don’t like cuddling after sex, I don’t like to be spooned all night, in fact, maybe just head out after we’re done, is that cool?
The next morning came and my roommate stumbled out of her room with a tit hanging out proclaiming she was in no state to make breakfast so the kiwi and I took coffee orders and went down the street. He held my hand, which always make me uncomfortable because to me, hand holding is reserved for people I care deeply for, as silly as that is.
He told me about growing up in New Zealand, emigrating in Canada, his business, his band and political stance.
His was a nice enough guy, just at that point in my life I was far too emotionally unavailable for what he was looking for. The four of us went out for breakfast when he and I got back, like a weird little one-night stand fucked-up family.
Kiwi asked for my number during breakfast, saying he wanted to take me out and get to know me better and I mumbled my number as my roommate teasingly pinched my leg under the table.
So, we went out.
This was one of the first few dates I’d been on since being single, aside from the post-sex brunch with the Australian. I posted a story on Snapchat about being sober for a first date and The Australian promptly sent me a sad face upon seeing it…even though he had rejected my attempts at seeing him.
I was stupidly nervous for some reason. Probably because I market myself as having no feelings and having a hard exterior, only to be immensely sensitive to others, especially those close to me, and almost over-caring what people think.
Kiwi saw right through me and proceeded to call me on my bullshit.
He then told me he was recently separated and in the process of ending his seven year marriage.
He was 29. Had been married for 7 years to a woman who was 10 years his senior.
His openness made me open up a little about my ex. I’m told the jump from 5 years to seven isn’t that extreme so we had some overlapping stories. She was addicted to oxycontin, mine liked to binge drink and punch my face in. I opted to leave that last bit out.
Over the next few weeks my roommate convinced me to invite him over for dinner, to drinks, with the idea that she could get him to foot the bill for us because he was into me.
I was pretty uncomfortable with the idea because I knew that what he was looking for wasn’t something I could provide, but regardless, I did it. He was overly flirtatious and boisterous with me as I would want to talk to other people when we went out, but he would constantly make a move to kiss me or hold me which made me incredibly uncomfortable.
He confronted my roommate saying he didn’t know what he was doing wrong or how to get me to open up. She told him that I liked teasing, and to be playful with me.
He took that as an opportunity to call me a cunt and a mooch.
I told him to go fuck himself.
Play time over.
Flash forward a few months, he sent me a text message after Christmas wishing myself and my roommate Happy Holidays, I told him that I kicked her out for various reasons and he admitted he never really liked her anyways and we should get together. I took the bait, he took forever replying to my messages so I left it alone.
Two months ago, same thing, “Hey, we should catch up! When are you free?”
It was a Friday night, I was living on my own, he invited me to come see a show about four blocks from my place.
Fuck it, I went. We danced, drank, had a stupid amount of fun. For some stupid fucking reason I opened up to him even more about why I was so emotionally closed off and I told him it annoyed me when he pretended to be someone else. I told him that I wasn’t looking for a relationship when he and I met, but he never bothered to ask me.
We hung out the rest of the weekend, got brunch, went for a drive. It was weird, nice, but weird. He then told me he was moving to Ontario to flip houses and I should go with him.
I told him that wasn’t going to happen.
The week I went to Nicaragua he moved to Ontario so we never had an official goodbye but I drunk messaged him a few times when I was in Tamarindo that I missed him to which he replied, “Hayley. I don’t mean to be harsh, but this can’t happen. We don’t live in the same province anymore. You’re a great girl, but it won’t work.”
I didn’t message him again.
Sure enough, he messaged me asking me about my trip. I asked him about his move, it was cordial but not flirtatious. I mentioned that I was thinking of going to Miami with a friend so she could meet up with a guy friend of hers.
Turns out, he knew that male friend and he just so happened to love Florida. I jokingly told him we should meet up.
He messaged me to ask him to check out the website for his new company, I gave him some feedback, he messaged me showing me a map of all the states he’d been to so far.
“You got me beat.” I replied.
…And then he blocked and deleted me from Facebook, and I’m assuming my number because he hasn’t messaged me since.
To this day I still can’t remember what his dick looks like, and honestly, I just don’t understand men anymore.