We found ourselves in an interactive exhibit built out of an old hot tub. Sitting on the benches, we amused ourselves with the questions about California that the exhibit provided, before he paused to answer a text. "Sorry," he said, "I made plans after this because I didn't know if you'd be crazy. Do you want to go have a drink with my coworker and I?" It sounded like a terribly awkward situation, but a drink sounded delightful, so I agreed. Minutes later, we were being kicked out of the museum as it was closing time, and to the bar we went!
Things started to go decidedly downhill once we arrived at the bar. He was weirdly condescending and several times toed the line of outright racism toward his Latin American coworker, which made both the coworker and I noticeably uncomfortable. He finally moved past this sort of need to puff out his chest and prove himself the bigger, badder dude, and the three of us settled into a nice conversation. This soon began to be interrupted by what seemed to be, bafflingly, attempts to prove his dominance over me. It started with a sterner-than-necessary, but still what I naively thought to be innocent, request for me to sit closer to him. A few minutes later, he demanded that I change my sitting position. Moments after that, he simply reached out and grabbed my hand, placing it around his shoulders. I must have looked visibly unsure of how to proceed with this unsavoriness, as his coworker cleared his throat and said he'd be soon calling it a night.
Mr. Charming paid the tab (but not without remarking how expensive it was, prompting both of us to offer him money. He brushed it away, saying, "No, no, it's the price of living in the city!"), and we headed to his car. Upon arriving, he handed me a piece of paper with his full name, phone number, email address and street address on it. "This is in case you feel the need to verify that I'm a decent person." Oh. Okay.
He then began pressuring me to make other plans for the evening. "I don't want to go to any bars. I chose the last place, so it's your turn to choose." I stated that it was probably too late for a movie, and the only other thing open would be a bar, so we should probably just call it a night. He tried to convince me that if I wanted to, we could prolong the evening by offering me three options:
- Hang out in the car. Inadvisable, as cars are uncomfortable!
- Drive to the hills. Inadvisable, as it's chilly outside.
- Go to my house. No foreseen downsides!
"Oh! You use the same body wash that I do!" he proclaimed as he stepped into the living room. That's odd, I thought. I'm pretty certain I closed my shower curtain before I left the house, as is my usual habit. He'd have to had intentionally looked in the shower to find it, tucked in the corner. He didn't leave me much time to ponder this as he somehow folded his nearly 6' frame inexplicably into my lap, where he proceeded to tell me everything I didn't need to know about how he conducts relationships. He explained for a good 5 solid minutes that he was exploring poly relationships, and why he was pursuing them. I politely waited for him to finish, and then gave him a terse smile, advising that I wasn't interested in nor equipped to deal with poly relationships, sorry.
Thankfully, my response got him out of my lap, but only to move onto the couch where he quickly back pedaled, stating that he'd never actually had a poly relationship, and he was only interested in them in theory. He then went on to state that all he really wanted was a family, and spent the next 10 minutes telling me all of his emotional issues, and how they affected what he wanted in his ideal family dynamic. When he was done, he looked at me and said, "So? What do you think?" As if he'd given me all of this information, and that somehow meant I was required to either except or reject him on the spot. At a loss of how to react to this (although, looking back, I should have said, "REJECT! Have a nice night!"), I shrugged and said, "Wow, that was a lot of information."
Apparently, he took this as a positive marker, because he then kissed me. I'll admit, he was a surprisingly good kisser, so I went with it a moment, and then said, "Listen. It's late. I need to be up early...." "Fifteen more minutes!" he announced. Um, what? No. This process repeated itself three times before I forcefully stood up and said, "I REALLY need to get to bed." He looked hurt, and then indignant, and finally said his goodbyes before leaving.
If nothing else, I've learned that if someone needs to use the restroom, there's a perfectly good bar across the street.