Creeper McCreeperson: Pastor Dan, (also featuring Lying McWeird Face)

My Intro to Sociology course turned out to be Intro to Social Work. This class has taught me only one thing: I don't want to go into Social Work. It is (klakfkjdflf) interesting. The people I have met in the class are (lfhdsajfkldjf) interesting. The first day of class, we had to interview one member of the class for forty five minutes, after which, we would report what we learned. This creeper girl was desperate to be my partner. We walked to the hall and before we even sat down, she started telling me about how her brother is schizophrenic, how she was raped, I think by multiple people, along with what she told her rapists. She told me about how her dad died and what she did to cope. I feel really bad about all of this, but I sat there in shock. I really didn't know what to do. When it was time to interview me, what did I have to say? My favorite color, food, movie, oh and TV show! I told her about how I probably watch too much Sex and the City, Castle, and Bones. She told me about how she loves Teen Mom. Now I hate that show, but I didn't want to be mean, so I just said, "Oh yeah, I've seen it." After she asked me if I had a "boo?" I assumed that was a boyfriend, and I told her no, that I prefer to just go on a few dates with guys not get into relationships. Please note the key word, prefer. As in, I choose to be single. 

Time to report to the class! Of course she wants to go first. She tells the entire class I'm a sociology major who wants to be on a jury. (What?!?) She tells them that I've never had a boyfriend, (not telling about how I don't want one right now,) and that all I do is watch TV. At this point, I say aloud, that I do go out and that I do have friends. People giggle, then she continues. She tells the class that we both love Teen Mom. This starts some intense discussion about how bad this show and how negative it is for kids to watch it. My teacher began lecturing to me about how I shouldn't watch this show, THAT I DON'T WATCH! When it was time for me to talk about my partner, what could I say? She was raped... Yeah that'd go over well.
Oh first impressions.

Okay, so this date I had not very long ago was with an agoraphob*. I didn't realize it was a date. I was kinda trapped into it. He is from my Social Work class. I call him Pastor Dan, not because his name is Dan, but because he wants to be a pastor, and if you have ever seen Raising Helen you'll probably know my reference. Let me tell you something about Pastor Dan, he has NO game, what-so-ever. He leads me to believe that we will studying, when instead he turns it into some "date." We go to our college cafeteria, (classy,) and he begins to start some kind of banter. At least, I think he thought it was banter. Really he was just calling a loser and a transvestite with a man voice. Flattering in what way? He also told me that I have pretty eyes, but hearing me speak kind of over-shadows them. He said, I talk too much and with a man voice, it makes it even worse. He told me about how not too long ago he couldn't leave his bedroom for months because of his intense fears. He still has some issues with leaving. As y'all know, I'm a psych major. I know how debilitating that can be. I hope someday I can be trained in helping people with this, among many other disorders, but when comes to a first date, gimme a break. He told me about how he's the "Son of God, like Jesus' brother." Direct quote. And he wasn't saying it in a, "We are all brothers and sisters of Jesus," kind of way. He was saying it in a, "I'm the next messiah" kind of way. Yes, an agoraphob who wants to be a pastor and says he's Jesus' brother thinks I'm a transvestite. Hmm. 








*Agoraphob; Short for Agoraphobic: verb; Fear of open spaces, large crowds, being alone in public situations. This often restricts people to a single place, such as a home, and in extreme cases, a single room.

Creeper McCreeperson: Briefcase Boy

Last year, I was in an English class. There was this guy who was in my class. He had that bad boy look. Dark hair, tan skin, tattoos, five o'clock shadow; the whole works. The only thing, (at first at least,) that I thought was weird was that he carried a steel briefcase. He would also pull out mango's and eat them. Yes. A mango. If you have ever seen the show Sex and the City, you will realize how strange this is.* But besides that, he was hot, and he had a personality. He was smart and funny. Seemed great.

One day, he moved his seat from the other side of the room to right next to me. My lucky day. We were reading our papers aloud in a small group for it to be critiqued. He and I started writing notes about how bad it was. We got flirty and blah blah blah, he gave me his number. I took it, thought that I would wait a whole two days to text back, because Allah knows I have better things to do with my life than to text the hot guy in class, or at least, that what I wanted him to think. Basically, after the longest two days of my life, we start texting. Everything was great... So I thought.

After a little bit, I ask, "How old are you?"

His response?

"Guess." Ahh, HELL NO! Red flag! Red flag. If a guy plays this game, he's old. But, my naive heart didn't want to believe it. "No, just tell me." I don't want to play games, I just want a guy to be straight forward. He responses with a question, "Well, how old are you?" I thought I'd give a hint, going back to childhood with, "I asked you first." After way too many back and forth texts he finally admits, he is twenty-seven. Mmmhmm. I was eighteen at the time. I decided I should lie so he would back off more easily. I told him that I was only seventeen. As I waited for a text that was full of shock and embarrassment that he was going after a minor, (even if in reality I wasn't, I was close enough,) he just texted back, "Well, 10 years ain't that big of a difference."

AHH FUCK NO! Nope. Not doing it. Not taking part of that, child molester! I responded with, "Well, this makes me uncomfortable," and he just thought I was stupid. How do I know, because he then tried to convince me that he was lying and he was only 21. Nope. Not falling for that one, buddy. He continued to text me for a little while longer, because he wanted to be "friends." He even invited me to hang out once. What was his idea of hanging out? I quote, "You should come over to my house, we can lay on my soft blanket by the fire, as I read to you from my favorite book and you listen to my favorite radio station by candle light. We can share a nice big bottle of red wine."

I flat out responded, "I don't want to date you. And I'd like you to stop hitting on me." The funny part is in his response: "I wasn't hitting on you. I just thought that'd be fun for two friends! Get over yourself."

BAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! Poor old man, did I hurt your ego? Sorry, why don't you find some old lady at the home who is a little more your speed? Maybe one who's wheelchair has a motor! Ohhh!

Anyways, after all that, the class got awkward. Once, we were both late for class, I was on an important phone call with a friend in the hall and he was just late. He saw me, winked and went into class. My prof, who loved me, asked where I was, and Briefcase Boy answered for me. But, later I found out that he designed women's gowns out of leather. I died laughing. Learned my lesson. Well, not really. But I have yet to trust another person with a briefcase.




*The episode, Hop, Skip, and a Week to be exact. The episode where during jury duty, a man pulls out a mango from his briefcase. Same thing. Just as weird.