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.
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