HAHA! Rape! 2: Rape Harder, the Electric Boogaloo. Of rape.

I'm a pretty attentive person. I'm usually well aware of all my surroundings at all times. You never know when an insane woman from your past will decide to come bursting through the window with a flamethrower, ready to scorch you for scorning her.

It's typically why I avoid phonebooths

I try to defend myself by keeping my back to the wall. That way, I know nobody can come at me from behind. It's the first rule of being an Auror, after all. CONSTANT VIGILANCE. The strange looks I get whenever I'm in Target are better than having my stolen belt tied in a noose thrown around my neck. You just can't keep your hand at the level of your eyes all the time.

Well, the other night I was hanging out with my friend Mike. Mike is a good guy. Like any other filthy, no good, worthless Scotch-Irish nicotine-addicted drunk, he needed to get some cigarettes and I decided to accompany him. I'm just that good of a friend. We pulled up to the gas station and are sitting in his car for a few moments because he "wants to hear the end of this song, dammit!" I just shrugged it off and decided to stare at the people already inside the gas station. Man, I think, Those people are ugly. I'm glad I'm not so ugly. I don't even know what I would DO if I were so ugly! Hoho.

Beautiful.

Mike finally finished whatever the hell it was that he was doing and we went in. I paid no mind to the uggos sitting on the other side of the building. My good friend spent a few minutes discussing the intricacies of smoking cigarettes, the flavors and whatnot while I stared off into space. I'm much too sophisticated and attractive for such disgusting habits. And honestly, while I'm at it, I'm too smart to do something that damaging to my body. I would never do something like that. Ever.

I came back to reality to find Mike having completed his mission and was walking for the door. At that very moment, I got a better look at the people I had been staring at earlier. For some reason, something in my mind went "SHIT!" My conscious mind caught up with my unconscious and I also went "SHIT!"

Apparently she developed a hump back? What.

You know how when somebody's staring at you, you sort of feel it and then you look their way? And you know when you see something that really scares you that you freeze up and don't think straight? Well...

At this point, I actually did say, "SHIT! SHIT, MIKE, WE NEED TO GO! SHIT!"

Mike immediately got ready to fight, thinking that one of the guys Madame was with wanted to brawl or something. His adrenaline was pumping and he got red in the face, looking for the fight. He asked why, where was it at, what was going on. I simply said, "FORGET IT, I'LL TELL YOU AFTER WE'RE GONE!"

So we left. And by "we left" I mean "I sprinted out the door, drawing even more attention to myself and hoped that nobody noticed while my friend took his sweet fucking time getting to the car" By the time we were moving, I was in a frenzied state of screaming profanities and hoping that our car wouldn't be thrown over by an absolutely furious woman. I can't remember for sure, but I believe I told my friend something along the lines of 

 

SPLGHAFK! is "That-inese" for "SHITSHITSHITGETMOVINGSHITSHITSHIT"

Cool story, huh?

Mr. "Details So Heavily Altered for the Sake of Drama That This is Legally Fiction" Sandwichman

HAHA! Rape! Get it? A Horror Story of Single LIfe

There are some things you just don't joke about. There are some things you just don't talk about. These things often over lap. If it makes people uncomfortable to talk about, you probably shouldn't be cracking jokes about it because people will then think you're unbalanced.

You.

I've already mentioned once before that abortion is not something that you should really bring up on a whim. That gets into politics and then everybody gets upset. There is one topic that people can universally agree on, though. That topic is, of course, rape. And how it's bad. And how you should never, ever ever  take it very lightly. You also shouldn't threaten people with it.

Guess what today's story is about.

I was once again using a certain site in utter desperation. On this particular site, I found that girls tend to be catty and want to be contacted first. Because, y'know. Equality. Anyway, having a female initiate a conversation is typically reserved for spam-fembots sharing their porn sites with stupid men. Those men then fall into the trap of visiting the site and having their organs harvested days later. On this day, after a string of bad luck, a girl contacted me. Shock! A girl was actually interested in me!

We talked for a bit and she didn't seem crazy. But of course, they never seem crazy until you meet them. By that point, it's too late! You're in the spider's web. You're crazy-person-food. Or, in okcupid's case, you're a crazy person's living masturbatory tool. Since I lacked any sort of sense (having yet to learn from previous experience), I decided to go ahead and meet up with this girl.

A few days later, we went ahead and met up. The first thing I noticed was that she didn't stink. This was a major step up from Abortion Girl. I wasn't really attracted to my date, but ehh, oh well. Might as well give her a decent night, right? I expected that we'd have from the time we met up to the end of the night by ourselves. We didn't. After a half-hour of chatting, she revealed she had to go pick up her kids from day care.

Well. All right. She's responsible. That's good, right?

All right. So, we went and got her kids. Since they were so young, I was dragged along in her minivan

OSHI--!

Normally, I like to have access to my own car. That way, if something happens and I need to leave, or if I get so uncomfortable that I want to bail, I can do so on my own terms. I was stuck in a minivan with someone that I was very slowly getting more and more uncomfortable with. A few minutes later, we were at her trailer. I don't live in a mansion. I'm not some fancy-pants high-dollar writer. I'm a young adult living in a modest house. As such, I don't expect much from the people I hang out with. If you're on a date, though, you typically want to impress the person you're with at least a little bit. A trailer is not a good way to impress someone.

I don't judge, though. Despite more and more redflags coming up, I press on. I'm just really courageous like that. We go into her house and I get to meet her mom. On the first date. And they get into an argument. On the first date. Not a reasonable argument like over money or childcare. No. They argued about whether or not the girl's mom would please leave.

Interesting note, this particular individual happened to be 21 years old.

They bickered. I started feeling more and more awkward. I finally proposed the idea to go get my car real quick so it wouldn't be parked in front of the store we met at all night. This, fortunately, got me out of the fire zone and out on the road again.

Now, me being the gigantic asshole that I am, I had a few problems. I'm pretty damn shallow, so I didn't exactly want to be seen in public with her. I'm also a coward, so I didn't just want to tell her I had to go and she couldn't come along. I made the totally wise and not at all dangerous decision to take us somewhere not at her house, not at my house, and not quite in public. What made this situation even better? I'll tell you! She had spent the entire night staring at me lustily. If I hadn't told her that I didn't want to rush into anything, she probably would have jumped me then. I dunno. I try not to think about it.

"Hey, there's no mention of rape here? What gives!" Hoho, foolish reader. Didn't you notice how I said "first date" throughout?

"Oh man. Please tell me you didn't---" I did, reader. I did. I regret it, but I did.

Date 2

Nothing remarkable happened. We met up. Watched a movie together. She stole my belt. Wait, what?

Yeah. She figured that Second Date wasn't going too fast any more and stole my belt. She went home pretty quickly after that. I still haven't gotten that belt back. I don't want it back. I can only imagine what it's being used for.

I wonder...

DATE 3: The Incident

Her: "Hey, my mom's at a friend's house tonight"

Common Sense: DON'T DO IT! STAY THE HELL AWAY, YOU IDIOT!

Me: Hm. I wouldn't mind some company. "What would we do?"

Common Sense: NO! Ugh, why do I even bother?

Her: "Watch movies at my house ;)"

Friends, I have a piece of advice for you. Never trust the winkie face. Never. Ever. Ever. The winking smiley tells you that the user is implying something more. Something secret. Something like sex.10 times out of 9, it means sex.

Me: "Eh. Okay. I'll be there in a few."

Well. I got to her house. She let me in and we sat on her couch for a while, watching some stupid tv show. She was, uh. Frisky. I was not so much. The whole "I don't find her real attractive" thing played a large role in that. Being a young adult male, however, there are certain ways to get around a lack of physical attraction. It's really not that hard. You probably know a few. If you know your victim's particular tastes, you can take control without any problem.

She spent a lot of time trying to get me in the mood. She did most of the work and I just sort of let her. Innocent fun, right? Nobody's getting harmed. I remained strong enough to keep her from removing any of my clothing. After I shot down a couple of her attempts, she finally pulled out the big guns. She did it.

In the ensuing chaos of the Discomfort-o-Meter exploding, I got the hell out of there. I had just been told that she wanted to rape me. This had come from a person who claimed to have been raped when she was younger. My question to you is this: Who the FUCK uses that as dirty talk? "I COULD JUST RAPE YOU" is a turn off to fucking anybody with any fucking resemblance of sanity. "Hey, I know somebody who has a rape fantasy" Yeah? Have they been raped before? No? Then they don't actually want a RAPE fantasy, they want rough sex! There's a slight difference there. Can you spot it?

Here, let me help you!

"Oh, now slap me!" vs. "Make a fucking noise and I slit your throat!"

And that is why I've chosen to be single for a while.

Wherein I realize I have standards: A horror story of single life

My particular walk of life has left me in a situation where I don't get many chances to meet girls. As such, I take what I get and use whatever resources I have available to me. For every intent and purpose, my standards aren't exactly high. I also don't get too many opportunities to meet girls that I can actually ask out. My life revolves around work and  being an anti-social shut-in that spends too much time writing for a blog that has a whole one follower. My problem, as mentioned before, is that I don't really know how to ask a girl out even if I met one I liked.

So, there was a period of time when I resorted to a certain, unnamed dating website that I have decided to devote this random poem to.

Only for the desperate

Kind of makes you want to die

Causes a deep-seated hatred for humanity

Um.

Phuck, I didn't plan this out very well.

I don't care though. I'm making a point.

Don't judge me, dammit!

Ahem.

You meet interesting people on-line. However, there are multiple kinds of "interesting" and they're not all good.

In fact, the overlap between "interesting and from the internet" and "interesting in a manner that I like" looks something like, I dunno, this:

And so I fall into predictable graph jokes

So, where does a girl on a dating website fall? If I'm talking to them on a dating website, then that would suggest she's in the blue, right? But she's from the internet, so she'd technically be in the red. Red and blue don't mix.

As I have learned, you probably shouldn't meet people from the internet. The exceptions happen once in 500,000 users and those usually end only in regrets anyway.

Today's story is about one of those that don't fall under "Exception." Unfortunately, this is just one of many.

I had just gotten out of a relationship (re: broken up with) and wasn't, um. Stable is a good word, I suppose. I'm not the type to get "unstable" as in "Hoho, I'm coming for you!" as much as I get unstable in the "Hoho, I'm going to meet a stranger from the internet!" sort of way. Which is exactly what I did. There's really no covering this up and making me look good. It's not going to happen. So, here's what went down.

Never trust a big butt and a smile

Okay, a lot more went into the conversation than that. She also challenged my manliness. Also, she said I looked like a This instead of a That. Homey don't play that. Having been challenged and being charged up just enough by Testosterone, I went and met up with the girl.

"But, Mr. Sandwichman!" nobody protests, "What if she turned out to be crazy? Please tell me you met her in a public place so that if she turned out to be a serial-rapist-castratist-murderer you would at least have some witnesses!"

Right, of course I did. I'm not that foolish. I met her at a library and we proceeded to drive around town in my car. Alone. While I realized she may not be a serial-rapist-castratist-murderer, but she was indeed crazy. From the very start, I knew something was slightly off about her. For one, she looked nothing like her profile picture.

What I Expected:

What I Got:

My MSpaint skills never cease to amaze

Next thing I noticed is that she smelled bad. I won't deny the fact that I'm not always the best smelling person. I spend a lot of time in a state of social anxiety about whether or not I'm offensive to the olfactory sense. I don't expect girls to smell like daisies, cinnamon rolls and unicorn farts all the time. However, having B.O. that is worse than a men's locker room after a rousing round of forcing each other into awkward positions is just a bit of a problem.

Oh, yeah, and then there was the fact that she told me about her abortion. On the first day we met in person.

"Wait, what?!" Yeah. That's pretty much what my reaction was too. I didn't even ask for that information. That's not the kind of thing I want to know right away. If I had asked or said anything that even possibly related to the topic of abortion, then I could maybe see her coming forth with this information. That is somewhat reasonable. But, if you've read the previous two posts on this blog, then you'll probably figure that nothing in my life is ever fucking reasonable.

I believe the best way to convey this story is with interpretive dance. However, I don't have a camera to film that with. Nor do I have the patience to draw the entire thing on MSpaint. Just go ahead and feel slightly more sophisticated if not slightly more uncomfortable for having watched a magnificent dance about abortion. It's okay to feel awkward, though, because that's how normal people feel abortion is taken so lightly.

So, instead of a terrible dance that would make people feel terrible, have a dramatic, slightly exaggerated script of what went down instead.

(Mr. Sandwichman and Abortion Girl [A.G.] sit down in a chicken-eating establishment, neither feeling terribly comfortable about the greasy food or each other)

A.G.: So. What do you like to do in your free time?

MS: Well. I, uh. I like to read and write a lot. I haven't been doing much writing lately, though. No inspiration.

(AG gets a look on her face of "I could be your inspiration if you know what I mean, wink wink nudge nudge saynomoar saynomoar)

MS: I'm a huge movie buff. Uh. I play video games if I'm really bored.

AG: Ooooh, I play video games too! What's your favorite one?

MS: ...uh. Th-the one... with the magic.. and.. stuff?

AG: Kingdom Hearts?

MS: Sure.

(Allow AG to improvise at this point, going on a massive spiel about how certain characters in the game are probably having sex even though nothing in the damn game even hints toward that)

MS: ....

(Other patrons in the eating establishment start looking at the two oddly. MS feels all sorts of shame and decides to get back into the privacy of his car. AG hasn't stopped about various assortments of pixels "mashing buttons" if y'know what I mean)

MS: Right, so uh. Have you met any other guys on that site?

AG: Oh, yeah! You know when you have an abortion or a miscarriage you're supposed to be on bedrest for two weeks? Well, the last guy I met from {name removed} wanted kids and when I didn't have his he broke up with me.

Okay. Pause. I thought "Shake it but don't Break it" was bad. I thought that was something you simply couldn't recover from. How do you respond to "Shake it but don't Break it?" You can't! BUT! That's not nearly, nearly as bad as being told that your previous boyfriend left you because you had an abortion. On the first "date" and I really struggle to call it a "date" because it lasted the entirety of an hour and a half, most of which was me driving to meet her and then driving to drop her off. Seriously, WHAT

THE

FUCK

Moving right along.

This actually happened before my DON'T BREAK YOUR DICK 

incident, so I really had no idea what to do in that situation. Fortunately enough, at that very moment when things couldn't possibly get any worse (Well, y'know. Short of being post-partum aborted.) a friend called! His car had broken down and he needed a ride to the shop! Salvation! And it was the truth, not something insane like me texting that very friend earlier when I realized things were going down the toilet telling him to call me immediately and bail me out! Because that would be a douchebag thing to do.

And that's why I'm still single.