Another Saturday night rolls around, it's been a solid two-three weeks since we first met, and in the meantime, I've met don't-judge-a-book-by-its-cover guy. I'm at dinner with some college friends, which tends to be an early night kind of crowd, so I make plans to meet friends in town. I leave a message for my southern gentlemen and tell him that I'll be in the neighborhood later, and that I'd call to see if he's out and about. Well, during dinner at my friend's house, my phone must have rung no less than a thousand times, seriously. So I talk to him, tell him I'm heading out, and he suggests I meet him at a "party" at his friend's place. I was early and had some time to kill before my friends emerged from the sporting event of the night, so I figured why not. This party was just a stone's throw from the arena anyways. My friends could join me there after the game.
So, I know in my past I've had the reputation of being a bit naive, but I thought that I had outgrown it. I show up at this "party" only to find him and a couple of friends hanging out watching more college football and drinking. He was exceedingly affectionate, which objectively I would say is quite flattering. It was an awkward grouping. I don't like public displays, and his friends appeared to have the personality of a rock. There came a point where they (the friends) went into the kitchen, and it was suggested that I don't look. Yes, there were hard core drugs in use that night. My gentleman declared he had never nor would ever use such substances, but had no problem drinking his weight in alcohol. Now, I wasn't about to go call the cops. I wasn't born yesterday, I know these things go on. But the night was beginning to spiral, my friends had left the game and were now at a local bar, and I was getting antsy.
So we leave with me as designated driver. The memory is faded, but for some inexplicable reason, we stop by his place before heading to the bar. It was in the neighborhood, but I'm sure it wasn't merely a show-and-tell visit. We got to his place, and he poured a glass of wine for each of us. Now one thing I remember from our first meeting was the physical chemistry the two of us had. This is a very important aspect of a relationship and should not be taken lightly. Well, that night was no different, except that the moons had aligned that day and pretty much guaranteed that there was a hard and fast line that night. I was not to be toiled with, completely. Never have I felt physically threatened until that evening. I have traipsed down urban streets on my own, drunk, and felt completely safe, but that night I was hanging on by a mere thread. Any time I objected he kept telling me to relax. Any time I tried to escape he overpowered me. There was a distinct moment where I felt completely helpless. I was at the brink, and I refused to be a victim. I gave a defiant no, I'm leaving, which certainly killed any illusion of any mood. I was apologetic implying that it's my fault, I shouldn't have gone upstairs with him, blah, blah, blah. Respectable people don't get accused of rape, attempted or otherwise, and I was trying to avoid that sentiment. There was much drinking involved, things started getting out of hand, but bottom line, they didn't. Night's over, let's move on.
Which was what I was thinking, night's over, I'm meeting my friends at the bar. Except that it wasn't over. He insisted on joining me. So there we were at the bar having yet another drink, meanwhile my friend's are within shouting distance and we're not talking to them. Now, there were still moments as we sat at that bar, as he ordered drink after drink and quite often without even touching the previous one, that I was still indescribably attracted to him. Physical passion is a dangerous thing. But I couldn't deny the fact that I was experiencing first-hand a complete and total train wreck, and I had to leave. I walk out the door, twelve untouched drinks later, bid him goodnight, and leave. I could finally breathe. I was proud of myself for not waiting for him to decide to go, to take control of my happiness and at that moment most importantly my safety.
The icing on the cake of the night that will live in infamy in my mind came the morning after. I got a message from the gentleman asking where I had disappeared the night before. My simple response, "don't you remember me saying goodbye?"
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