THE SKATER AND THE PSYCHO

Ever had one of those weeks where it seems that every creepy, idiotic, cracked out whack job in the known universe decides to unload all of their neurosis on you? Well, welcome to my life. It seems that with each avenue I explore in my quest to heal myself, I run into a man who tries to beat me back down again. I am a magnet for these people; no matter how hard I try, that huge neon light above my head that reads ‘Dump Your Shit Here’ is still blinking for the whole world to see. I know that I am the main reason for my sign still being operational because I keep hoping that one day the spell will break, the frogs that I keep kissing will disappear and my prince will arrive. Well, I’m tired of waiting, and the frogs are still lined up at my door so I think in order for me to finally unplug my sign I am going to have to do something I should have done along time ago. I am going to walk away. I am so tired of gearing myself up and getting myself ready for the same old song and dance. In fact my last two encounters have proven that not only am I ready for another sabbatical from the dating world, but that I need to do it for the sake of my sanity.

Let begin by saying that I have always had a penchant for the ‘bad boy’ type. In High School I looked for the boy who got kicked out of class for smoking, the boy who wore Doc Maartens, listened to Skinny Puppy and who pretended to not care about anything. These boys were the flame and I was the moth. So perhaps I was looking to take a walk down memory lane, perhaps I was trying to re-capture some of my youth, or perhaps I was just out of my mind, but when I met the person I now call Skater Man-Child, I was completely taken in.

Skater Man-Child works as a production assistant on a very popular TV show that films here in the city, and he spends what little time he does have off traveling the country with his pals and his trusty skateboard. Skater Man-Child had an innocence about him that I put down to his Devil May Care attitude; he simply enjoyed life…or so I thought. Our first and only date began with him offering me a toke of pot…while he was driving. Just wait, it gets better. After that little incident he took me to a pub that can only be described as a dive and proceeded to knock back five pints of beer in very quick succession. The evening got even worse when I found out that not only did he have a girlfriend waiting for him at home, but that he also had a ten year old son that he refused to pay child support for. As soon as I heard that I got up from the table and asked the bartender to call me a cab. He followed me out of the pub and asked if he could come back to my place as he was in no shape to drive, and was completely flummoxed when I declined his offer.

"What in the world would make you think I would want to take you home?" I snapped, as I got into the cab.

"I dunno, you just look like that kinda girl."

I wish I could say that my next encounter was better but it wasn’t, it was much, much worse. I was running late to meet a dear friend when he stepped out of nowhere and stopped me in the middle of the street. From what I can remember he was smartly dressed and carried a Blackberry; I had no reason to suspect that he was unhinged in any way, but I was soon to find out how wrong I was. He started by asking if I was single, and then went on and on about how beautiful I was, how sexy and how charismatic I appeared to be, and that he had to get to know me. I have to admit that I was flattered, but not flattered enough to give him my phone number. In my mind I was thinking ‘yes, he’s charming, but so was Ted Bundy’, so I decided to play it safe and only gave him my work number. Big mistake. Not only did he phone, but he phoned a lot, and he would only talk about how good looking I was and how he wanted to make love to me the moment he saw me. It really frightened me so I told him that I was busy; I took down his number and vowed not to call him back. Another big mistake. When I came back from my weekend off I was told that he had called over and over again, and when he called that night I politely told him that I wasn’t interested, and that’s when the explosion occurred. I call it an explosion because that’s exactly what he sounded like, a cannon aiming right for me.

I was told that I was selfish, conceited and cold. I was told that I should feel lucky to have someone like him calling me and asking me out, that I should feel lucky that he wanted to make love to me; he was looking for someone serious and obviously I wasn’t serious about anything at all. He was so mad that I could actually hear him seething through the phone, and that’s when I got really scared. He continued to berate me but I wasn’t listening, all I could think of was Ted Bundy. I finally hung up on him but he continued to call and hang up all night and all of the next day; I made sure that I was never alone when I left work and walked with my best Fuck You, Don’t Mess With Me attitude at all times.

I learned two very important lessons from my encounter with the Psycho: Never give out any information, and never second guess yourself. If he sounds like a psycho, then he probably is and should be left alone. So to make a long story short, this encounter is to be my last for awhile. I am officially taking myself off the dating market, so all you potential frogs out there can bugger off back to your lily pads ‘cause this gal ain’t kissing you anymore.

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