I Was Stalked By A Lovecraftian Horror
I've always hated to say that someone is really ugly, but this girl absolutely earned the label. To borrow from Claude, a friend of mine, she's taken an entire ugly journey. She fell out of the ugly tree and hit every ugly branch on the way down. Then an ugly lumberjack came by and cut down the ugly tree which fell on top of her. Then he cut some ugly branches off and beat her with them again. Then an ugly dog came along and took a piss on her. It goes on and on. I need to get Claude to give me the whole list of the ugly journey. It's horrible, and you'll love it. Suffice to say that the ugly journey applies to this girl. She was hideous.
But I was willing to work around it. Even after she hugged me.
I wasn't going to have sex with her. But I was thinking hey, friends.
So we all sat down to dinner, myself and Rachel and her two parents. I forget what the hell it was that her mom did, but her dad was a projectionist at the dollar theater. They had such a huge hold on her life that I was immediately disgusted. Being the good actor that I am, however, I managed to actually act like I was interested in what everyone had to say and that they weren't a collection of freaky motherfuckers who needed to be placed inside a cavern deep within the earth and never, ever let free. (Side note - the restaurant that Rachel insisted we eat dinner at was recently the site of a brutal murder. Yeah, she's got some good taste in restaurants, there.) So we sit, we talk, I try to force food down even though I'd lost my appetite. Her dad goes to get more food. She goes with her. I'm alone with her mother.
Her mother demands to see my driver's license.
Okay. What the fuck? At some point did I pass out and wake up in Fuckyland? Had this woman gone completely insane? But the bad part is that I was only mildly shocked. I mean, my imagination had absolutely kicked into overdrive at this point, and I expected them to bind me, gag me, throw me in their trunk and drive me to a secluded cabin in the woods where they'd proceed to sedate me, rape me for weeks, and then cook and eat my bruised and battered corpse. Asking for my driver's license wasn't really so weird to me at that point. I obliged.
"I'm a license looker," her mom said, as if that made it any less goddamned weird.
She glared at my license with her beady eyes for a minute, then handed it back to me. Rachel came back and was only mildly embarrassed. I've got to give her a little credit for having nerves of steel; if my mom ever did something like that I'd have her committed to a mental institution and I'd demand that they give her multiple shock treatments on a daily basis. I was incredibly horrified by the end of the evening, and Rachel made her parents leave us alone in the parking lot for a minute so that she could hug me and try to get a kiss out of me. I lied to her blatantly and said that I don't kiss on the first date. That's pure bullshit. I've kissed before the first date before. I've kissed girls that I haven't even wound up dating before. I've kissed girls who have just wanted to kiss me. But hey, she didn't know that it was bullshit. She respected that, and my tongue respected the fact that I wasn't putting it anywhere near her mouth. She insisted that we should get together again soon, without her parents.
At this point I wanted to give her a second chance because I'd lost my mind.
Tip for guys - a second chance is not always the best of ideas.