A Surprise Visit From a Not-So Ex Girlfriend

Original post date: 8/21/2013

I was 18 or 19 and working at a bar in Phoenix as a cocktail waitress. The bartender was a bit older…at least 30ish…I think? Don’t quote me on that. Whatever the case, he was significantly older; a friend of a friend who became a co-worker who became a seriously creepy fuck.

So homeboy had this girlfriend. I’d met her. She was sweet (kind of) but an emotional drunk and completely out of her mind; insanely jealous and such—but in her defense, he didn’t really treat her very well either. Or at least from what I recall/was told.

He and I flirted at work. When his girlfriend wasn’t around—she would come into the bar and drink and pretty much hawk-eye every female in the room—he would sext me from across the bar. This was pre-bad-horrible-jackrabbit-omg-please-get-it-out-of-me sex so I was totes into it and reciprocated, because why the fuck not? I wasn’t going to go any further than that knowing that he had a girlfriend, but eh. Whateva.

A few weeks after I started working there, he tells me they’re broken up. I’m like “Cool dude, now we can go to sexytown and I don’t have to worry about the craycray.” So we make plans to hook up. Boom, right? Gonna get mine, right?

Nah man. Just a super no on that one.

The evening comes and I go to his place. There wasn’t much in regard to foreplay; I think he went down on me, but failed like many men do—unfortunately, most men think they’re good at it and about half the time it’s just a huge disappointment. I wonder if there’s a “Cunnilingus for Dummies” book; if not, I’m writing it.

I think I went down on him (if I did, I played like a champion obviously. I mean this isn’t amateur hour. Bitch please.) I slept with him only that one time and it was awful, jackrabbit bullshit sex that lasted MAYBE 10 minutes, all of which I spent thinking about how it was a mistake and that he was actually unbelievably repulsive. Mind you, I hadn’t slept with that many people so I didn’t have a lot to compare to, but what I knew was that it was not good and I was just wishing it would stop. And just when he says he’s about to finish and I’m relieved the worst was over…he SCREAMS my name. During his orgasm. Which made me feel gross because it was heavy and I couldn’t really breathe and I kind of wanted to set him on fire. So that made it worse.

I get up and get dressed, preparing to get the fuck out of there immediately, when he says “Oh fuck. She’s here.” This grown ass man stood there, phone in hand, looking absolutely terrified. He’d received a text from her that said something along the lines of, “Hey I’m here and I brought dinner.”

This guy. This fucking guy jumps over to the light switch and flips it off. I ask what the fuck he’s doing and he shushes me with, “She’s outside, she can’t know we’re here or she will fucking kill us.” I ask why it mattered if they were broken up and he’s like, “We’re not broken up.” And I’m like, “YOU MOTHERFUCKER” and again, he told me to shut up. I shut up. But only because I knew he was serious about her killing me in cold blood.

We stood there motionless for five minutes until he tells me to RUN out the back door, through the yard and to a side gate leading to the front where my car was parked. Motherfucker told me to run. To fucking run. Run away from my “ex” girlfriend or she will fucking kill you. Even now I get pissed about it. What a fuckingfuckface.

After that, he would not leave me alone. I ended up quitting the job because he would send me the most disgusting text messages—and I’m no prude; if it fucks me up in the head, it’s gotta be some heinous shit. Once he even bribed me with an ID he had taken from someone and since I wasn’t 21, I was nice so he would give it to me, but then he started being a baby, saying that I was using him. And I’m all, “’Wahhwahh my pussy hurts.’ Shut the fuck up you repulsive wooly mammoth.”

And I never talked to him again. The end.


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