Tinder-crossed lovers
A night with my stalker
BRITTANY AND KAI
KRYSTAL AND NIKO
t began like any modern Shakespearean romance: he swiped right, I swiped right, and we matched. Tinder-crossed lovers. His profile was simple and intriguingly vague; just one photo and a witty bio that caught my attention for a fleeting moment. His opening line was just as obtuse: “I give it a week…” A week until what? Until you get me in bed? Until I’m so sick of you I unmatch you? Until I swoon at your feet? Well, I like a challenge, so I replied: “I give it 24 hours…” And it was on. The conversation was electric. He was intelligent, witty and the undercurrent of sexual chemistry was pulling us both under. Despite this, there was substance and character to our banter. But he revealed that he had recently split with his wife of 12 years, and was not ready for anything serious. I had recently ended things with another suitor and the prospect of some harmless fun was too tempting to pass up. So when Friday night came around, we organised to meet for espresso martinis. As it happened, the chemistry was not reserved just for our online chat. It spilled over into real life and the sparks flew immediately. We talked for hours, like there was no one else in the bar, and finished far too many espresso martinis. There was no discussion needed on how to end the night: we were in an Uber and back to my place within 15 minutes. He spent the night and that was it. I called my girlfriends the next morning and giggled as I regaled them with my one-night stand story. Until, a week later, it became a two-night stand. Then a third. Then a regular booty call. We set clear rules: no feelings, just great sex. But rules were made to be broken, and the feelings developed. We should have walked away then, but the sex was too good and the chemistry between us kept pulling us back in. But it wouldn’t be a Shakespearean tragedy if it ended in a happily ever after. He wasn’t ready and I knew I deserved more. And so after a tense conversation, we ended it. I got all the anguish of a relationship ending, without ever having had the relationship in the first place. It stung to lose something I’d never had. I still miss him and find myself rereading our messages after a few glasses of wine on a lonely weekday night.
t was a Friday night and, after a long week at work, a girlfriend and I decided to head to Brisbane for the night, get a hotel room and see what the city had to offer. We were both single and very much ready to mingle! But we were clear on the rules: we both meet a man or neither of us do! She had been speaking to a guy who worked in the city and was keen to meet with him, so the focus was on me to find my prince charming. We moved from bar to bar, downing an array of martinis, and chatting to some particularly unappealing male suitors. Frustrated, bored and slightly intoxicated, we were ready to give up. Then along came a guy who I vaguely recognised but who definitely recognised me. He was E.X.C.I.T.E.D. to see me — that should have been the first red flag. I remembered he had added me on Facebook a year or so ago, we had gone on an awkward date and I ended up hoping to never cross paths with him again. He had tried for a second date but I never replied to his messages. He pulled my girlfriend and I over to the bar and bought us two drinks each, clearly trying to cloud our judgement. It worked. He proceeded to tell me how I was even more beautiful than he remembered and how he follows me on social media. He knew I’d be out (darn that martini I had posted when I checked in to the bar just around the corner an hour before). He was obsessed and clearly my number one fan (or stalker!). But the drinks were flowing and my judgement was foggy. He was charming enough and available, so he would do. We left and my friend’s date met us at the hotel. We went off to our respective rooms and that’s when I realised I had made a terrible mistake. This guy knew way too much about me (reality check to me as I didn’t realise how much I posted to social media) and he was in love. We kissed a little but he was drunk, smelly and becoming arrogant. I told him no and he didn’t listen. He proceeded to explain how in love with me he had been ever since our date, how he’s been waiting for this moment all his life. I was horrified. He tried to force himself on me, stripped of his clothes and I firmly kept mine on. I asked him to leave over and over again. He was annoyed and drunk, so he headed out to the couch and fell fast asleep. Not what I had in mind, but at least he was out of my bed. My friend heard snoring coming from the couch and realised my night was not going as well as hers, so she came in to check on me and I confirmed her suspicions. We agreed he needed to go — immediately! We woke him up, forced him to get dressed and he was not happy. We basically shoved him out the door, shoes in hand, and, as he left, he tried to slap my girlfriend. Yep, he turned into that guy. I blocked him off all social media; afraid he would see where I was at some stage and turn up with a ring to propose engagement.
Moral of the story: Don’t fall for your booty call.
And it was on. The conversation was electric. He was intelligent, witty and the undercurrent of sexual chemistry was pulling us both under.
Moral of the story: Don’t booty call a stage-5 clinger, no matter how desperate you are.
19
March 2018