Despite Jonathan's closet libertarianism and blatant douchebaggery, a couple of days after our initial get-together I was horny again, and decided that perhaps I was just overreacting- and even if I was, who cares about the conversation when two people are using each other for sex?
Thinking with my vagina dentata never does end well...
I showed up at his apartment around 12pm, only to be greeted by a porch full of strangers and Jonathan sprinting out the door, shirtless, to tell me that he was changing so I should wait on the porch. Awkward small talk commenced while I waited, and soon realized that his friends were just as douchey as he. Jonathan came out, dressed in a baby blue polo shirt with the collar popped, and proceeded to make fun of my purple and black striped leggings. Oh, the irony.
I discovered that they all had plans to walk to a local bar when they all abruptly stood up and started walking, so I reluctantly followed, wishing I hadn't driven out there in the first place. When we got there, the group sidled up to the bar, leaving no stools left, so I sat at an adjacent table, alone. This is about the point when I started texting Tiffany my S.O.S. After awhile, Jonathan came over and tried to read my text that said "OMG WTF WHAT A DOUCHEBAG WTFFFF" so I awkwardly clicked out and tried to make small talk. Jonathan decided to take my phone and start playing Oregon Trail. I laughed, thinking he was joking. Oh, no; libertarians never joke. He played Oregon Trail on my phone for ten minutes without talking to me. TEN MINUTES of sitting in silence, staring at this fuckwad while he giggled lovingly at my phone. These are the lengths I will go to for some poon.
Things got better when we decided to go to another bar with drinks I could afford with my $2 and play a round of darts. Hanging out ensued, and we headed to Jonathan's room at the end of the night for some much anticipated sexing.
I received ten minutes. Then, Little Jonathan decided he didn't want to play anymore. Big Jonathan, however, tried to convince me to work with Little Jonathan. Little Jo received NOTHING. After a brief stint of me trying to get Little Jonathan to come out and play, I gave up, told him "I'm not toiling over your drunk dick," rolled over, and went to sleep.
You'd think it was over then. You'd think.
I woke up the next morning to find Jonathan already awake, so quiet escape wasn't possible this time. Nonetheless, I made an excuse to GTFO, but Jonathan asked if I'd give him a ride to his brother's house, saying it was only a couple of minutes away.
A "couple of minutes" meant ten, fifteen if you factor in the FOUR TIMES I had to slam on my brakes and turn around because motherfucker had no idea where his own brother lived. When we finally got there, I was fuming. But of course, Jonathan has trouble picking up on obvious social cues, so he invited me to meet his brother, to which I flatly replied, "no." He kissed me goodbye before I could turn my head, and got out of the car.
I drove home that day with a newfound respect for my own desperation.
With all of these warning signs, I still went back a couple of days later, which became a story for a different day. Why. Why. Why. I AM STUPID.
-Jo
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