The ex-bastage was an alcoholic (a 'nighttime' alcoholic, as it were) who tended to ruin every romantic night. It was my birthday and, of course, Dick Head wanted to go the bar. I was OK with that because there was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise and our relationship was pretty dang codependent anyway. While he sat at the stool inscribed with his name on it (jk) I drank a nice golden lager and attempted to make small talk with him. His buddies were there, of course, and these people weren't your everyday, run-of-the-mill type drunks. These were nightly drunks, guys who lived well. One was an artist, formerly a contractor. The other was a contractor. The biggest problem with the fact that they were well-off was that they talked on and on and on about how smart they were while we sat there. This was no different than any other night I nursed two beers just to be with Dick Head, Jack, mind you. It's just that watching them drink and spout off about their own abilities - artistically, in terms of business, and in the sack was intolerable. And then, natch, I'd have to put up with them coming on to me like pigs. Both were married and sometimes brought their wives. (There were others, but I'm already losing my story. :-P)
Anyhoo, there I was, watching David (the boyfriend) make a complete @ss out of himself and worse, recognizing how the others thought him inferior because he didn't own his own business. He was forgiven because he and his ex had once but that judgment of him never seemed to let up - though he hardly noticed it unless sober, and sober was a rarity. These guys, including David were all 'older'. I was 21 and David 44 when we met. Yeah, gross, I know it. Now here we are, let's say, oh, 26 and 52, sitting at barstools surrounded by all the other old people. One guy I had met before was there too. He was a car braggart, you know the type. "My car, blah, blah, blah, 8-engine blah blah, 37 million miles to the blah. Blah." Still, he was commiserating with me, seemed to feel badly I was in such a pickle on my birthday. He invited me outside to look at his pretty car. By that time I'd had 3 pints which pretty much means I was drunk as a dog whose water bowl is filled with Jim Beam. I'm a lightweight. I looked at David questioningly. He was being loud-mouthed with his friends and could have cared less what I did. He made this very clear by saying "Yeah, go, get out a bit, you're ruining my night." Stupidly, I agreed to go, just to have a look-see.
Me just having a look-see wasn't what this jerk had in mind but I let my alcohol-filled thoughts get the best of me when I considered the options and figured "Hey,no big deal, let's check out his Vehi, he's being nice.".I looked the car over, cooed and nodded a bit, patted its red top and started to head back inside. "You've got to check out the interior," he told me. "Get in. You've got to feel this engine to believe it." Jacky, I knew then that something was very wrong and yet he was between me and the passenger door and suddenly I couldn't think to do the right thing - scream and run (or just run). I opened my mouth like a guppy for a second or two, thought about pushing my weight (I was about 103 at the time) against his fat-burbling frame to get past him, and got into the passenger seat.
He was in the driver's seat before I could even shut my door. He drove off immediately and I shut it as we moved, my heart beating so fast I thought I'd just burst and die and perhaps that would be the better thing. I wondered then why I didn't just roll out of it but split-second choices aren't for thinkers. He told me he wanted me, put his hand on my thigh, ran it up. I shrinked from him and begged him to take me back to the bar. He told me I wanted it, had it coming, every line in the Rapist Handbook. I wondered if he'd kill me. I begged some more and told him that the police watch that pub and would know I was gone (because I was such a commodity to the town, y'know :-P). I moved his hand away from me. He moved it back. I removed it. And then, for whatever reason he took me back. He didn't rape me, didn't kill me (obviously), just kept his big chubby hand on my thigh and drove back toward the pub. Actually, he dumped me off on the side of the road. I opened my door quickly and fell out, stumbling and then running. He had started to speed once we got near the pub and I thought for sure he'd grab me and... bfft. Bye-bye Thricey. He gunned his engine and disappeared.
So, back to the hugely romantic part of this whole story. I went back inside to the bar, white-pale and scared out of my mind. My legs were like jelly. I stumbled back to the stool next to David (which had already been filled by some other greasy old dude). I told him what happened. I begged to take me home. I was pretty dang shaky. And guess what? He said no. Said it was my own fault for going outside in the first place. Said I deserved whatever I got and I was lucky this guy hadn't killed me. He KNEW the guy. Never went after him. Granted, he didn't know the guy well but at least knew what kind of car he drove. I wanted to call the police but couldn't think straight. I didn't even know what kind of car it WAS and Dick Head was certainly in no mood to tell me. I could have taken a cab home and didn't. I was suddenly scared to death of cab drivers, of anyone unfamiliar driving me anywhere. I could have walked back to David's house but didn't, for similar reasons.. The bastage wouldn't take me home until about 5 or 6 drinks later. I begged him to walk me home since he was drunk as piss. He refused. I let him drive me even though I knew how unsafe it was, not just for him and I but for every unsuspecting driver on the road. I excused it by telling myself we weren't even two whole minutes from the house by car. David was already in Dickland and slurred something about not wanting to sleep with a 'whore', then stumbled upstairs and fell into bed. I couldn't sleep anyway.
THAT is my most un-romantic story ever... er, story. Sorry it went on so long. It feels kind of good letting someone else know about it. (((Jack)))
· 1 decade ago