Okay, so I have a story. It's really the only story I've got but it's a good one. I think...
Recently was my one year anniversary of the last time I got some action. Like, any action at all. A year.
As someone who has needs but is bad at making things happen, I turned to the internet for a little help. I was successful at creating an honest profile and advertising myself, but most of the responses I got were from MUCH older men, married couples, or freaks.
One evening I checked the inbox and noticed I had received a message from one guy who was 35. 35 is 13 years my senior, but did I care? Obviously not.
This dude was commenting on my pictures and my interests and seemed very excited that I rode a bike.
The guy and I messaged back and forth for a while and then agreed to go for a bike ride that weekend. He gave me his phone number and left it up to me to contact him. I appreciated this.
I called him that Sunday night and suggested we meet up and go for a bike ride with some wine. Maybe I was a little naive, I thought this was a nice way to get to know someone new and did not really expect it to move as quickly as it did in such a short amount of time. He obviously had expectations. Whatever.
So we decide to meet in front of a graveyard that was equal distance from both our houses.
I got there shortly after 11 and stopped outside the gate. After a minute or so I hear a "psst! psssst!". I look into the graveyard and notice a figure approaching me. I wheel my bike inside and he locks it up to his. We sit down on the steps of a mausoleum and take a good look at each other.
If you have ever met up with someone from the internet then you are probably familiar with the type of once over that happened situation. All you and the other person are thinking is "How closely does this person actually resemble the person they depicted themselves as online."
Graveyard guy looked nothing like the pictures I saw. I mean, yes, the pictures he sent me were maybe a little blurry or were taken from "artistic" angles...I would never have recognized this guy on the street. He also had a super gay sounding voice...I don't know how else to describe it. To give you a mental image, he looked like a plus size Jason Schwartzman but without the quirky something that everyone likes.
From the look he was giving me, I could tell that he was not interested in a bike ride. I realized that the only way I would be able to get through this was to pop open my bottle of wine and quickly partake. I did just that with impressive warp speed I didn't know I possesed.
He suggested we take a stroll around the cemetery. Fine. As he was talking I realized that I recognized his grating voice from somewhere. I mentioned this and we quickly realized that he had been a guest lecturer in my grade 11 film class. He really liked this, as I was able to see from tent forming in his pants. I guess the whole Teacher And Student thing on top of the whole Strange Girl In Graveyard thing was a big turn on.
He suggested we dance. This was so stupid.
His idea of dancing was similar to that of a boy in 10th grade. He proceeded to grind himself against my leg like some sort of sex crazed dog while on top of some poor dead person's grave. I managed to convince him to continue walking. He then got this great idea that he hoist me up on top of some giant raised tomb thing. I barely managed to escape that one.
We finally made it back to the step of the mausoleum, him with a raging boner and me with my top half off from him pawing at me.
Things escalated from there and in front of the mausoleum, amoung the graves of those long past, he and I consummated our short cemetery romp.
I woke up the next morning with leaves in my hair and my dress on backwards.
I had made it home by 1am and collapsed directly into my bed. My ass and legs were a horrific sight, covered in mosquito bites that wouldn't heal for what felt like eternity. I could barely believe myself. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror looking at my messy self and laughing because that was an evening I would not soon forget.
I will now leave you with a song that a friend of mine sang to me shortly after I told her what had happened.
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