Working full time while taking a night class has seriously compromised my social life. Dating has rightly been demoted to the ranks of organizing my closet and cleaning out the fridge.
So now I live vicariously through my friends, who manage to endure their own share of dating horrors and man mishaps. I don’t even know how it’s possible, but their experiences manage to cross lines that need not be drawn! Here we begin the story of T’s encounter with a biker boy…
One of my friends (we’ll call “T”) met a guy through an online dating site. Yes, I know, I know: Did she learn nothing from my cautionary tales of woe? But T is, if nothing else, open-minded and, while not entirely sold on the tale of “happily ever after,” I think she reserves a marginal amount of optimism—well, at least she used to before her date with the biker boy.
T had been “talking” to this guy online, and he asked to meet her at 2 p.m. for some food and drinks at an Egyptian restaurant. They planned see a Beatles revival band afterward.
After numerous hours passed, they left the bar to make their way to where the band was playing. That’s when Biker Boy lobbed his first grenade.
“Ok, I have to tell you something. See that bike out there? That’s mine. I have two D.U.I.s, so I had to ride here.”
Hot Harley fantasy ends here dear readers: His ride was a Huffy.
TWO D.U.I.s. Unless conjugal visits are one of your role-play fantasies, this revelation translates to: “I’m irresponsible, immature, unable to learn from my mistakes, and I’m above the law.”
Oh, sure, it’s not like he said he was in the witness relocation program or that he blames his parents for his pesky crack habit, but a woman has to consider if it's a sign that a man has a drinking problem. In my experience, a man with a drinking problem is as alluring as a man who has pet monkeys.
I've been the woman wondering where my husband was at 5 a.m. only to find him passed out in a ditch or driving home drunk and cluelessly pulling into the neighbor's driveway. I've received the two-in-the-morning wakeup call from a drunk boyfriend needing yet another ride home from the other side of town. I've had one boyfriend pick a fight with me so loudly that my neighbor (in a HOUSE) came over to make sure I was O.K. (I was horrified). I've even had keys thrown at my head as I was leaving a man when he drank too much and tried to pick a fight. I may be many things, but I'm not going to be a victim or embarrassed in public by some man's inability to control himself. A drinking problem is and should always be a deal breaker. The public service announcement is over. Now back to our story.
They walked several miles in the 90-degree heat of July (not exaggerating) to the park where the band was playing. A little stifling heat wasn’t going to get T down! If nothing else, she was getting the equivalent of a hot yoga workout and a blue-ribbon story to share on Monday at the office.
When they reached the park, the only sounds of the evening were the cracks of baseball bats. There was no band in earshot. Come to find out, there was no band period. Bonehead Bad Biker Boy either had the wrong night, the wrong park, or the wrong time (likely some unfortunate combination thereof). The date could either end on a humorous note, or continue to flail about until it wheezed its final breath and mercifully died.
I’m not sure what exactly was going through my friend’s mind as she and Bonehead Bad Biker Boy began their slow trek back to her car and his bike (still smirking). But I know exactly what she was thinking when, as they walked along in mutual disappointment, Bonehead did the unthinkable: He let loose another grenade via his rear. And then another.
Yes, that’s right: He was farting loudly and without apology.
My friend: “What the heck was THAT?”
Badass Biker Boy (in a tone suggesting T was ridiculous for even mentioning his transgression): “What? I had to fart.”
My friend: “But I can HEAR you, and I just MET you!”
Badass Biker Boy maintained: “What? I had to fart.”
He played it off as a natural, physiological event. Well, so are bad breath, wayward hairs, and body odor!
Knowing my friend, her brain was spinning with what to do with this situation and what it means about this guy. At some point during the walk, they decided to go back to his cave, er, house. I am of the opinion that his stink bomb actually deployed a neurotoxin of analgesic effect to temporarily prevented neurotransmitters in her frontal lobe from reaching their receptors, but I digress…
At his house, they sat on his deck and had a drink. T was trying to make the most of a botched evening while giving Badass Biker Boy the benefit of the doubt. Her reasoning was everyone takes missteps, and perhaps he had the best of intentions, but his execution was wrought with errors in judgment (I know, shocking). He wasn’t a horrible person, but he was a savant at demonstrating poor decision-making skills, and his good intentions came wrapped in a tacky sense of public (and first date) decorum.
Whilst T teetered on whether or not to consider a second date with Badass Biker Boy, a woman came sprinting up the yard screaming obscenities.
I can only imagine my friend expecting Jerry Springer to jump out from behind the bushes at any moment. The woman was yelling at Badass Biker Boy for having “another woman” in her house.
“My house?! You have another woman at MY HOUSE?!”
She screamed numerous colorful terms at Biker Boy, and she screamed at T for not noticing the “girlie knickknacks” all around “her house.”
My friend did what any self-respecting woman outside the ghetto would do: She picked up her keys and left without a syllable.
By Monday, my friend’s post-traumatic stress had subsided. This was truly a mismatch no matter how the online dating site sliced and diced their compatibility. In my experience, I’d have better odds meeting a quality man at a state fair than an online dating site.
I cannot begin to tell you the problems with Badass Biker Boy. It starts with the fact that he misrepresented himself. I promise you, no woman closes their eyes and dreams of a man riding up on his shiny, white Schwinn trailed by a cloud of gas. What’s more, who wants to step into a relationship riddled with drama from the onset?
Who was this ranting woman? His wife? His girlfriend? His clingy ex? Trust me: T didn’t care.
In summary, we don’t want YOU if you come with HER. Get your shit together and your past in the past before trying to plan our future. Seriously.
To make matters worse, “Farting Biker Boy” (his name forever more) continued to leave T voicemails and send her text messages for six months. He insisted to her that they were perfect for each other. Farting Biker Boy even tried to use his friends as references to convince T to give him a chance.
Sure some people out there don’t mind doormats. I’m sure some people prefer them. But trust me, my friend is not that person. For months, this guy tried relentlessly to break her down. And like any nice person, she declined politely at first, but her friends soon stepped in to do what needed to be done: Level with the idiot.
During happy hour one night, she received what was likely the 45th unsolicited text, and we took her phone. We threatened him with the police. One of the guys told Farting Biker Boy he was her boyfriend, and since he knew where he lived, he’d go over there and kick his ass if he ever contacted her again.
It’s confounding how severely we miscalculated Farting Biker Boy’s resistance to our insults, threats, and overt dislike. What did he do? He called her over ten times more that evening and sent her countless follow-up texts.
My friend’s final response to this harassment was to respond to him with silence. All normal people know what this means. Who hasn’t been the recipient of NOTHING? It’s the surefire, deadly precise way to get a message of disinterest across.
Why would a person want to pursue someone that has no interest in them? His modus operandi to woo a woman was to wear her down and feign crazy? Does Farting Biker Boy truly have a psychological problem, or has his technique worked for him in the past? While our friend may have dodged a bullet, she reeled from the shrapnel for many months.
Every girl wants a man to fight for her and prove himself righteous and deserving of her love, but not after one date. Hell, not even after several months of dating! Be serious: You’re just clingy! Or you’re crazy, and nobody likes crazy.
Farting Biker Boy’s persistence in the face of humiliation and his detachment from reality are simply unmatched. He should go into politics. He won’t even need to worry about those D.U.I.s.
