kalikshama
Posts: 14805
Joined: 8/8/2010 Status: offline
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While I call this "What happened when I skipped the Starbucks meeting," this is a true story of what happened with the second guy I met from collarme. I'm actually glad it happened because it taught me to slow down and listen to my gut instincts. I wrote this for someone who was pissed that I would not send him my address before we had the Starbucks meeting. "Z" wouldn't back off and I ended up declining to meet him. **** So J proclaimed, “There will be no meeting at Starbucks.” I said, “Well, I just like to do that for safety.” He said, “I’m 6’3” and a martial arts expert. You’re not safe with me ANYWHERE.” I thought, “Well, THAT’S hot!” I sent his profile to my friend N and she recognized him. She said he was cerebral and moody, but safe. Her reference was the only reason I agreed to meet him at what I thought was his place. He had me call him when I was outside his condo. He told me to come in on his command, lock the door behind me, proceed to the chair in front of the slider, and sit. I entered the mostly dark room, found the chair, and sat. He came up behind me, blindfolded me, and stood me up. I felt my shirt move and heard a ripping sound and realized he was cutting my shirt off. I made a noise of protest and he covered my mouth with his hand. When we’d spoken earlier, I made an objection to something and he proclaimed that he’d been doing this for 15 years and didn’t I think he had a plan. So while I was pissed that he’d ruined a shirt I had not agreed to shred, I assumed he had a plan to re-clothe me. Fast forward one unpleasant hour later, after calling time out because enough was enough, I found out there was no plan. He did not live there, nobody did, and there were no clothes. He said he’d go down to his car to look for a shirt. I just looked at him, and wondered how I was going to get past the doormen and residents to my car. He ended up tying my shirt in a knot and walking behind me to his car in the garage, bypassing the doormen. He drove me around to my car. Profoundly disturbed about the discrepancies between what he had said on the phone and the reality, I drove home with a knot in my back and a lump in my throat, feeling like an assault victim in my ripped shirt. When I pulled into my driveway, I prayed my housemate was asleep, and thankfully, she was. I took off everything I was wearing, threw it in the back of the closet, and got into the shower. After a good scrub, I bundled myself in flannel despite the heat, and went to bed. So while there is more to the story, I think the ruined shirt and my feelings about it adequately conveys the boundary violations I suffered that night. KK
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