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This is the creepiest and worst date I’ve ever experienced.
I met Jack* online. Jack claimed he was just over six feet tall, so I just accepted the fact that he was probably 5'10. However, this recent dental school graduate had impeccable credentials.
1. Relatively decent looking
2. Well educated
3. Gainfully employed
4. No illegitimate children that he knew of
Why not? Let's give it a whirl.
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I met Jack online, and he seemed like the perfect guy.
Jack and I met at a local watering hole for a few cocktails and some pleasantly delightful conversation about our affinity for camping trips outside the city and our mutual disdain for people who cruise in the passing lane.
…seriously though, f*ck those people.
I might add that this was my first date after the quarantine lifted, and my vagina wasn't exactly as picky as it was several months prior to lockdown.
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Until he displayed his first sign of self-importance.
All was going swimmingly until the waitress returned with Jack's credit card after paying the bill.
"Thank you for coming, Mr. Carter.* You guys have a great evening," the waitress said as we prepared to depart.
"Doctor," Jack replied. "It's actually 'doctor,' not 'mister,' Jack ostentatiously informed her.
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Which I (stupidly) ignored because I desperately wanted sex.
UGH. Really, Jack?! This was going so well, and NOW you have to be an ass hat?
But AGAIN, since my vagina was driving the bus, I suggested we take things back to my apartment.
A few cocktails later, we were going to Pound Town, and I was engaged in some of the worst sex of my life. But really…It was like he was literally trying to pound me into the mattress.
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Which ended up being the most disappointing experience of my life.
We both fell asleep, and when I awoke in the morning I hopped into the shower whilst Jack got dressed and (thankfully) ready to leave.
When I got out of the shower, Jack was standing over my dining room table, where I had several books, note pads, mail, and other miscellaneous belongings.
After some awkward words and a bumbling embrace alas, Jack was gone.
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Before he left, I caught the creep snooping through my stuff...
As promised, Jack texted me later to invite me for dinner — to which I politely declined.
Then I got quite possibly the creepiest, most fucked up text I have ever received.
"It's alright. I just hope you stop feeling like you are riding your sister's coattails, and you stop feeling like you are less important than her."
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Turns out, he had read my f*cking therapy journal.
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He claimed it had fallen on the floor and opened up, ready for him to read. Excuse me?!?
"I didn't mean to read it. I was just looking at your books, and it fell on the floor and opened up to that page."
Bull. F*cking. Sh*t.
A pile of other things covered my therapy journal.
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I blocked the psychopath immediately. Boy byeeee!
I told him that he was borderline psychotic and blocked his number immediately.
*Name has been changed to protect the privacy of this tw*t waffle even though he CLEARLY doesn't give a f*ck about anyone else's.
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