I'm at such a loss to even explain this latest situation that I've included a Q&A section at the end of my post. I've been asked the same questions over and over again, and I struggle with how to answer every time so perhaps this will finally lead to clarification.
It began well enough, but then the bar wasn't set very high. My last date had fled through a back exit immediately after looking at me, so the fact PB* and I had made it to sitting on a patio together drinking sangria was a victory.
PB was cute. Better than cute actually. I had to listen to more stories about his lacrosse team and the finer points of riding motocross than were really necessary, but all the same I found myself feeling very...warm.
Hard body, slow smile...this was a manly man. This was a guy who could throttle an attacking grizzly bear with one hand while pleasuring a woman with the other and dammit...I wanted to be that woman. Less than an hour later -- I was, romance and or exchanging of last names be damned. Let's not judge.
I maintained some small amount of decorum and refused to have sex with him outright. While this doesn't necessarily qualify me for an award, it probably should given what he looked like with his shirt off. Being the enterprising and enthusiastic date he'd already proven himself to be, he asked me if I had any toys.
(And if you don't know what kind of toys I'm talking about you should probably stop reading right now and just wait until I post again.)
Being a single girl, of course I did. It stood to reason that my manly man would enjoy power tools and we both enjoyed very much. Some time later, it was time for PB to go.
He was so sweet. It was late and he insisted he didn't need the light on because it might hurt my eyes, and I should just stay in bed. He tucked me in and kissed me once more before letting himself out.
I allowed myself a few moments of laying there in happy bliss before getting up to officially get ready for bed, and put away my clothes and everything else that had been left on the floor.
This included my vibrator, which was now gone.
PB (as in Perverted Bastard) had stolen my vibrator.
At first I refused to believe it. I crawled all around the floor. I checked under every nook and cranny, all the while knowing that the missing item was not exactly the proverbial needle in a haystack. It's not something that can just blend in with the surroundings, and I knew it wasn't blending. It was gone.
When your date steals your vibrator, it's a natural time to reevaluate your choices and your chosen path in life. After confirming that my wallet and the panties I had so hastily removed just a few hours earlier were all present and accounted for, there was nothing left to do but to sit down and write the most bizarre message over MSN I've ever had to compose. After all, it's not like I could file a police report.
Knowing the message would be waiting on PB's computer when he got home, this is what I wrote:
"PB - I can't believe I'm even having to write this message, but did you seriously steal from me? You sick fuck. That is really fucking sick."
Then I went to bed, and lay awake for most of the night feeling violated. The breach in vibrator security was traumatizing.
The next day, PB responds to my message with, "What are you talking about????"
And so began one of the most bizarre exchanges in MSN history. I explained that my vibrator was missing. It wasn't where I left it and it wasn't anywhere in my bedroom. Unless the Bermuda Triangle was actually located right next to my bed and I had never before noticed the squadrons of small aircraft being sucked into the mysterious vortex in my bedroom, my vibrator had left the building and I had no other option but to assume he took it.
He denied taking it, and asked me if I had looked under the bed. Since I sleep on two mattresses sitting atop a box spring sitting on the floor like I'm the princess and the goddamned pea, I assured him it was not under the bed.
And this is when it gets weird. PB carries on asking me how my day was like I hadn't just accused him of walking out of my apartment with my personal massage device tucked away hidden in his clothing.
At a loss, we carried on a normal conversation in which he told me how much he liked me and wanted to see me again. And I surprised myself by telling him I wanted to see him again too, and even more shocking - I did really want to see him again. I liked him. He stole my vibrator. But I liked him. Jesus.
As a friend pointed out, if he hadn't taken it he would assume I was one crazy bitch and he wouldn't want to see me again. This wasn't the case. Me accusing him was perfectly normal and we were making plans to get together again.
It's not like I was going to make the same mistakes again...not all of them at least. I told PB that even though I liked him and enjoyed our last evening together we would have to scale things back and take things slower. He agreed this would be fine, because he really liked me and he "had sparks with me." He could be patient. The next time we got together, our clothes just fell off again.
Still, I refused to go any further than softcore. This time however, when he got up to leave I jumped up and turned on all of the lights, blinding both of us but reassuring me that all of my belongings would stay where I had intended. I followed him out and when I hugged him good-bye I patted him down as best I could.
Now I knew I had a problem. I liked this guy enough to abandon all reason. Just hearing his voice caused the angel on my one shoulder and the devil on the other to start licking one another.
We set another date for last night, and we were going to have a little chat about the way things were heading, unbeknownst to him. Specifically, I was going to chat and he was going to inwardly groan as I suggested that perhaps we could see a movie some time instead of attacking each other like rabid raccoons, only that never happened. PB stood me up.
He was going to come by at 8:00. At 7:15 I get a message saying he's just getting ready and he'll see me at 8:00, and he didn't show up. His cell phone was turned off, and I haven't heard from him since. I'm a little baffled.
And so, without any further ado, should you have the same questions everybody else has been asking, I'll attempt to help out.
Q. He stole your vibrator? Seriously?? What the fuck!
A. What the fuck indeed. He did seriously steal it. It's been over a week and it's not turned up. This is not an item that should normally require any kind of anti-theft device with a locator option like when you lose your car in a parking lot and can hit a button to make the car's horn beep...this is a freaking vibrator. Although if I could make it beep I would have tried that.
Q. Why would you want to see him again? He stole your vibrator for Christ's sake! How is that OK?
A. To be fair, that's actually two questions, but nonetheless...I want to see him again because there was just something about him. Chemistry. Absolutely mindless, oh dear God I want you right now chemistry which I didn't experience for a single minute in my last relationship. I had forgotten what that was like, and now I remember why it's a bad idea.
Q. If you marry him can I tell this story at your wedding?
A. If you tell this story at my wedding can I stab you in the neck with my fork? That's what I thought.
Q. Please tell me you're not going to forgive him for standing you up.
A. Not at all. Unless his excuse involves an ambulance ride or time spent lying broken and bleeding in a ditch, we're done. But in that case...I'm really going to need a new toy.
