I remember the night I met him. My friend and I were out of town visiting a friend of hers, and we decided to crash a house party. And there he was. He walked into the room, and (with a little strawberry lemonade vodka) I felt the whole room freeze. He was the ultimate bad boy and exactly my type. He has long-ish shaggy hair, pretty eyes, and was much taller than me. I had to find out who that gorgeous stranger was. We partied through the night and a little bit of the morning, and then ended up crashing at my friend’s place. Like most alcohol fueled nights, we ended up hooking up. The next morning we exchanged numbers, and my friends and I left back for our college town.
Not too long after, school ended and I had a week free before my summer responsibilities would start. He and I had been texting briefly in that time. Our conversations were nothing too in depth, I was just trying not to fall out of touch with my dream man. Then one day, something spontaneous sparked in me. I texted him asking what he was doing that weekend. To my surprise he said he was totally free, so I asked about me coming to see him. He seemed super excited. He had been telling me to come see him for a long time now.
He said he lived in a super small apartment, and his roommate was weird about not letting people over, so I should probably get a hotel room. I thought that was a little strange, but he said he would pay, so I looked over it. When I finally got to the hotel the next day, it was not ideal. It ended up being a super run down inn. The main lobby and hallways looked like something straight out of The Shining. I texted him telling him that I made it there. An hour passed. Thoughts were racing through my head. Was he still asleep? Did he forget? He finally texted me back about an hour later. “Hey, sorry, I was still doing community service. I’ll shower then head that way.” I was so excited to finally see him again. I kept picturing how the week was going to go. We would jam out in his truck blaring music down the highway, I’d meet his adorable dog, we’d hang out by a pool, and stay up all night just enjoying the summer.
While I waited, I started to feel very unsafe. I found a mechanical pencil in my purse and kept it in my back pocket just in case. As if that was going to be a great weapon. I started analyzing my room. The tile in the bathroom was coming off. There were stains on the curtains and in the sheets. A bug was crawling on the wall. The air conditioner didn’t work automatically. About 40 minutes passed. He asked what my room number was. To my dismay, I waited another 20 minutes until he finally knocked on the door. He walked in and it was like I was dreaming. He looked good as ever, and we hit it off immediately just like old times. I thought surely this would be the best, most romantic week of my life.
I was so wrong.
It was great at first. We drove around and found local spots to hang out. We had a super ~romantic~ quickie later. But our fun was cut short when he had to go to an AA meeting, so back to the room I went. I realized I was sitting alone in my hotel room more than we actually were together. He came over after, and I started noticing he was becoming much less affectionate. I felt weird laying on his chest. He’d only really talk to me if he found a stupid video he found hilarious on his phone, or by updating me loudly on how one of his teams was doing. He didn’t even stay the night.
The conversations became duller and duller the next day. I was appalled as he made racist and rude comments about strangers walking down the street. I felt like I was talking to a brick wall. At one point, one of his friends texted him asking for a ride because his car got towed. When it came time I asked if we needed to go get him. He shook it off and said he would find someone else. This guy was a terrible friend. The rest of the evening was the same. He’d eat dinner at home while I was in the room starving, waiting for him to text me about dinner plans. He didn’t stay with me that night either. We texted later that night, and I called him out on how I wish the best for him but that he needs to grow up. He responded, admitting that he didn’t even want to hang out with me, and was mad he had to cancel his other plans. He then called me crazy (typical), and said I was living in a fantasy world.
I was so upset and furious that I left the room around 3 a.m. and drove the five hours back to my place. My Prince Charming ended up being Prince Hans. I had been heartbroken by a college dropout with more issues than I knew how to deal with. No more “bad boys” for me..
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