In theory, the more dates you go on, the more likely you are to find the right person for you, but at the same time, the more likely you are to meet weird, boring, or aggressive types who at first look like perfectly normal men. I met one like that (so far the scariest and worst date I’ve had) and I believe I won’t forget it for the rest of my life. Remembering it even now, the adrenaline rushes in and my hands start shaking.
I was visiting London at the time and wanted to explore the market of a foreign country. With today’s dating apps, this can be done quickly. He seemed likeable, wrote without mistakes, which is a big plus, presented his thoughts fluently, so we agreed to meet for a glass of beer. When Darius asked – “are we gonna drink alcohol, or should I ride my motorcycle?”, I thought it was nothing more than an attempt to look cool.
No one drives to dates in big cities like central London, because there is nowhere to park your car (or motorcycle), and you simply cannot leave them on the street. Policemen not only drive around, but also ride horses. Another thing, the purpose of the date is to drink beer, so why the hell ask “are we gonna drink alcohol”? Oh, if only I had realized then that this hint was only the first glimpse of the monster hidden in this man. But more on that later.
He came in a suit, straight from work. Very nice and tidy, not unusual for someone who works in an office in London. Strange was the office door ‘chip’ hanging around his neck. It had the logo of a world-class computer technology corporation on it (by the way, he didn’t take it off all evening). Yes, you will say, in such a city, people are in a hurry, so many jump into the subway with those cards around their necks and run home, just to get through the crowd of sweaty people faster, listening to the subway announcer’s “mind the gap”, and to be able to fall into their warm bed faster.
BUT, you wouldn’t take it off if you wanted to show your worth in the job market and your achievements. No, you wouldn’t take it off, because otherwise how will people know you’re wildly fancy and smart, and a big earner among other things? I once knew an office cleaner who worked in an office complex for a famous London firm, who used to go to and from work in a formal suit and always, ALWAYS had this logo card around her neck. When I asked why she dresses like that, she answered without even hesitating, “so that people in the city and the subway think that I am an office worker and know which companies, so that they respect me more.”
The guy chose a very chic place, a restaurant in the very center of the city with the most beautiful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, romantic dimmed lights and polite waiters. As always, on the first date I sit across from the new acquaintance so that it’s easier to talk, you don’t have to turn your head, and you don’t have to make shoulder or leg contact with someone you’ve just met. A precaution that took on great importance later that evening.
We ordered a beer and started the date. At first it was interesting, Darius talked about his work in a huge company, I listened with astonishment, because until then I had never communicated with someone “from the inside”. I didn’t know how such corporations worked, so I asked, even though he told me without asking. After a good hour and a pint and a half of beer, I got tired of listening and started planning my tomorrow in my mind, hoping that at some point he would shut up or maybe ask something about me. When he mentioned something about traveling, I stopped planning and listened.
Before I could finish the first glass of beer, Darius was halfway through the second and continued his speech about his travels, gradually saturating them with erotic sex tourism details: “I liked Australia the most, such bodies, such women there! All soft and flexible. Australian women are very flexible and available. You just have to to talk to them on the beach, serve a cocktail, throw a frisbee, and in the evening I run my fingers over her thighs, slowly revealing that small white area that doesn’t burn under the bikini. Have you ever tried the bridge position?”.
After telling me about a “performance” by Sharon and her friend Alice in the swimming pool of a fancy hotel and then in his room, Darius asked if he could sit next to me. I refused, because I already started to dislike the direction in which the evening’s conversation had turned, and made the excuse that it was more convenient for me to talk sitting like this (I wanted to add – “listen and study my nails, you anti-social whore”, but I refrained). And he continued to list his victories.
I can’t explain why I didn’t leave after the first detailed description of the sex scene. I sat frozen like a block of ice, listened and could not, simply could not believe what I was hearing with my ears in this beautiful place from the lips of this local compatriot.
“It was very interesting with the African women, I tried with one from Nigeria and one from Kenya. Nigerian Kisha was crazier and so active, petting, laughing, jumping, almost breaking the bed. But from Kenya – she indulged more and sucked better. Now I would like to try with a Chinese girl, they are small enough to slide well there,” he said and narrated, describing the different nationalities. He especially emphasized the sexual aggression of Russian women and the passivity of Baltic girls, saying “like a log in a bed”.
All the fuses started firing in my head, I remembered the documentaries about serial rapists, few of them remember each victim in such detail. While I was spinning biographies of Joseph McCann, Ted Bundy and other rapists in my head, Darius suddenly sat down next to me. I moved further, he closer. I moved even further. He tried to hug me, I grabbed his hand. “Don’t touch me! I want to go, I will ask for the bill,” I wanted to get up, but found myself pushed into a corner. Well, there was nowhere to go, I needed to get out of this situation somehow and run away from that suspicious freak as quickly and as far as possible. At least we are in a public place, I thought. I looked around. There was a security guard nearby, so there was no reason to panic, if anything, help was right here.
“No, maybe we shouldn’t go yet, let’s talk,” the man mumbled while placing his hand on my thigh. “I told you to stop touching,” I retorted. He pulled away, but when I picked up my wallet, he grabbed my head and tried to kiss me. I pushed his face away from me with my hand, but he didn’t move and tried to put his tongue in my mouth. At that moment I felt the need to defend myself with my whole body.
And I bit. In the place closest to the face – on his lip. Through it. As if an earring had been inserted. My upper and lower teeth hit each other. Darius instantly retreated, jumped to his feet, and looked at me with wide eyes, touched his lip, which was bleeding. “I told you several times – no,” I tried to use my harsh voice, but my voice was shaking as were my hands and my whole body. “You’re sick, you bit my lip! YOU BIT ME!” he yelled, smearing the dripping blood on his chin.
My new friend mumbled a little more and ran out. A security guard came to the table and asked politely if everything was alright, because anyone would know something was wrong. A pleasant waiter brought the last beer the man ordered and the bill.
I couldn’t walk, my knees were still shaking and my hands were shaking. I sat there. I drank the beer thet was brought for Darius, paid the bill, and as I walked to the subway, I thought how good it was that we met in such a public place and noticed the “red flags” in his behavior that indicated trouble to come.
And a reminder to myself and others – if you feel uncomfortable during a date, it’s better to leave sooner rather than later.