The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources.
It’s rare that something reaching Tucker Max levels happens, so I feel compelled to share this story for its sheer entertainment value. It happened a while ago and I don’t want to forget it completely when my hair turns grey.
Before I proceed, here’s some background: I had gone out one night to a friend’s farewell party. He came in with a female friend (let’s call her V), and V confided to him that she had a friend that she would like me to meet. I thought nothing of it when she added me as a facebook friend a few days later. There was no contact between us.
Fast forward to a long weekend last September. I had indicated via facebook that I would attend a certain event out at a certain nightclub. A whole group of us head there, and we grab a table for bottle service at the patio upstairs. The second we get to the table V stumbles upon me and reintroduces herself. We exchange pleasantries and I fully expect her to head back to her group, but she doesn’t. She drags me over to introduce me to her sister and a friend, followed by an awkward silence. I tell her I have to head back to my friends, but she tags along anyway. To get her to go away, I give her my phone number and tell her “we should hang out sometime”, fully not intending to follow up on it.
About 20 minutes later, she comes up to me again and tells me she wants to introduce me to someone. Expecting this to be the person she mentioned to my friend weeks before, I follow her, only to be reintroduced to her sister. Her sister turns beet red, mentions to V that we have already met and runs away. This is getting bizarre and awkward. I go back to my friends and think nothing of it, and proceed to get trashed.
Towards the end of the night I’m piss drunk and I get a text message from what I assume is V. By that time the group had moved downstairs to dance. She tells me she is downstairs and to come get her. I head back to my friends and V is hanging around there. She comes to me and gives me a sip of her drink. By that time I was really drunk — she trieds to dance with me and I oblige. After a while my head starts spinning and decide to go outside for a breather. I sit down at the doorstep of a shop next to the club, and lie down. (I’d like to mention here that I never do things like this. I have gotten drunk like this only a handful of times in my life and I have never, ever run outside to lay down on a sidewalk. This was really weird behaviour for me). At this point V has followed me outside to see if I was OK. After a few minutes my head is still spinning and I decide that I need to go home. She tells me that she could come too.
At the time even though V was not particularly attractive, I thought it might be a good idea. Again, this is not what usually happens — people don’t usually offer to come home with me especially without me asking. I have pretty high standards even when drunk, and she did make not the cut. I think it was a combination of my drunkeness and what I was going through at the time that led me to proceed. I was trying to get over someone and I thought this might be a good way to help the process (it didn’t). I had also been going through a particularly nasty dry spell so that probably contributed to my decision to let her come with me.
By the time I get home I realize that 1) I did not want to go through with this and 2) I couldn’t perform even if I wanted to. I tell her she has to leave, and she protests that her friends have already gone home and that she has no ride. She proceeds to get in my bed while I stay outside in the living room for a bit. When I head to my bedroom, I kick her out of bed and make her sleep in the living room. Then I proceed to heave into the garbage can next to the bed. I have only been so drunk that I could not even bring myself to go the the bathroom to puke once before in my life. I was really unable to move at this point, which is not a good thing when you have a psycho in the living room.
She comes in and to see if I am OK, and then proceeds to have her way with me to her satisfaction (I never got mine). I am so incapacitated that I just lie there while she does the work, unable and unwilling to enjoy it. Once she is satisfied, she gets off and I roll over and pass out. Twice more during the night she wakes me up and does it again. In between she whispers really creepy stuff to me like, “The first time I saw you at our friend’s farewell party, I knew I wanted to have you”. And, “You know the only reason I went to the club tonight was because I knew you were going through facebook”.
I wake up bleary eyed once more early in the morning to see her trying to take a picture of me naked with her phone. I quickly cover myself up and pass out once again. When I really wake up later on that next day, the psycho has disappeared and I am just glad that she is gone. When I get my wits together I realize that my phone is missing. I start panicking, and then take an inventory of what else is missing: a couple of books — one that was on my nightstand and one that was in the bathroom, a jacket that was hanging on my office chair, and the underwear that I was wearing that night. I also find that she ate half of my leftovers and left a greasy patch in front of the fridge.
I freak out, IM my friends and get them to try and call my phone — it’s off. Luckily through the wonders of technology, my phone backs itself up nightly and I found the bitch’s phone number. I try to facebook message, call and text (through their website you can 2-way text to a Rogers customer via the web) her, but there is no answer. After a couple hours I send one last desperation message, telling her I have her phone number and if I don’t hear from her in an hour I am going to call the cops. I finally get an answer shortly after this. She pretends that she just got up and just got my messages. I then proceed to ask her if she’s seen my phone, and she says that she hasn’t. I ask her to look harder, and she miraculously finds it in the jacket — the one she took along with a couple books “because she had to leave”. That’s really funny, because there’s no way my phone should be in that jacket. I wasn’t evening wearing it the night before.
I have to play nice in order to get my stuff back, so I play along and meet her at a coffee shop to collect it. When I get there she is already there and has bought me an iced tea, and we share an awkward moment while we finish our drinks. She hands me my stuff, and asks whether “we are cool”. I agree and head out, glad that I got all my stuff back.
Well, almost everything. My underwear is still unaccounted for.
When I get home I immediately put her on my facebook limited profile. She gets the message and deletes herself as my friend shortly afterwards. I get one more text message from her that I ignore, and that’s the end of it.
Many people whom I have told this story to believe that I may have been drugged, and I don’t think that is out of the question.
Lesson learned: Watch who you add on facebook, and don’t publicize everything that you are going to do on there. Facebook is a stalker’s paradise.
P.S. On my phone she had the audacity to put herself in my calendar a few days ahead to “Meet with V”. I also went through my text logs and saw that she sent some incomprehensible garbage to one of my female contacts. Also, she was considerate enough to use protection.
