Last night, I survived my nightmare. After years of living in the city, two of them being completely alone, I came home from yoga to find I had a visitor. This is worse than anything I have ever experienced in my life. You might be thinking to yourself “oh no, someone broke into her place” and you know what? You’d be right. I walked into my kitchen and there was my burglar, crawling towards the sink, eyeing me menacingly. I screamed at the top of my lungs and he ran right behind the fridge…

Ladies and gentlemen, I had my first roach. It was horrible, that little effing monster threw off my entire night. I screamed, cried, gagged, and I hadn’t even begun the dramatics. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a crippling fear of roaches, I can’t even buy a can of raid because they put a photo of it right where your goddamn palm goes. What marketing genius thought of that? Frozen in place with fear, I grabbed the closest object, my fire extinguisher. I was literally about to smash every bit of glassware on my drying mat to get the little effer but thankfully I was able to come out of panic just long enough to recognize that I’d be breaking the only two good wine glasses I have left. Next, as a prisoner of my irrational fear, I went ahead and did what any chick would do – I called every man in my phone. I called and screamed bloody murder as if the roach were wielding a knife and sporting gang tattoos. Finally, the ONLY one who agreed to show up did.

Steve and I had gone to high school together but weren’t exactly friends. We ran in different social circles and he was a bit on the shy side so our interaction was limited to “hellos” and “goodbyes.” He was one of those nice sweet guys who could never quite match my loud, boisterous personality.

Fast forward ten years, I was newly single and reviewing my dating options via social media. I was already wary of Match and OKCupid, so when Steve Facebook messaged me —changing my Facebook status to single is apparently the internet equivalent of throwing chum in a shark tank—  I decided to just go for it.
Our dates went well I suppose, we went to the museum where I gave my opinions on 16th century baroque art and he gave his opinion on how overpriced the gift shop was. We went out to dinner and shared everything we ordered. Well, I shared everything he ordered and he started at my plate as if I was eating hard boiled worms. OK he kind of had the palate of a six year old. Fine, the dates weren’t that good, but he was still really nice!

Back to last night. I had arrived home after an intense yoga session when roach-gate happened so by the time anyone was making their way to me, I was sweaty and had gross cry face. Not a hot look. Steve had finally arrived and went right to work, searching diligently as I cried and cowered like a psychopath (no really though… why am I single??) and then he did the strangest thing. He got super affectionate. Quick aside – he is in general a touchy, lovey, tactile person whereas I am not. Don’t get me wrong, I love hugs! I hug all of my friends but he likes to make constant contact and it’s just too much. So now, there I was, an hour into my panic attack when he comes at me and picks me up like a child by my ARMPITS. It sounds weird doesn’t it?
Actually, it was worse than it sounds. It was super humiliating and to get out of it, I did that toddler move where they make their bodies super rigid so that you can’t get them into a high chair. I ended up falling on the ground and he had the audacity to look at me and ask “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” Um HELLO you are picking me up and tossing me around like a two year old while more pressing issues crawl around less than a foot away! Still I let the weirdness go, get my bearings, and accept that the roach is gone (though the are never EVER truly gone). We sat down and started to watch tv. However, the affection continued. He pulled me over to cuddle, but as he did he went for a cheap feel! I was disgusted! Seriously who does this guy think he is? We’ve barely begun dating and I didn’t give him any indication that I was looking for a hot late night hook up. I had mascara and eyeliner all over my face from yoga (crying) for Christ’s sake. I yell indignantly “OH HELL NO!” and asked him to leave.

Steve: “That wasn’t even that bad!…. Wait, I didn’t even do anything!… Wait, why are you even mad?… ok well don’t worry, I’ll never talk to you ever again…. I’ll never bother you ever for the rest of our lives…”

Me: (in a calm and collected but stern voice) “Get out.”

The nerve! I mean, in spite of his many, MANY, drawbacks he came right over to help with the roach, no questions asked, and didn’t judge my perfectly rational and normal reaction to this life threatening event. Unfortunately, while I could forgive the narrow-mindedness and a future of chicken fingers and pasta with regular old tomato sauce, I could not forgive a guy putting the moves on when I am clearly not in the right frame of mind. I mean, he didn’t even get the damn roach!I guess it’s back to online dating for me.