Brief Encounter

Posted on January 28, 2013

0


No offense, sir. But your thong totally clashes with your skinny jeans.

No offense, sir. But your thong totally clashes with your skinny jeans.

This story if from Dahlia, a 28-year-old actress in NYC, as told to Raz:

In hindsight I’m surprised I didn’t die after all the unwise decisions I made on my first date with Frank. We’d met online in Winter 2008. He was from Williamsburg, and invited me to meet him at the Blackbird Cafe. I rarely ventured to Brooklyn, but I agreed.

He showed up wearing a fedora and long black trench coat. Underneath were the tightest plaid pants I’ve ever seen—and a whole lot of chains. One of them even ended in handcuffs. Surprising myself, I was totally into his hipster look.

We drank tea, not alcohol, and had a sort of pseudo-philosophical conversation. He told me that he had been an ibanker, but 2008 wasn’t exactly a good year for ibankers, so he decided to focus on his art instead. Honestly, it was hard to focus on what he was saying, because he was just really cute. He seemed a little unfocused too, and was constantly checking his cell. Afterward, we went to Alligator Lounge for pizza and beer. And, like any good online date, started making out at the bar.

Then, when we came up for air, he said, “Let’s go on an adventure!”

Why not?

We got on the L train. I think it was my first or second time ever being on that train, so I had no concept of where we were going. He finally revealed that we were going to his apartment. I was probably 70% excited, 30% panicked.

His place looked like a crack den. There was a mattress on the floor with brown satin sheets and leopard print pillows. We sat on the “bed,” and he immediately started showing me his photos from Burning Man—picture after picture of him looking really drugged up and doing crazy things. I decided I liked Frank better when we were making out.

We started kissing. That eventually led to him being naked enough that I found out what kind of underwear one wears under the skinniest pants ever. Yes, my date was wearing a thong. And not just any thong, but a leopard-print thong. This is too creepy, I thought. I will either get bed bugs or die.

When we finally stopped making out, he decided it was a good time to take a picture of me for his phone. Weird sex hair and makeup everywhere isn’t exactly my best look.

Thankfully, I left in one piece. And, I have to admit; I was a little intrigued by the man in leopard panties.

His work hours were really weird and sporadic, so it was hard to find a time to meet up again. But I saw him one more time after that. He came to a show I was in. While they were waiting for me to come out afterward, my friends made a point of chatting with him.

“What do you do?” asked my friend Katie.

“Everything,” said Frank.

“No, what do you do for work?”

Apparently, he just smiled and nodded.

When Katie told me that later, it all clicked. The cell phone, the odd hours, the creepy wardrobe…I’m pretty sure he was a drug dealer. After all, he’d mentioned once that he was “in to chemicals.” I’d assumed he was just a chemistry buff.

Advertisements
Posted in: Your Stories