If you noticed that I was quoting L7, you get a gold star for the day…

I am a freak magnet.  I have been chased around by freaks my entire life.  I’ve compiled this list of the most memorable creeps, weirdos, losers and freaks that have crossed my path.  Enjoy!

West Virginia circa 1998 I had a verbally and psychologically abusive boyfriend whom I loved intensely because well, I needed someone to love me back.  He was this goth-looking kid; I was a sweet, vegan, non-shaving, virginal, hippie-type.  He immediately got to work, attacking my insecurities and trying to turn me into his ex-girlfriend.  He would pick out clothes for me to wear.  If I was not wearing the outfit that he chose for me, he would pout and be pissed off for the rest of the night.

I will list his douche baggery-ness with bullets as it would take SEVERAL pages of small font to describe all of the reasons why this guy was a total freak.

• He convinced me to lose my virginity in a dirty hotel room that I paid for.  It was not a pleasant or memorable experience.  I had been pressured to the point where I just gave in.  The greatest part about this was that I was suckered into paying  for the hotel room, did the deed, then had to make it home by curfew.  Meanwhile, he and his friends got to party in the room, for free, for the rest of the night.
•  One time, we were visiting his sister out-of-state.  He had his mom drop us off at the mall.  There was this claw ring that he really wanted.  It was $100 and some dollars.  He called his mom and asked for MORE money to buy it.  She refused.  He spent the rest of the day, crying (and I mean literally crying) and saying that I didn’t know how much that ring meant to him.
• I had made an appointment to get a tattoo with my dad and I had really been looking forward to it.  My boyfriend wanted to come along.  My dad got his tattoo and the artist said he only had time for one more.  My boyfriend actually had the audacity to ask who was getting the tattoo, me or him.
• He talked me into moving out-of-state, then completely ignored me.  He would leave for work early in the morning and then go out drinking with friends and then come home and go to sleep.  I was not 21 at the time.  I was depressed and wished I was dead every single day that I lived with him–I lasted for 2 weeks before I moved out.
• He asked me to come over to his friend’s house and videotape his band practice.  I was thinking that it was really cool that he was in a band.  HA!  I got there and they were all lip-syncing to cd’s and pretending to play instruments.  I am not kidding.

Maryland circa 2003

I attended 2 parties hosted by an elderly man.  The party-goers were all in their late teens/early twenties.  This man had red lights in his living room, was constantly playing Slayer concerts on the TV and had a dungeon in his basement.  Fortunately, I never had the pleasure of seeing the dungeon.  The kids going to these parties weren’t the brightest crayons in the box either.  I heard that the old man was sleeping with some of them.  It was totally weird.

Texas circa 2004

I had just moved to a new city.  I was riding the Via bus to school, when I met a hippy-ish looking guy who was manhandling a guitar.  He didn’t have a case for it and had just purchased it.  I loved the excitement in his eyes, but there was DEFINITELY not a love interest there on either of our parts (to my knowledge anyway).  We exchanged phone numbers and parted ways.

Later we decided to hang out.  I thought he was a little weird, but he came over and we drank and played guitar together.  He invited some of his friends over to my house.  His friends were really cool…way cooler than him.  This lead me to the false belief that he was more normal than I had originally given him credit for.  I was dead wrong.

My bedroom window was right next to the slab of cement otherwise known as our back porch.  I often felt uncomfortable.  We weren’t living in the best neighborhood and I had nightmares that murderers would be lurking outside, ready to break through my window and pounce on me.

It was 5am in June of 2004 when I heard a tapping on the window.  I cautiously went to the screen door.  There stood this guy, bleeding profusely from his arm which was wrapped in a thick bath towel, soaked in blood.  There was blood on the porch.  A lot of blood.  Judging by the pool of blood on the concrete and the bloody knock prints, he had attempted to get my attention via the front door as well.

He concocted a story about how he was in a car accident and went to the emergency room only to be turned away.  He claimed to have walked from the ER all the way to my apartment.  Keep in mind that it would have taken a non-bleeding person a very long time to accomplish this feat.  If he had, indeed, walked all this way, I am sure that he would’ve passed out due to blood loss.  He asked for a ride to his parents’ house.   I was carless at the time and woke up my roommate who said that she would drive us.  We tried to convince him to let us take him to the hospital.  He blatantly refused to go to the hospital and being that we were friends, I respected his wishes and we took him to what he claimed was his parents’ apartment.  I was still relentless in trying to persuade him to go to the ER.  As my roommate and I were leaving, I felt very uncomfortable with this whole situation and I decided to try to talk him into going to the hospital one last time.  I found him lying outside, between apartments, on the concrete.  He proceeded to call me a “fucking bitch” and tell me to leave him along.  I went home and called 911 and told them where he was and that he needed an ambulance.

I tried calling his phone and leaving messages.  I never heard from him again and was living with the guilt that I could, in some fucked up way, be responsible for this man’s death.  I even tried to look him up in the San Antonio obituaries, but I did not know his last name or even his real first name.

Over a year later, my roommate and I were waiting in line at Henry Rollin’s spoken word and  there he was, the bleeding guy.  I did what any pissed off, guilt ridden, woman would do and loudly proclaimed how rude it was that “some people” would let certain other people believe that they are dead….etc.

Coincidentally, when we got inside the venue, he and his friends ended up having seats right behind us.  He had gotten up to go to the restroom and I confirmed his identity with the remaining member of his party.  When he got back, he and his 2 friends left.  The show hadn’t even started yet.

Texas circa 2004

I was in the middle of some very serious grieving as my mom had just passed away.  I went to a bar by myself and scribbled song lyrics into my journal…..long story short, someone put Roofies in my drink….I woke up on my living room floor with only the vaguest memory of a circle of hippies, a beautiful girl with dreads,  and a tearful conversation about my mom.

San Antonio, TX circa 2005

A college schoolmate approached me to compliment me on a feminist button that was on my back pack and asked me if I wanted to start a feminist club with her.  We attempted to start a non-hierarchical feminist group.  No one was doing anything because there was NO leadership.  I’m a very get-shit-done-er kind of person.  So, I tried to get shit done.  All of a sudden, I was a racist because I was pronouncing her name Marissa (as she had introduced herself to me) instead of “Ma-reesa” as the other Hispanic women in the group called her.  If you ask me, she’s the racist because she altered the pronunciation of her name for my white benefit.  I would have loved to pronounce her name correctly, had I been told what the correct pronunciation was.  The women in the group were NOT feminists.  They were afraid of their own feminism.  They didn’t want to do anything that would be construed as “man-hating” including a demonstration that I suggested about pay inequity.  They were a bunch of fucking idiots.

Before she turned from interesting, naive, indie girl into the misogynistic dragon lady from hell, we had taken a liking to one another.  We got together for drinks a few times.  She would say things like, “if I were interested in women, I would want to go out with you”…..and blah blah blah…  In case you are not familiar, this is something that bi-curious fuck wads say as a disclaimer to excuse the behavior they are about to display, because hey, they aren’t gay.  She went so far as to tell me that she wanted to date me and then ask if she could kiss me.  It was completely insane.  She started treating me like her girlfriend.  One day I made a comment to suggest that we were dating and she said she had no idea why I would think that.  CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS???!!!!!!!  I told her to “fuck off” and hung up the phone.

So then she had one of her friends send me a really mean email telling me that I was trying to  take over the feminist group and a whole bunch of nonsense….and that it was very unfeminist of me to tell one of my “sisters” to “fuck off”.  Then I told her the whole group could “fuck off”.  I didn’t hear of their feminist group ever again.  I’m assuming they didn’t do any type of activism at all.  I went to a smaller college and if any shit was stirred up, I would have heard about it….didn’t hear a peep.  It’s a shame that a feminist group was ashamed to be feminists and as a result did nothing.

A couple months later, I saw her in the hallway at school and realized that I hated her so much that the sight of her, literally, made me physically ill.  I got that vomit taste in my mouth.

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