So, dressed to impress, I arrive at a nearby joint where the bartender knows me since I'm a regular. Coming from Toronto, bartender/waiters in LA are refreshing. There is no white knighting, cockblocking and the female staff are not jealous when they see you with 3 different girls a week seated at the same stool and doing the same routine. They are actually glad that you are bringing in customers. A world of difference! At least that problem of my life has been solved. As I sat there waiting for my date, I took a look around me. Older men with a lot of younger girls (models/actress types) had filled the bar area. Must be ‘seeking arrangement’ night, I thought. Although, that's a sight all too familiar in a city where one never truly grows old and where the most beautiful women of America end up in search of an acting career. As the bartender prepares my regular drink I get a text from her.
I should have known something was wrong when I got a text from her saying "Is it ok to park my car far? Are we going for a walk afterwards?" This isn’t a text I usually get from chicks I've never met. But didn't make anything of it and simply send her a smiley face.
She finally showed up. I was impressed that she looked even better than her pics. I learned later that she danced salsa, she said and that's why she had that ‘perfect’ body. As she made herself comfortable, I got the bartender's attention and ordered her a drink. I went through with my routine. My style is very laid back. I like pauses in my conversations, look around, make her break the silence by sometimes looking her up and down and start slow kino by telling her "it's so loud I have to whisper this in your ear". The rest is pretty obvious.
After about 45 minutes, the convo gets sexual. She had a degree in psych, so in my experience that's pretty fucked up to begin with. I have never met a sane girl with a degree in psych. Why is it that girls that study mental functions and behavior are all crazy? Anyhow, she wants to know how wild I am. I am pretty wild but have made a habit of not sexualizing conversations on first dates till after I fuck them. Yet, I cannot resist and ask her about how wild she is. This is where my head starts spinning.
"I don’t want you to judge me but guess what I have in the trunk of my car", she says.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Ok here it goes. I like forests, trees. I have a bow and arrow, a plastic garbage bag and cleaning equipment."
"I thought you were going to tell me about your sex life." Baffled, I thought she was kidding. I was hoping, praying even (and I’m not the religious type) that she was joking.
"Well, I guess you don't know about this whole thing huh" she muttered.
"Forget it. Here...wanna see pictures of me at a monkey farm in Costa Rica? Look at how beautiful the monkeys are."
"Why would you go to a monkey farm? I didn’t even know they had farms with monkeys."
"Maybe we should go for a walk. I need to get some air" She said.
By this time, I should have left but I couldn't. The woman had a bow and arrow in her trunk. Whatever happened next, I was sure I would be implicated somehow if she as much as threw a fit. Thinking quickly, I decided that we should walk in an area with lots of people and then I should say my goodbyes and leave. We do just that. But after a few minutes she proposes to give me a blow job under a bridge. I refuse. I have no problem receiving blow jobs from the most drugged-up bottle whores but will say no if I smell something worse. Crazy women are scary not because of the physical harm they can inflict on you but because of what they can say that can get you in trouble. Borderline psychopaths are able to invent stories that can put a man away for life.
“Don't worry” she says.
"I'm not worried. Just gotta wake up early tomorrow and am really tired." She doesn't buy it.
"If its what's in my trunk that worries you, I won't use it tonight. There's no animals under that bridge anyways." Still confused, I did not want to ask any more questions and for the first time in my life believed that my past sins were coming back to haunt me.
"I don't know what you mean exactly. But I really gotta run. Take care of yourself." And with that I was able to escape onto a street full of people, hoping she gets home (or wherever she resides) alright and that I don’t get a call the next morning about dead animals in the forest!
I got home, made a note “SCREEN FOR PSYCHOPATHS” and thought about the state of higher education. She worked for a local university. Got a high paying salary. Was a beautiful woman. Yet, she was completely and utterly INSANE.