Classic Dating Story #1: MILF Porn and the missing peanut butter

If you’re a close friend of mine, chances are you know about my ex-boyfriend A.  I’m dying to put his full name on here – because he ended up being such a crackpot – but I’ll be the bigger person and just use his first initial: A.

I met A on match.com about 1.5 years ago.  I’ll admit it; when we first began speaking online, I was smitten.  I thought he was the perfect person for me – he was a only a few months younger than me, was Jewish, and was looking for a steady relationship.  On our first date, we met in Providence (where he lived) and had a really amazing day that went on forever.  We shopped at the mall (what Jersey girl doesn’t love a date at the mawl?) and then had dinner at the Melting Pot.  We sat in a dimly lit booth in the back of the restaurant and shared a long meal of fondue.

We said goodbye; both of us dreamed of our next date.  He drove to my place the next day.  I had just moved in and was still unpacking, settling in, and getting used to my new home.  A. didn’t waste any time making himself at home.  He threw his crap in my living room and I cringed.  I was trying really hard to make my apartment a “home” and keep it organized.  The last thing I wanted was his shit everywhere.  Then he tossed his keys and wallet into my expensive glass bowl on my counter.  I nearly jumped on him (and not in a good way!).

But I was still smitten.  Or was I?  The clues started showing up that maybe he wasn’t the one.  First, his mother called him several times during the day.  She knew he was with me. But, still, she needed to call her baby.  Then, he admitted to me that his mother’s basement was filled with bridal shower accoutrement.  “You see,” A told me, “my mom is dying for me to get married.  During my last relationship, she was convinced we were going to get married so she went out and bought everything for a bridal shower.”

But there had been no engagement.  In fact, she had dumped him.

So here I was, listening to the story of the basement of doilies, bells, and other decorations.  And I began to freak out.  I felt as though the basement was physically choking me.  I wasn’t ready to get married.  I just met this guy.

The next weekend was my birthday and housewarming party.  My parents were coming into town.  A. invited himself to my apartment on Friday night, so I suggested he come for dinner with my family.  A. described himself as having “undiagnosed ADHD” but trust me, I could have diagnosed him in 30 seconds.  During the dinner, he didn’t shut up for a minute.  He rambled on and on and on and on and on…..and on and on and on.  And apparently, as I learned later that weekend, he had a thing for older woman and proceeded to stare at my female family member’s breasts through dinner.  Yes, including my very own mother.

I told my family privately to say goodbye to A.  He wasn’t going to survive the weekend.

A few days later, I emailed him to tell him it wasn’t going to work out.  He called me and left a scathing message, telling me how my family was amazing, that they’d have made great in-laws, and that I’ll regret what I’ve missed out on.

Gee, A, was I going to miss out on the fact that you were staring at my mom’s boobs or that you were watching MILF porn on my laptop?  (Yep, you read that right).

A. was also a binge eater (takes one to know one).  A few weeks after we broke up, I grabbed my new jar of peanut butter to make a sandwich.  The jar was virtually empty.  A. had secretly eaten the entire jar – most likely one finger-full at a time – probably while watching porn on my laptop.

Needless to say, I was scarred by this experience for a long time.  I regretted my hasty decision to jump into a relationship with this loon.  I hope he’s found his very own MILF.

 

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