The Makeout Bandit.

He was a musician … that wore Burberry … with product in his hair …

We had met while I was in beauty school and he was, as all aspiring anyone’s are at some point, working as a Starbuck’s barista.
He actually asked out the girl friend I always stopped by with out on a date.

I never really thought much about him.  A year or so later I found out he’d been engaged to a friend of a friend… the following year or so, his younger sister that I’d worked with for a long time brought him up again.
It was the dawn of Facebook, and he became my friend. Then he got my number.  Then he started texting and calling.  Eventually we made plans for him to drive from Indianapolis to West Lafayette to take me out to dinner.

I cleaned the apartment, donned some J.Crew, and waited with anticipation.

45 minutes late to start, and strolled through the door without so much as an apology.

After he spent a questionably lengthy period of time in the bathroom, we left for dinner.  A classy sushi joint just a few minutes away… oh if only I knew what was coming…

We arrived only for me to find out that apparently he was best friends with every person in the joint.

I’m not kidding… the owners, the hostesses, the waiters, the kitchen staff, multiple patrons…! He even showed me where his PICTURE WAS ON THE WALL! So I slipped my shoes off as I was shown and dipped into the space where we were seated while he jumped from staff member to staff member and completely ignored me.

I studied the sashimi menu till he dained to sit down.  Instantly this chat-chat-chatterbox took off on a tangent about how he didn’t like my “vibe”…but that he thought he’d like me significantly more if he went out to the car to make out before dinner.


Back to your apartment?


Can we make out during the movie?


As if my refusals to play tonsil-hockey across town weren’t clue enough he reached…across…the…table…to…grab…my…boob!

I jumped back in horror to which he responded “What? Like it’s a sin to grab your boobs?”

I think I can count the times I’ve been left speechless on Mickey Mouse’s 4 fingered hand…but that was one of them.

Luckily I was out with someone who could talk about himself 100% of the time and not find it strange.  Luckily…
After his miso soup, he did manage to pause long enough to ask me…

“Have you dated a lot of black guys?”
“Excuse me?”
“Have you dated a lot of black guys?”
“I’ve been out with a couple…why?”
“They must actually like your body type.”


I painfully got through a roll and some soy sauce, pondering how I ended up there…and then it was time to pay and leave…except that there was a good bit of time left until the movie was starting.
He suggested we round a couple bases.

Uh, no.

(Yes, yes, yes…I realize I should’ve sent him packing…no, I don’t know what I was thinking.)

We decided to go back to my apartment for a bit…I was hoping my roomates would create some kind of diversion.  I tried to gesture with my eyebrows and use sign language of sorts to describe how miserable I was to them while he sat on the couch watching “Jackass” on MTV and snorting with laughter.

A few minutes before the movie, we climbed back into my Jeep and headed to the theatre.  He pop-quizzed me on independent bands I’d never heard of and made fun of what he deemed my country-bumpkinness while proclaiming at every opportunity how cultured, how handsome, how popular, how talented, and how humble he was.

We watched a sob fest starring Don Cheadle and Adam Sandler as he whispered insults into my ear…again, more about my negative “vibe”…

As the credits rolled, I drove us back to my apartment to say goodnight.
I think we awkwardly side-hugged and as he drove away, I bypassed my apartment and ran directly across the hall to my best friend Andrea’s apartment.  I peeled off my velvet blazer, kicked off my heels and started sobbing.
Two sentences…gasp…into my…sob…story of the…squeak…awful…shudder…evening… we heard “KNOCK KNOCK” on the door.

It opened and there he stood.
He’d left his iPod in my car.

I back-hand wiped some of the raccoon black eye smudges of tears and makeup off my face and put my shoes on.  We walked back out to the car along with one of my roommates.
I unlocked the door, snatched his iPod, and handed it back to him.
With not so much as a glance in my direction…he wrapped his arm around my roomie and said…

“Goodnight Babe.”

One night not too many months ago as I lifted my hands in worship during the evening service at my church, I looked up a couple of rows to see him sitting there.

With his fiancee.

I’ll just bet she loves sushi…

and has a great vibe.

Hope today’s tale found you guffawin’ & gigglin’ cuties!

Stay tuned for next week’s episode… “Tambourine Man.”

Of Course He Left His Wallet At Home,


2 responses to “The Makeout Bandit.

  1. i would like to remind you of the many messages you left on my cell phone that night while i was at work “ohmygosh, please please please call me back! i need help!” you were pretty much screaming bloody murder. and when i do call you frantically back you pick up and tell me “i can’t chat, i think it’s rude to talk on the phone in front of people.” rreealllyy? cool.

  2. **I left this comment on the pancake story and meant it for this one =)**
    Sounds like a guy I dated who is now nicknamed “psycho brad”. Overly touchy, comment overload, arm around my back while I’m trying to drive, told me he likes “my type” then said I was “thick”, when I told him we aren’t going to work out he sends a text saying “please like me” , kept changing his AIM because I blocked him……
    Oh psycho brad….I felt bad for him but at the same time I’m not here to train him how to act around a woman!

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