Dates with Norman Bates

As I mentioned in my previous post, dating has never been my strong suit. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m too awkward, too considerate, or just flat out boring. Fuck it, maybe I’m just ugly. After several, disastrous, Tinder dates and a night out with my neighbor’s uncle I began giving up on my search for Mr. Right. The other night I was laying in bed watching Peaky Blinders when suddenly I heard my phone go off. I checked my phone, and had noticed that someone on Tinder had messaged me three times in a row. Weird. I opened up my Tinder app, and braced myself:

“Hi my name is Chris, and I’m so excited that we matched on here. Gosh. You’re so beautiful. I really like your 1950’s aesthetic, and you’re just super cute.”

At first, I was flattered by his words. It was nice to have someone compliment me. Hell, I was just impressed that someone messaged me using proper grammar and didn’t automatically reference his genitals. He was cute too, which made it all the better. He was 34 years old, and had a really generic bio, but I was willing to look past those things.

I messaged him back and asked how his evening was going. For a brief moment he seemed genuine, and I was really interested in talking to him. We began chatting over Tinder for a few hours, and then he gave me his number. I had sent him a message over text, and he immediately called me afterward.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said. I was a little concerned and thrown off at first, but it had been ages since I had talked with someone over the phone. We talked for three hours. Three fucking hours of him telling me about the women who had wronged him in the past, and bitching about his ex wife. About an hour into the conversation I immediately wanted to hang up the phone. Half way through our conversation he began complimenting me again; and I mean laying it on thick.

“How aren’t you married already? You just seem like the sweetest woman ever. If you were mine I’d make you a honest woman,” he said.

I awkwardly laughed and thanked him. What else was I fucking supposed to say? Towards the end of the conversation he had asked me to go for coffee with him on Tuesday. I reluctantly agreed to go, and he became offended. “We talked for three hours, and you don’t want to go for coffee?” he said. It wasn’t that. I just didn’t want to awkwardly laugh at everything, and be nervous. Nevertheless, we decided to get together on Tuesday.

Tuesday evening approached, and Chris was supposed to pick me up at 7:00 P.M. at my apartment. I got home from class around 5:30 P.M. and began getting ready. I put on a little bit of makeup, changed my outfit, and sat and patiently waited for his arrival. I had decided to sit on the porch with my neighbors, who immediately started teasing me. At 6:45 P.M. he had pulled into my driveway. I hopped into his car, and he had pulled out of my driveway like a bat out of hell. “Are we late to something?” I asked. “No, I just didn’t like the way your neighbors were staring at me,” he said.

We began driving through Sunbury, and he had asked me what I wanted to do. I suggested coffee, going for a drive, or maybe grabbing something to eat. “Nonsense, a girl like you deserves so much more than the typical first date,” he said. He suggested that we take a trip to the nearest casino which was about an hour away. “I’m not super flushed on cash right now,” I said. He suddenly grabbed my hand, and started rubbing it. “No sweetheart, whatever you want, I want to give you it all,” he said. I was so confused. Like is this how dates work now?

He didn’t wait for me to respond, and started typing the name of the casino into his GPS. As we started driving towards Bloomsburg he casually grabbed my thigh. “You’re so curvy, like holy hell you’re basically a pin up,” he said. The compliments continued and got creepier. “I feel like you would never hurt me; you’re not like the bitches I dated,” he said. I was debating jumping out of his car when we finally made it to the casino. I ran to the bathroom, and instantly tried to text my roommate, but realized I didn’t have service. Fuck. I came out of the bathroom, and Chris had handed me $100 to spend at the casino. “It’s all yours my angel eyes,” he said.

I stood still for a moment, and he had grabbed my arm. We began walking towards the slot machines. I started frantically pressing the buttons; I needed to get the fuck out of here. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he had been taking pictures of me the whole time. I had asked why he was taking pictures of me, and he became offended again. “To commemorate our time together; I’m going to add these to a scrapbook,” he said. SCRAPBOOK? What the fuck. Did this guy have locks of my hair saved in his pocket to put in the scrapbook as well? We didn’t even take any pictures together. He was only taking side pictures, and pictures of the back of my head.

After I gambled away the $100 he had given me, he asked me if I wanted to grab some dinner quick. I mentioned earlier in the evening that my stomach was upset, and I should probably be heading home soon. He laughed and said “don’t be silly, my princess needs to eat.” PRINCESS? We ended up going to one of Guy Fieri’s restaurants, which was kind of cool. Upon arriving, the host sat us at a booth near the bar, and he tried sitting next to me. “I think you should sit on the other side; I’m a messy eater,” I said. He moved to the other side other booth, and began rubbing my hand again.

“I can’t wait to take you to Denver with me. I can’t wait to make you happy, and give you everything you want,” he said.

I explained to him that I was already happy. I have an internship, I’m almost done with college, and I have a handful of people that legitimately care about my well-being. He became angry, “you don’t mean to tell me you like it out here with these trailer trash, small minded fucks?” he said. Lucky for me, our food was brought out and I didn’t have to answer. I took a few bites of the pulled pork sandwich I had ordered, and became really nauseous. He noticed my discomfort, but kept talking and laughing. It was like he was on a date with himself. After dinner we piled into his car. We sat there for what seemed like hours in silence. Suddenly, he grabbed my face and shoved his tongue into my mouth. I panicked, and began coughing; how romantic right? “That was amazing baby; damn you’re hot,” he said. We finally started driving home, and after an hour of driving, a stop to Wawa, and me telling him to “get the fuck off me,” we finally made it to my apartment. We both got out of the car, and he walked me to my apartment. “I will see you soon my sweet, beautiful, cupcake,” he said. I watched him leave, locked all my doors, and waited for the “I made it home text.”

At 2:30 A.M. I had thanked him for taking me out, but told him that I wasn’t interested. He immediately blocked me on every social media platform I had added him on, and sent me this:

“I’ve been duped by girls like you before, run along I’m done with you.”

Neat. I’ve always wanted to go on a date with Norman Bates; not.