The Bedazzler

The Bedazzler

I can't even try to pretend to take credit for this story, but it is definitely top 5 material, at least, so I begged my friend to include it. She was happy to oblige. I wrote it in first person because every detail is etched in my brain. I beg her to tell me the story again and again. Every time that I hear it, I am considering letting some kind of authority know about this guy's bizarre and disturbing behavior while I simultaneously try my hardest not to pee in my pants from laughing so hard - hope everyone of you experiences all of those sensations and more!

stone. fox.

 Background Info:

 His name: Walter

His age: 35

My age: 25¹

His drug of choice: Pina Colada²
 
 

My drug of choice: Vodka Cranberry³

How we met/Our first “date”: A bar in Atlanta, GA^4,5

Length of Relationship: I use the term “relationship” extremely loosely here, but I’ll give it a solid two and a half months… including being in the same room with each other on exactly three occasions, one of which was the first time we met. Ahem.

Why it started: I am still not clear on anything actually starting… but it definitely ended.

• 1. I would call the age difference a red flag, but honestly, it didn’t seem too bad to me at the time… at least, not in hindsight… compared to everything else… shudder. 
• 2. Dude. There’s someone tied up in your basement. I’m sure of it. 
• 3. Hold the cranberry. 
• 4. I combined “how we met” and “our first date” because we never actually HAD a first date. This will be more important when the bedazzler enters the picture. Wait for it. 
• 5. I was visiting family in Atlanta, but lived in Nashville. He was in Atlanta on business, but lived in Denver. This detail will also be important, but before the bedazzler enters the picture. Try to keep up.

 The Story:          

      I was in Atlanta visiting family around Thanksgiving several years ago, and I went out to some local establishments with a friend one night. While waiting at the bar for my double vodka cranberry⁶, I locked eyes with a thirty-something guy who was decently attractive, well-dressed and with a few other men. He sauntered on over to where my friend and I were well on our way to an entertaining evening, and I noticed that he was drinking a Pina Colada⁷, but I decided not to judge the guy based on his choice in public alcoholic beverages⁸. I learned that his name was Walter, he was thirty-five and in town on business. Apparently he did quite well financially, as his choice in brand of clothing was impressive, even if his outfit looked like it had been picked out by his secretary.

• 6. Hold the cranberry
• 7. UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR, SIR!!
• 8. You know those assholes who walk around saying, “I don’t have any regrets… every choice that I have made has made me who I am today!” and “YOLO!”??? Not this girl. I regret the hell out of not judging his psychotic ass.

          Nevertheless, we talked casually for a few hours, my friend and I and he and some of his co-workers. Around midnight, we all did the polite exchange of numbers, and headed on our merry ways, never to see or hear from Walter again⁹… or so I thought.

• 9. Because, honestly, as a twenty-five year old woman, I had   learned that just because a man asks for your number, that is CERTAINLY no indication that he is interested in further communication, much less actually putting forth the effort to be in your presence again. These kinds of assumptions are just silly.

     
        After I got back to Nashville I was really busy with working, planning for the upcoming Christmas holidays, etc. etc. and when Walter texted every week or so, I politely responded, asked how he was doing and we would carry on in that manner on and off for an hour or so. We spoke on the phone for about twenty minutes once. No big deal… Imagine my surprise¹¹ when I received a Christmas card that included pictures of his family. Whom I had never met. Ever. With a letter attached telling me what little Ellen asked Santa for and how Uncle Bob reacted to his Radiation treatments. Really dude?! Who in the shit ARE these people??? So I thought that was really weird, and when he asked if I had received it I dismissed it with a noncommittal response like “Oh yeah, such cute kids…” or something to that effect. About a week or so later, I received another package and opened the envelope to find a jewelry box¹². After I recovered from the cardiac arrhythmia that this box induced, I got up the nerve to open it. Inside I found a simple pearl pendant on a silver chain. Hm…. Not too shabby, not too fancy, not terribly alarming. A decent gift, albeit a little over the top for someone I met once, but it could be worse…. Welllllllll, it got worse when I read the note that said he had “searched and searched for the perfect pearl for his perfect girl the last time that he was scuba diving.”¹³

        I was totally freaked out and called my mom to ask for her advice, but she was so hell-bent on me meeting a “nice, rich man” that she ignored the warning signs and guilt-tripped me into continuing to talk to him. I thanked him for the gift and continued to entertain his weekly text messages. Whatevs.
 

• 11. Read: mortal terror
• 12. It had a key in it with a hand-written note that read: the key to my heart. Just kidding. But wouldn’t that have been TOTES ADORBS if he had done that?! No. It wouldn’t have been. Perhaps if we were in the sixth grade, but grown folks don’t do that silly shit, mmkay?
• 13. WHICH COULDN’T HAVE BEEN MORE THAN A DAMNED DAY AFTER YOU MET ME. FRRREEEEEEAK!

          During our time at the bar, Walter and I had discussed my love for snow skiing and how that closely rivals my obsession with Celine Dion¹⁴, which could probably be reasonably controlled with pharmaceutical intervention. But I digress… A little bit closer to Christmas, I received another package from Walter. When I opened it, however, my emotions were seriously conflicting – it was a ski pass for the biggest four ski mountains in Denver and it was good for the rest of the season!!! This is a luxury that I could never afford, costing around $500, and as I already told you all, I absolutely LOVED to ski. The following was my disjointed, confused internal dialogue: “I thought they had to put your picture on those for identification…. Wonder what they did for the pictu…oh… AH! It’s my MySpace profile picture. Hmmm. How did he attach it? Oh, he glued it. Oh. My. God…. But it’s a perfectly good ski pass. It would be a shame not to just keep it for a rainy day…” So I kept it. Shut up. I love to snow ski and anyways I was going to visit a friend at the end of January and I could use it then. After all, the note said, “For you to use whenever you’re in town.” So there. Problem solved. 

• 14. If you weren’t already sure that this isn’t a “Courtney story” then there ya go. I’m a lot of things, but a Celine Dion groupie is not one of them.

          After Christmas, Walter and I were discussing that Celine Dion was coming to Nashville and of course I was dying to go¹⁵. Walter mentioned that he knew someone who could get some tickets on the fifth row. WHAAAAAAT?!?! I didn’t give a SHIT who I had to go with, fifth row tickets to Celine was worth the price. I did mention that my best friend, Leslie and her husband would love to go, too¹⁶… might as well milk this cow for all it’s worth, right? 

• 15. “My heart willllll go onnnnnnnn ayayayayyayannnnnddddd oonnnnnnnnnn….”        
• 16.  Apparently, though, her husband wasn’t quite the Celine fan we had thought he was… who knew?

          Walter comes to town the weekend of the concert and he and I, along with Leslie and her husband, get settled in our seats for the show. I was completely in awe of Celine and there was one part where she was standing on stage, in this magnificent sparkly black dress¹⁷, with the stage wind whipping through her hair and making her fragile little malnourished body look like a twig ready to snap at any moment, and I just could not take my eyes off of her. 

utterly captivating

      Walter noted my splendor and asked if I was enjoying myself. I replied, without looking at him, that yes, I loved the song she was singing. Walter then said, “How cool would that be if she could sing it one day at our wedding?”¹⁸ I pretended not to hear him and continued staring unblinkingly at my idol. 

• 17. This will be an important detail later…
• 18. Now, in hindsight, I’m thinking “whaaaaaaaat? Our wedding? Some huh? What is this fool on tonight?” But at the moment, I either didn’t hear it   or I made the subconscious decision to completely ignore it in favor of enjoying the rest of the concert. Either way, it wasn’t brought up again and it wasn’t an issue.

          After the concert was over, Walter and I went back to his hotel room¹⁹ where we promptly went to sleep… not touching at all. I awoke the next morning to find Walter awake and staring at me. I tried to smile and break the tension of me realizing what a damned creep he was, but he was dead serious about watching me sleep, apparently. I made up some excuse as to why I had to leave, and got the hell outta dodge with a quickness that a Kenyan runner would envy. 

• 19. He had asked, I had felt obligated since he had spent so much money on the concert…

          I was so freaked out by his smothering behavior at the hotel that my responses to his texts became nonexistent. This did not invoke any kind of discussion with Walter, so I was happily thinking that he must have picked up on my subtle hints and gotten the message²⁰, until I went to Colorado the next week²¹. 

• 20. Thank ya Jesus.
• 21. No, Jesus. Why you gotta do it to me, Jesus? Can’t we skip this lesson, Jesus?

          About two days into my four day visit to Denver, my friend and I returned to her place after skiing all day²². We had showered, and poured ourselves some wine when my text message alert went off. I looked at the screen of my phone and instantly felt all of the blood drain out of my face… It was from Walter, and it read: “You’ll never believe who I saw today on Keystone (one of the four ski mountains)…”²³. I responded, “Who?”, knowing very well who he meant, and he said “I saw a girl who looked JUST LIKE YOU.”²⁴ 

• 22. Hell yes, I used that ski pass. It was a gift, and had already been paid for… what was I supposed to do, throw it away??
• 23. Homie, how you gonna act like you have recognized me in full ski attire, helmet and goggles??!!
• 24. At this point, I’m beyond creeped out because I know that there’s no way he would have just “seen” me on the mountain. It’s much more likely that he has been stalking the ski pass and monitoring when and where I checked in, rode the lifts, etc. Clearly, I’m going to be murdered and then he's gonna use my skin as a lampshade.

"My! What charming decor!"

          I decided that it would be best not to respond to that last text message and was able to enjoy myself for the last couple days of my trip without incident… until I arrived at the airport for my flight home to Nashville. I was milling around near my gate, people watching, when I spotted a Starbucks and decided that I’d like to get some coffee. I was walking back toward my gate, coffee in hand, when I saw Walter across the crowd, staring directly at me²⁵. I tried to continue moving my head and eyes as if I hadn’t noticed him and took all of my things about five gates down the terminal, with a destination somewhere in Maine, hoping that he had lost me in the crowd and perhaps wouldn’t be able to find me again. As I am sitting there trying not to be terrified, a thought occurs to me: since 9-11, people without a ticket have not been allowed past security, AND he didn’t know the details of my trip, such as my date of departure. SO, one can only deduce that he has purchased a ticket on both days since he “saw” me on the mountain and stalked the Nashville departure gates all damned day?!?!²⁶
 

• 25. Have y’all seen “Sleeping With the Enemy”????? Mmmm hmmmm. Next thing I know, he’s gonna have all of my canned goods organized and my hand towels straightened.
• 26. ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod

        

     
       I remained at this foreign gate listening to the overhead intercom intently in case my flight gets called so that I didn’t miss boarding my flight. All of a sudden I look up to see Walter, carrying a medium-sized black duffel bag, sit down directly across from me²⁷. 

my body would totally fit in there...

       He simply says, “Hi.” Completely flabbergasted and near speechless, I glance around to make sure someone is close-ish and reply with “Hi, Walter.” He stares at me intently, not saying anything else. Just sitting with the duffel bag between his feet and his hands folded on his lap. Silently. Like some kind of damned gargoyle or something. Finally getting up the nerve to speak, he says something to the effect of “How could you come to Denver without telling me you’re here?” I told him that I was visiting a friend and that I had planned the trip before he and I had even met, so I had seen no need to inform him. I also pointed out that we had not spoken in a few weeks and so I had assumed that our communications were over. He promptly replied, “Oh, it’s never been over for me…. In fact, I made you something.” He beams as he reaches toward the duffel bag, and says “You know I’ve been taking that knitting class?”²⁸ 

not hot. at all. 

         He goes on, “Well, that black sparkly dress that Celine Dion wore that you loved? I MADE YOU ONE!!!” He excitedly unzips the duffel bag and produces an atrocious black bedazzled dress with a practiced flourish. He sits, positively glowing, awaiting my reaction. Deciding that he must have some sort of assault weapon in there too, since only a damned crazy fool would behave in this manner, I got up, grabbed my things and left for my gate without another word to Walter. I was terrified, embarrassed, and extremely anxious to get home. I sat directly between to big burly men who looked scary and waiting for my plane to arrive, cautiously scanning the crowd the entire time. 

• 27. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
• 28. Uhhhhhhmmmmmmmm… no. Nope, don’t remember that small detail, which would be so memorable that I’m certain I’d recall it. Why, you ask? BECAUSE I DON’T ASSOCIATE WITH MEN WHO KNIT!!!!!! That’s why, asshole.

          I made it home safe and sound early that evening and called my mother to tell her what had happened. She was appalled (finally!) and decided that it was for the best that Walter no longer be a part of my life, a point which I agreed with wholeheartedly. The next morning there was a knock at my door and I opened it to find a FedEx envelope that had been overnighted to my apartment. There was no address, so I absentmindedly opened it to find a seven page letter from Walter detailing how I had broken his heart and crushed his hopes and dreams. I threw it in the trash can and set about blocking him from contact on all social media sites as well as email and cell phone. That was the last that I ever heard from Walter. He is probably married to some poor twit now, and little does she know that he is the next BTK…
 

hide ya kids, hide ya wife

DJ Regi-Reg

The Up-and-Coming DJ (obviously his name wasn't really Regi - I have dated some fellas with odd names, but Regi would be a deal-breaker, especially spelled that way!)

… only he wasn't this cool. DJ Regi-Reg REPRESENTIN!!

Background Info:

His name: He went by the name of Regi (pronounced like “Reggie” but only spelled with one g, because he was way cooler than anyone else who had ever spelled the name Reggie).

My age: 19

His age: probably the same, although I don’t remember discussing it.

His drug of choice at the time: the multiple times daily marijuana cigarette and anything with Jagermeister in it. ick. 

i canNOT do some jager. simply cannot.

My drink of choice at the time: Anything with Blue Curaçao.

i could seriously vomit right now.

How we met: Sophomore English class at MTSU¹.

Our first date: I don’t think we ever actually went on a “date” per se².

Length of relationship: three weeks, tops…

Why it started: he was the first boy to pay me any attention after the coke head. That should suffice as explanation.

1. I remember this semester vividly. It was the first semester since the coke head debacle. I was super focused on school, commuting from home (thirty minutes from school), taking 18 credit hours and was extremely active in my sorority, even running for office. I was also taking Hydroxycut (the old school Hydroxycut with ephedra – back when OTC diet pills actually worked) and usually only ate about ½ of a ham sandwich per day (i was accidentally starving myself as a side effect of the ephedra and my hectic schedule). I was wearing a hot pink Kappa Delta shirt and jean shorts… my hair was styled curly and half-up. It is forever etched in my memory… Ahhhh, the one that got away.2. This, unfortunately, can be added to the list of recurring themes. Fellas, if I might be permitted to digress momentarily: what in the hell has given you all the idea that it is okay to only hang out with a girl behind closed doors, never taking her out in public or treating her to dinner and/or a movie?!! What’s that you say? Oh, it’s the fact that we, as women, not only accept this kind of behavior, but come back for more again and again? Oh…. Well touché, then. Moving right along… (FYI to the ladies AND the gentlemen (and my current self) – we are worth MORE THAN THIS!!!!!)

 The Story:

      I had been eyeing Regi for the entire semester. He seemed to be a bit of a bad boy³ with his New Balances and sweat pants.

I don't know what it is with me and some New Balance tennis shoes…. but damn! I love 'em!

         I realize that this outfit sounds terrible, but he actually looked cute. He rarely spoke in class and when he did, it was just a few words. Regardless, I wanted him to want me. The planets finally aligned and we were assigned to a group project together… with the most annoying girl in class, who was a total trash ball. We sat down to work on the project and Ms. Trash herself was the one making Regi smile instead of ME making him smile. This was NOT going as planned, and quite frankly was unacceptable behavior. I became discouraged, quiet, and withdrawn⁴. At the end of class, I grabbed my bag and exited the classroom. To my surprise, Regi was in hot pursuit and he asked for my number. I’m sure he gave me some song and dance in order to obtain my phone number, but I honestly can’t recall what was discussed other than him saying he had been waiting for me to talk to him all semester (eeeeeeeepppppppp!!!!!!!), all I know is that I was REALLY excited.

           

3. Ladies, we’ve all had our flings with bad boys. There seems to be something written in the female DNA that absolutely REQUIRES us to have some kind of roll in the proverbial (or literal) hay with a bad boy. Most of us, thank ya Jesus, get it out of our system after one… or two.
4. I know this is impossible for y’all to imagine.

            I also can’t remember how much time lapsed between when he got my number, when he actually called, and when we got together⁵. I do, however, remember thinking as I approached his apartment that it closely resembled government sanctioned housing, and I was a little bit (read: a LOT) alarmed. I went inside and proceeded to play with his Pit Bull puppy, Briley. She was about eight weeks old, aptly named “after the street where she was born” (no lies – that’s a true story) and she was mean as a damned snake. Now, don’t get me wrong, y’all know I’m a huge Pit advocate, but this little bitch was inbred or something. I have NEVER been around a dog like this one. She was a ferocious beast, biting and shaking human flesh at every opportunity. He ended up giving her away and who knows what happened to the poor pup. Anyways – I digress…

            During this “date” Regi made two grave errors, which will be discussed in detail individually. Firstly, after learning that Forrest Gump was, is, and always will be my favorite movie of all time, he inaccurately quoted how many Dr. Peppers Forrest drank while waiting to meet the President⁶. He proceeded to argue with me about it until we were forced to watch that section of the movie so that I could prove him wrong.

5. I found a journal that I had kept for a few months during this time of my life (my          journal habits have always been half-hearted and sporadic) that detailed my feelings for Regi (it is KILLING me not being able to write his actual name – but alas, I don’t want to get sued, so Regi it is). Next to the date of the first entry dealing with mine and Regi’s romance were several hearts, which is a big deal for me. I don't dole out a heart willy-nilly, much less "several" hearts. Also, he had apparently told me that he had been having “that feeling that runs through you” all weekend after he had gotten my number. My nineteen year old heart soared – my almost thirty-one year old heart wonders if he had diarrhea pains, most often referred to as “the hot cramps” by yours truly (that one’s for you, Ty!). I say all of this to reiterate the point that I was a GONER from minute one. I was vulnerable and he happened to strike while the gettin’ was good (In actuality, I honestly don't think he had any ulterior motives. Regardless, it was still Bad news bears).
6. Brownie points to those of you who know the answer WITHOUT looking it up!!

            The second error was Regi revealing just how unintelligent he actually was, which, consequently, was quite unintelligent. That conversation proceeded as follows:

Me: I love dill pickles. They should be their own food group.

Regi: Ewww! You eat pickles?? Sick!

Me: <laughing> What? Why are pickles sick?

Regi: Don’t you know how a pickle becomes a pickle?! <with a look of utter revolt on his face>

Me: Uhhhh… It sits in pickle juice for a while? <totally missing the memo on why this is so disgusting>

Regi: NO!!! It, like, goes through a chemical change!!!

Me: So… you don’t eat any food that’s gone through a chemical change?

Regi: OF COURSE NOT!

Me: So… you don’t eat cooked food? Ice? ……

Regi: Gosh, you’re really smart….

Me: Mmmm hm….

"Eeeewwwwwwwwww….."

            At some point that night I met his sister (she stopped by) and distinctly remember her wearing really short jean shorts with tall white socks and k-swiss shoes. She was also a fan of extremely dark lipliner (I’m talkin dark brown eyeliner) and clear gloss. WRECK.

I can neither confirm nor deny that this is, in fact, her… ok, it's not. 

pretty sure she was going for exhibit A

but she ended up with exhibit B… only she was Caucasian.

            We didn’t hang out after that, but for years to come he would affectionately introduce me as I entered Nashville and Murfreesboro area clubs where he happened to be DJing. I would go to the DJ booth to flirt with him, bring him shots and request songs. I always got a birthday shout out, and my song requests were ALWAYS played… It was cool. I’ve definitely had faux-mances that have ended in worse ways. To my knowledge he is still DJing in the area. Nice enough guy, but come on, man. Let’s get a big boy job with big boy hours already. We’re THIRTY. It’s not cool anymore (if it ever was).

Regi-Reg's future gigs in cheap hotel lobbies. I love a man with ambition!