A short essay on how I once ended up dating someone entirely by accident
and regretted pretty much every minute. Now, I have had my fair share of 'what the fuck?' moments in my life, but this stands out as one of my more gargantuan brain=wrong moments.

I'd dropped out of uni and reapplied the following year to a better one, doing a foundation year to get on to the course of my choice. As such, most of the people on my course were mature students or foreign, and I hadn't really made any friends either in my classes or my halls - my block of flats in particular seemed to be populated exclusively by knobheads of the very highest order. My halls were mainly self catered, but twice a week we would wander down to the canteen for a helping of institutional-style pap, or 'college dining', as the university liked to (rather ambitiously - it was shite) call it. I would go at the usual time I ate - around 7:30. This happened to be after pretty much everyone else had finished. So, not making friends there either.

One evening I had somewhere else to be, so I went down early to a packed hall; the tables look rather intimidatingly full of loud and laughing groups. No way I'm intruding so nowhere to sit.

Except... I spot one table with a solitary young man on it, so I sidle over and ask if he minds if I sit with him. 'Not at all,' he smiles, and puts down his book. He seems alright, and we make a bit of small talk whilst I bolt down the congealed gunk the university has the affrontery to call food. Dinner finished, I bid him goodbye and leave. The following week I wander down at my customary time, grab my tray and turn to sit down in the empty hall.

Except... it's not empty. The solitary young man is seated a few tables away, picking disinterestedly at his food - although when he sees me, he perks up and beckons me over. Again, we make small talk and he invites me over to his flat to meet his flatmates, who, inexplicably for students, are out at the pub. So we sit in his kitchen for a bit and chat some more before I wander back to my room. Rinse and repeat for the second college dining of the week, except this time, after discussing what dvds I'd bought with the student loan I should have been spending on textbooks (or beer), he asked if I fancied going to the cinema at some point. Sure, says I, thinking no more of it. Okay, so he's a bit of a loner and a little strange, but it's nice to have made a friend and there's a film out I quite want to see, so why not?

The following week after college dining he invited me over to meet his flatmates again, who were at the pub, again. So, we head to the pub, and imagine my surprise when someone who I consider to be a casual acquantaince, someone I have met a grand total of 4 or 5 times, introduces me as his girlfriend. Drinks are drunk, small talk is talked. As the strange young man gets up to go for a piss, one of his 'mates' leans over and asks me 'Are you really his girlfriend? You seem pretty normal, is all...'. I explain that where I come from an invitation to go to the cinema does not equal hand holding and sexytime privileges, and the 'mate' nods sagely. 'We've not been able to get rid of him since we got here. He's alright in a mental sort of way, I suppose, although he does your head in if you spend any amount of time around him. Are you going to tell him you're not his girlfriend?'.

At that time I was in the middle of a dry patch of Saharan proportions. Foolishly - oh, so, so foolishly, I figured I'd see how it panned out. After all, it was the work of minutes to bin him if he got weird, and besides, how wrong could it go?

Very.

Either taking my silence for assent or it never occurring to his addled brain that asking 'Do you want to see a film' is not the same as 'Would you like to have sex?', it was seemingly carte blanche for him to follow me round everywhere, attempting to stick his tongue rather inexpertly down my throat half the time and rubbing against me like a cat in heat the remaining half of the time. After three days - just three days - I cracked and very gently had the 'I don't think this will work' talk with him. My not inconsiderable capacity for surprise was yet again taxed to its limits the following day when he bounced up to me as normal, pawing and nuzzling and talking bollocks. Following me up to my room and pouting when I politely but firmly closed the door in his face, then texting me bewildered and hurt messages. Two days after that I had a slightly less gentle chat with him about how I didn't really want a relationship right now. The next day - nothing. He's got the message, I thought in relief.

Wrong. The day after that he was back, apologising that he couldn't find his charger the day before, and that he'd rung and rung the bell to my flat but nobody answered so he couldn't get hold of me. A further two days pass, and I have another, even less gentle chat about the direction of our 'relationship', this time making it very, very clear -whilst remaining pleasant - that I am not interested. Yet again, it makes no difference. So I have another chat. And another. Finally, this triggers a spate of increasingly anguished texts of a Morrissey-esque 'I'll write a poem for you in my blood if you'll take me back, I hate my life' nature. Then nothing, for a day or so. Foolishly - incredibly foolishly, in the face of my experience so far - I dare to hope that this is finally it, and he's got the message.

How wrong can one person be? 12 days after my shocked silence was taken for agreement, fell Valentine's day. As he'd taken to coming down to college dining late, as I did, I went early as I thought I'd avoid him that way. Wrong, again. So wrong. He bounced in to the hall like a 6 foot andrex puppy, bearing roses and chocolate and a card with a poem in it, blissfully declaring his love and his belief that we could overcome our problems.

I believe I actually left fingernail marks in my face clutching at it in horror. And I started off pleasant and logical, but got increasingly agitated and strident in response to his 'but, but, I didn't know you felt this way, I love you' and trying to take my hand, before shrieking 'Just leave me the fuck alone!' and him bursting in to noisy sobs.
He then stalked me for a couple of months but was so pathetic that it was laughable rather than scary. I'd apologise for length etc but to be frank I'm glad I never found out.

I still ate the chocolates though.
(berk, Tue 28 Sep 2010, 23:48, 9 replies)

Why did you not report him?
He was obviously a serial killer in the making. The sooner people like that are removed from the human race, the better.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 0:12, closed)

I did, in the end
I was just so baffled and bemused by it all that it didn't really strike me until much later that that's the sort of behaviour exhibited by people who have bits of other people in their deep freeze and suchlike...
(berk, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 0:31, closed)

May I ask what your job is now and what the degree was in?
I thought your story was fantastically written. I'm leaning towards English Literature and some form or editing or simply that you read a lot of books.
(Cogentesque, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 10:30, closed)

Flattered though I am...
I'm afraid you're wrong. I'm a research scientist working in cancer genetics!
(berk, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 15:12, closed)

Ahh - Of course!
All best people are, I placed my studies in Biomedical Sciences as well - girlfriend is in cancer research herself in Southampton :)

The lovely prose must be thanks to all of the thesis ... thesis's ... thesi'I ... writing
(Cogentesque, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 22:37, closed)

I thought
you said it was short?
(Sir Itchalot has a very self-referential signature, Wed 29 Sep 2010, 11:48, closed)

Fortunately for her
she didn't let him show her how short "it" was.
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Wed 29 Sep 2010, 23:34, closed)

A fact for which I am still grateful
five years later...
(berk, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 8:13, closed)

I bet he was hung like a donkey and a proper god in the sack.
Still not worth it for the mental though.
( Maffers I flow kinda strange like Spina Bifida footprints, Thu 30 Sep 2010, 12:10, closed)