Chloe G. Wilde - Guys around the Globe

On the way home he then asked out of the nowhere whether we would go to his place or mine, and I must say that it was a real pleasure to reject him. Did he really think he could just show up like that after 1.5 years and get me into his bed? My ass! I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went home. He showered me with text messages that night and the next day, and since I hadn’t had sex in months, I agreed to meet him the following evening, when I literally went over to my neighbor’s for sex. As simple as that. Romance is sometimes highly overrated, and there is something to shagging one’s neighbor, I must admit.

The following day both of us went out of town for the weekend, and it was nice to be all excited about a new lover, waiting to see him again. But I already knew I didn’t want a relationship with him, even though I couldn’t yet pinpoint why. After both of us had returned from our weekend trips, we met again for dinner. At the restaurant, the waiter asked whether we wanted to start with a glass of champagne, to which… Hm. I just realized that I haven’t given him a name yet, so let’s call him Dr. Freak – the academic title because he loved to point out that he had a PhD, while the name best describes what I think of him now.

So Dr. Freak suggested we order a whole bottle of champagne of my choice. Alright. I chose. And over the following ten days I was reprimanded repeatedly for my choice, believe it or not. The waiter gave me three options in terms of bubbly, and I chose the brand I like, which is Dom Perignon and which happened to be the most expensive champagne on the list, although I didn’t know that. I was given the choice, so I chose. He didn’t say anything that night, but brought it up the next day in a text message, talking about the fortune he had paid for the champagne. WTF?

Although he ‘scolded’ me jokingly, I didn’t find it the least bit funny. And on top of it he told me that it was ok because it had been a special occasion, i.e. his birthday. At that point I still refused to comment on his moronic behavior, still hoping that he would turn out to be normal after all. It’s not like I deliberately chose the most expensive champagne in the restaurant, I chose the one I like because I had been given the choice. And it’s not like the guy doesn’t have money, he certainly does as he loves to brag about his possessions and the amounts he paid for them. The expression on his face when he’d boast about his acquisitions was quite hilarious. While stating how much he’d paid for something, he’d stare at me with the expression of a calf, wide open eyes staring at me expectantly, waiting for some sort of approval, I assume? But instead of admiring him and ooooohing and aaaaahing I was trying hard to keep my sarcastic remarks to myself. It takes a lot more to impress me than dropping names and price tags. So I simply stared back at him with the same calf-like expression.

The freakiest thing, however, was what ensued that same night at his place. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, he started mumbling some incomprehensible things in a very strange voice. It sounded like a warped version of a stupidly giggling Beavis or Butthead, it was utterly creepy and I was about to get out of bed and run home. And I am so not kidding or exaggerating. I asked him what on earth was wrong with him, and he replied that he had only been joking. I’ve certainly met my fair share of freaks in my life, but this gave me some serious chills as I sensed that this wasn’t merely a seemingly über-proper businessman in his 40s goofing around. He probably sensed that I was about to leap out of the window and decided to hid his multiple personalities for the time being.

The next morning, as he was opening the bedroom door to go make coffee, he once again started talking with that strange voice, telling some imaginary crowd (addressing them in plural voice with his Arnold accent) to move out of the way. Was this Austrian humor I didn’t understand or signs of complete and utter mental derangement?

Apart from huge differences in our mental health, the two of us were on a completely different wavelength in every way. Although I might be ‘unusual’ (as one of my exes once described me), at least I am not insane. I am a strong-willed person, and I like men who are equally as strong-willed and who are unusual, but I am not into deranged freaks. I am also not a morning person, but Dr. Freak would usually wake up around 5 a.m. to go running or biking, even if the temperature outside is far below zero. Obviously he didn’t go running when I spent the night at his place, but he was hyperactive way too early, which drove me up the wall. But even though I might be a bit grumpy in the morning, I am polite enough to reply to a “Good morning”. He remarked once that I was so sweet to reply to his morning greeting, his ex would usually only order a coffee and light a cigarette without replying to his morning greeting. And why would I want to know that? Would you tell something like this to a person you basically just met?

But the best announcement was yet to come (and this is still the morning after the champagne and voice incidents), when he proudly announced that he was ready to have a relationship with me! That certainly woke me up, and I told him straight to his face that I didn’t want a relationship. At first he was quiet, then he said it was alright, we could just get together here and there and have sex, plus we could travel together, or as he defined it later on in a text message, we could be ‘fuck bodies’. Perfect! Little did I know that his hurt ego could not handle my rejection of a relationship so generously offered to me on his part.

So we started our ‘fuck bodies’ relationship, and slowly his behavior started to change, he became less attentive and extremely cold. I brought up his cold behavior once and he replied that I simply couldn’t expect all the goodies since we were merely fuck buddies. And if that statement wasn’t already pathetic enough, he added that I was such a nice person that he felt sorry for hurting me deliberately!?! Basically he was punishing me for not wanting a relationship by treating me like a cheap whore. He was probably hoping that I would change my mind and run into his arms, begging him to become his official girlfriend. Well, he can wait for all eternity, for all I’m concerned.

But the freak show was far from over yet. At one point I had a friend in town and Dr. Freak invited us out for dinner one night. Since my friend was here on business, she brought along a Greek colleague, and when I asked the Austrian nutter whether he would mind if her colleague joined us for dinner, he joked that he had no problems with financially supporting Greece (Greece was experiencing a huge financial crisis at that point). Huh? I was still trying to make sense of his very odd sense of humor, but obviously we don’t live on the same plane.

The evening went fine, despite the fact that Dr. Freak immediately told the Greek guy in detail how we’d met, basically claiming his stake so the Greek guy wouldn’t get any ideas. I found this extremely annoying considering that we were not in a relationship, but I was still trying to stay positive and not make a fuss. As I’ve been getting older, I have learned to control my temper and to give people a second chance, so I was really holding onto myself during the dinner not to kick him in the ribs during the dinner. Dr. Freak insisted that he pay for the dinner. Great. But like the champagne bottle, this was not the last I was to hear about the fact that he had paid for the dinner. How stingy can you be? Don’t pretend to be some big shot by paying the bill and then rub it in a dozen times. If you’re stingy, fine, but don’t pretend to be generous.

The first week after our initial sexual encounter, while he probably still believed that we would end up in a relationship, Dr. Freak had proposed a weekend at the coast, to which I agreed and which I looked forward to. The weekend before the scheduled trip we spent a whole afternoon together, which included lots of sex (because that was the only department where we got along very well), but also lots of talk, including references to the dinner with my friend. I told him straight-out that he shouldn’t have insisted on paying if he didn’t want to and that he should stop going on about it. This shut him up, but a bit later he began a monologue about his ex, how he had bought her two Louis Vuitton purses (although the number varied from two to four in his subsequent story-telling), how he had gone to Cyprus with her and how she had drunk 1,500 euros worth of champagne in five days and that it was just ridiculous, that she was a golddigger, bla, bla, bla... So? Why would I want to hear about that?