The Creeper

The Creeper was nothing like I expected him to be...

I had first discovered him one night while I was cruising the corridors of Match.com. I honestly don't remember who contacted who first. All I remember thinking was that he was hot. A rare find indeed. Clear blue eyes, light brown hair with just the right amount of stubble on his face. Keeps the pretty from taking over the manly you know?

We had little to no communication through email and instead switched over to texting right away. I still remember his first message to me.

“Do you want to come over and get high?”

I know, totally romantic right? Nevermind it was midnight and I had never even heard the mans voice before.

I responded, “Not really. I’d rather meet in a public place first so that we can determine which one of us is the 65 year old gay serial killer.”

And that was the beginning of my texting relationship with The Creeper. For weeks we went back and forth like that.

He would randomly send me texts that said things like, "Make out party?” “Hiii.” “Totalllly.” “Send me a pic?”

All sorts of short creepy incomplete sentences. He would ask me out occasionally, but always at night, always when I already had plans. He has told me we are breaking up a thousand times. He's told me he was finished asking me out even more than that. I would always keep it going. I couldn't help it. I was having way too much fun with the banter. He's actually the only guy I've ever dated that I've called by his Nickname. I say it so often now that he has taken to texting the name to me.

“Whats up Creeper?” has become our normal greeting.

After 3 weeks I began to think we would never meet...and honestly? I was ok with that. At the time I was still depressed from my break up with he who shall be known as “Huge Asshole”. I wasn’t looking to date. I just wanted a distraction from the pain. Match was a good outlet. The Creeper was even better.

That is until a quick visit to my nutritionist shamed me back into dating.
(Yes I have a nutritionist. I know. I’m sooo LA.)

She has this machine that can read every cell in your body and tell if it's out of balance. It may sound kooky, but the thing has been far to accurate for me to discredit. It scans everything from your blood, to your moods. At the end it prints out graphs, nutritional recommendations and an occasional fortune cookie like observation or piece of advise. It had 2 for me:

1.) “Disallowed anger in woman, sexual imbalance”
I took this one as an accusation.

2.) “Remedy to help experience the blissful perspective of deep understanding.”
This one? Not a suggestion. More of a demand.

She found both statements hilarious and immediately emailed them to me for safe keeping. I was not amused. I vowed to prove that snotty ass Machine wrong.

It was time to start dating again so I gave in to The Creeper last week. I had just got home and was bored out of my mind when he text, “Come over. Im drunk and a ton of fuuuuunnnn right now…”

I don’t know what his deal is with stretching out his words.

It was 11:30pm, early for a Creeper message, so I thought, what the hell? Lets do this.

Ofcourse I couldn’t make it that easy for my sworn dating enemy.

Instead I responded, ”Hmmmm, meet you alone in the middle of the night while you're drunk?”

Creeper, “Its not just me. I have my two roommates, my best friend and his friend here. We're all hanging out.”

This guy cant be serious?

Me, “So let me get this straight. You want me to come over in the middle of the night, while you're drunk, to your house, so that I can meet you and your 4 drunk male friends?”

Call me crazy, but in my head I was like, "Ok lets roll!"

Creeper, “Nooooo. We're at the bar down the street from my house. I will totally ditch them if you wanna come.”

Me, “I’m in. Text the address.”

Now hows that for remedying the blissful sexual mood of...whatever the hell that snotty ass Machine said.

So off I drove to Creeperland…I was excited. Excited to do something spontaneous and proactive in my up to now non existent dating life. This seemed perfect. I was in no place emotionally to be dating anyone. The Creeper obviously wasn’t a relationship guy. I could hang out with him and balance out my sexual imbalance or whatever and not have to worry about anyone getting attached. Awesome.

As I got closer, the elation I first felt while driving away from my house began to dissipate. What the hell was I doing? What if he didn’t look like his picture? What if this really was a match.com rapefest? Ooooohhhh lord, The Machine was trying to get me killed!

I pulled out my phone and text my girlfriend, Hippie Chick, “I'm meeting up with The Creeper. His real name is ______ and this is his address and telephone number.”

It wouldn’t save my life, but atleast they would catch the bastard. So having secured life imprisonment for those who had wronged me, I pulled up in front of his house and parked.

My phone rings.  It's the Creeper. My heart jumps a little. Like I said, I had never even heard his voice.

"Please oh please let him not sound like a freak," I thought.

“Where are you?” he said.

Yes! Normal voice. Less bass than I prefer, but for a white boy it would do.
I flashed my car lights so that he could see me and I slowly got out of the car.

All I could see was his silhouette. He was tall. Good. Damn you light shine on his face shine on his face….

I was especially freaked because the only animated version I had seen of the Creeper was of a straight to DVD movie he had made. In the film he played the lead role Douche bag. He had looked slightly over weight with bad hair. Not one part of that guy looked like the headshots I had scene on Match...and on top of that the movie was beyond retarded.

But Hallelujah the light struck his face and not only was he not over weight, but he was identical to his head shot! I wanted to do a happy dance right there!

“Whats up Creeper…,” he says to me.

He's definitely drunk. Not quite falling over but his feet look pretty heavy.

He asks if I want to head back to the bar or go smoke a bowl at his place. I don’t much want to do either so instead I tell him this is his show. He chooses his place. Big surprise. We head inside. Its pretty large and has bottles of booze everywhere. He gets to work making me a drink and packing himself a bowl.

I can't stop staring at him. I find him totally amusing. Such a cutey and he has a way of taking his time when he speaks that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Whats more, I can tell that he is taking in every word I say. I can see him processing their meaning and weighing them out. There are few people out there who’s wheels I can actually see turning. He's one of them and I find it fascinating.

He gives me a tour of the place and then takes me outside to see his room. That’s right. Outside. The man lives in the garage. I can see he's embarrassed. He doesn’t want to show it to me. I guess he paid his way through Grad school and is now paying back $2500 a month in school loans. So for now, a garage bedroom. I make him open it up.

Its pretty much what I expected. Mattress on the floor, clothes piled everywhere, IKEA entertainment center to the right, a rack of clothes to the left. Ok, now I want a hit. He pass’s me the bong and I smoke a bit. I mean, when in Rome right?

“I can't believe I'm showing you this,” he says to me.

Ahhh, Creeper's embarrassed.

I tell him not to worry about it and stand there sipping my drink as he slowly cleans off the only place to sit in the room...his bed. He pauses every now and then to show me a piece of clothing to see if I like it. Funny. The process takes him close to 20 minutes. Stoner.

All of a sudden he stops and looks at me under the light.

“God you remind me of my ex”, he says.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that. Are you like hating me right now?” I ask.

“No,” he says, “Not in a bad way, a good”

Personally I take it as a compliment. I mean if a guy gets reminded of chemistry or sex or any other positive emotions from a past relationship while looking at me, I’m not gonna hate on it.

I ask him what happened with her. Apparently he used to live back East in Manhattan. He was doing well for himself, working a lot (acting I assume) until he met a friends girlfriend from California. I guess they clicked and convinced themselves that he should move out to Cali so that they could be together. She had a son that he adored. He was 3. He said he used to smoke a bowl, and watch cartoons with him for hours. He missed him. The image he painted was very sweet. Well, minus the smoking a bowl while he was watching a 3 year old part but I digress.

"What about her," I ask.

“Huge insane bitch,” he responds.

I don’t push the issue any further. Its interesting how he opened up though. I didn’t think he would be so sensitive. I tell him so.

“So can you answer something honestly for me,” he asks. I take a moment before I say ok.
“Why were you on match?”

I actually wanted to answer this honestly. Or as honestly as I could. I sort of have to with this guy. Everything I say is picked up, looked at, and then filed into the appropriate categories in his head. Up to now he has repeated many of my statements back to me and asked for clarification. I needed to make this as clear and real as possible.

“Well, boredom for the most part," I tell him. "I also thought it would be a way to get my friends off my back about not dating. Figured it would make me look proactive without actually having to date.”

He stares off, processing my answer.

“Yeah, me too," he finally responds. "Boredom. So why weren’t you dating?”

“Bad breakup. Really bad,” I tell him.

He doesn't respond. We sit in silence for a bit. Its comfortable.

For the next hour we just sat side by side on the bed chit chatting about nothing in particular. He would pick up the bong every now and then and take a hit. I don't know how the man is still awake. I would have passed out after bong rip number four.

“I better get going,” I finally tell him.

“Wait,” he says looking concerned. “Um, is it weird that I thought you would sleep here? Its weird isn’t it? I mean I just want to lay down and hold each other…is that weird?”

Yes. Totally weird dude.

He sounds like a shy little boy. I feel bad for him. Personally, I want to head out. I need to work in the morning and this guy is one bong hit away from slamming into a wall. But I think, what the hell? I can spare a few moments for cuddle time. Might as well try to figure out if there's a spark.

I tell him I can't sleep over but I’ll lay with him for a bit. He complains about my lack of enthusiasm.  I tell him to shut up and lay down. I take off my shoes and my jacket. He gets up and turns off the light.

Um, okay.

He lays down first and I turn myself on the bed so that I can lay down next to him. That's when he did the strangest thing ever! I mean, I expected the cuddling to be sort of uncomfortable at first you know? Awkward moments of holding then re-adjusting and then holding again. But instead he reaches out for me and wraps his body around me in this intimate embrace. I mean I can feel the emotional energy coming off the guy! He is hugging and squeezing me the way you would a lover of a few months, not hours. I was so thankful the light was turned off. You should have seen my face. If you look up the words, 'What the fuck is this shit?!' in the dictionary you would see a picture of me staring back at you.

I mean what was he doing? Was it because of the pot and booze? I try to get into it but its impossible. I just don’t have an ounce of intimate to share with this guy. This shit is too funny! This is the first time anyone has ever touched me like this that hadn’t atleast kissed me first.

The kiss finally came. Side note guys, if you plan on making out with a girl, booze and multiple bong hits are a bad combo at 2 in the morning. His mouth and lips are dry. The taste not great.  I try to move past it. His lips are full atleast. I just wish he would stop paying so much attention to my upper lip. I keep tilting my head up trying to move it out of his range but the fool keeps climbing up my face to grab it. I feel like slapping him away! I get a mental picture of a Koi fish opening and closing its mouth on the surface of a pond.

It gets a bit fuzzy at this point. I was a little stoned and tired and this happened over a week ago but long story short? He starts to make his move. There's some ass groping and leg caressing. Unfortunately for him I’m not warming up to it. Its still all so weird! After a while he does finally get into a groove. He starts some system of reaching under my leg and thigh so that his arm can rub across my crotch. I must say. It’s a good system.

“Can I say something? No. Nevermind. You wont want to hear it…” he says.

“Then don’t tell me,” I reply, honestly not caring. Listening to a whiteboy try to play reverse psychology is like watching a 4 year old try to lie. You may humor them for the first few hours but after a while you can't help but ceased to give a shit.

“Oh fine. I really want to make you cum and hear you orgasm but I know you wont because you're Asexual and all,” he finally says. I can feel the grin on his face.

It's an old joke. He has called me, "Asexual," a few times in our past texting. I grin back. Creeper made a funny.

I'm a little speechless. Not because of what he said. I mean maybe its just me but guys say this kind of shit to me all the time. I'm speechless because I feel like he and I are having two completely different experiences here. I mean, I'm just not feeling the sexual chemistry with drunky stoner dude. There's enough to fool around a bit, but there is no Iwanthisguysobadimsoturnedonrightnow feelings coming off of me. I mean, what signals are this guy reading?

Oh wait, nevermind. I get it.

He misinterprets my silence for embarrassment and says, "I know you wouldn't want to but I just want to make you feel good so badly."


I think about what to say to him. I don't want to tell him, "I'm just not that into you", or, "I'm not comfortable or turned on enough to consider something like that." I'm not sure why, but I feel sorry for the guy. I want to let him down easy so finally I decide to tell him another truth.

"Look, I don't want to let you do that because for one, I won't return the favor. Second, I'm not going to sleep with you. I'm not that girl."

All of the above are true and should pass his scrutiny. He responds by telling me that he doesn't expect any of the above. He just wants to make me to feel good.

Huh...well in in that case, what the hell? I mean this is why I came here isn't it? Wasn't I looking for some sort of physical connection with someone? Wasn't I looking to, remedy to help experience the blissful perspective of deep understanding? Hell I could use a little bliss and lord knows I don't understand any part of whats going on here. Why not see what this boy can do?

Sorry, I'm not going to get very graphic here. But I will say that I refused to let him go down on me. No way Jose. But I let him put his hand in my pants and give it a whirl.

It eventually happens and for the record...bliss was not reached nor remedied. But I still exaggerate a bit vocally for his benefit. Whatever. Let him have his experience. Then the inevitable happens. He wants to get off too.

Well when it comes to orgasms, I'm a total dude. I've had mine and I'm red-to-go.  But dammit, now I feel bad and obligated. Not enough to be much help, but enough to allow him to finish with me still present.

I make him do it. He's laying flat on his back and I'm holding the base a little and giving him kisses here and there but the dude is drunk and its taking forever! I just want to go freaking home! I have to work in the morning and I have so much shit to do...

"Ok. You're making me feel like a perv," he says out of no where.

I snap out of my thought wandering with enough self awareness to realize I had stopped helping completely.

"I'm not going to sit here while you lay there waiting to go home and wack off like a freak. Just forget it," he tells me.


I grin a bit in the dark. Creeper made another funny.


The guy is right right. I mean the dude isn't asking for much. He is doing it himself and he hasn't pushed me much tonight. As badly as I want to go home and barely give a shit about this whole situation anymore, I decide the least I could do is see this out and be a good sport.

I begin to kiss him again and ask him what he wants.

"I want you to talk dirty to me," he replies.

Seriously?! This is starting to feel like a fucking job. Ok, fine fine fine!

He starts to ask where he should cum and I start making shit up that I would never let this weirdo do to me. I start off passive and simple but as the minutes tick by I progressively get dirtier and dirtier. I honestly just want this dude to get off already so that I can hurry up and clock the fuck out and go home...

I tell him, "I would want to start sucking you right before you're ready to blow...Wait. Would you want me to swallow you and suck you down or pull away so that you can cum on my face?"

I know. I'm shocking myself. But I really really want to go home, eat a P-n-J and go to sleep.

"You wouldn't be able to swallow it all. I cum a lot," he whispers back to me.

Okay. Forget it then.

"Then I'll suck on you until you start to cum and just swallow as much as I can before I pull away so that you can shoot it on my face..."

...and then point your penis at the wall and spray it down like I'm using a hose before I call the Guinness book of World Records so that I can tell them that you just broke the worlds record for being a dumbass...

Well I didn't add that last part, but luckily the first half did the trick. I made the guy cum on his own stomach.

I try not to jump up and run from the room screaming, "Later!" Instead I ask him if he has a towel. He reaches around and grabs a shirt to clean himself off with. For the record, swallowing would not have been a problem, freaking exaggerator.

He stands up and strips down in the dark and grabs a change of clothes. Meanwhile I slip my jacket on and zip up my boots. He lays back down, drunk and totally spent.

I tell him not to worry about walking me out. There was no way I was going to wait around for his ass to get dressed, take another bong hit and eventually stumble his way to my car.

I give him a courtesy kiss and  bolt out the door. No regrets on my part. Well, maybe just one. I should have left as soon as I finished my orgasm. I'm going to be hating it at work tomorrow...

Finally at home snug in my bed, I smile to myself and say, "How you like that blissful remedy shit Machine..."

...and off to sleep I went


WCC