So about three weeks ago I was at this little casual get together. Inexplicably, I was the only woman there, like; we’re talking total sausage fest: no other women as girlfriends, friends, or fellow engineering students. Natta. Zero. Zilch.

Anyways, because for whatever reason I was the only breast-bearing person in that totally cool fraternity, the men around ambushed me like the twelve-year-old-author-who-wrote-this-ill-conceived-fanfiction-thinks-adults-socialize beta boys they are. And they were all saying really nice things to me, like “oh, you look beautiful tonight,” and “nice dress!” Ugh. How nice can these people get? Their compliments were in danger of making me fat they were so sugary sweet. And as we all know, women feed on attention and I couldn’t afford the calories these guys were forcing me to consume.

So there was this guy eyeballing me all night. And after this horrendous cigar-induced coughing fit that lead to some violent retching, homeboy approached me; eyes still red from the vomiting. I introduce myself, he tells me his name is Chad Thundercock (like, he actually gave me that name with a bile-stained smile). A little put-off by his gross mouth (I was fairly certain that whatever that red thing stuck in his teeth wasn’t actually there before the throwing up incident) he completely blew me away with this:

“I like the way your ass looks in that dress.”

I was floored, let me tell you. Here I am standing face to face with a man whose social etiquette is on par with a newly licensed teenager hollering out his window.

Be still my heart.

He stood so close I couldn’t escape the pungent smell of regurgitated beer and cigar smoke on his breath, so I gently pushed him back. Wrong. Move. Homeboy got this sort of maniac light in his eyes the second I touched him. Uh oh.

Time to disengage. I told him I was heading out to some pizza place and bid him goodnight. Once out of the house I started home. I thought I was home free. Noooooope. He chased me down.

At this point I was pretty uncomfortable and I was getting a vague impression from this guy. And not the celebrity impression type, but the “it puts the lotion on its skin” kind of impression.

So I told him he was creepy and he said something about how he couldn’t be creepy because he had a high SMV. I told him I didn’t care what kind of car he drove and that it was still creepy.

Anyways, he followed me home and stayed outside of my apartment complex for three hours eating pizza.