There are definitely situations where you just have to apply the “hit and quit” motto. Something that I should’ve kept letting be.
I was swiping, mostly left, on Tinder when I bumped into an old lover of mine. We met in Tecate, BC in a music/bike event about three years ago. I thought he was cute as fuck, even with his both upper front teeth chipped. We started chatting and made plans to go see Afroman play at The Holding Company (cool joint, nice hippies). I got there, and he was accompanied with two friends on the front patio.
I finished my cigarette before going in, passed security and went up to him and gave him a big hug. The last time we saw each other was about three years ago. He looked exactly the same, definitely older, but the same. We had a couple of beers together at the venue, danced and sang away along with Afroman. Joints were being passed out among the crowd, everyone was feeling it and having a great time.
Right after the show, that’s when everything started going down hill; believe me, it became a pretty steep one really darn quick. We started walking towards my car, when he decided to ride his skateboard and do some sharp tuns along the sidewalk. He almost ended up bursting a window from a shop, made a total fool of himself…I was so embarrassed because there were a lot of people out there…I just kept walking.
We got to his place, had some more beers, talked, smoked wax and fucked. I was having a good time, finally, until after making out, his stomach decided to return everything that he put in…EVERY-FUCKING-THING. I passed out, just let him and his situation alone.
Next morning I woke up early, as usual. Sneaked out of the bed, grabbed my clothes and went to the restroom and changed clothes. Went back to get my vans and, for my surprise, one was way heavier than the other…Yup, just exactly what you’re imagining…it was covered and filled with puke. I don’t know what the fuck he ate the night before, but it looked like a big freaking rotten cake inside. I didn’t know whether to throw them away , clean them or kill him. Ended up going with the second choice and almost puked myself during the process.
Went back to the restroom and rinsed them, shit wouldn’t stop coming out from there. It was so gross! Like, for real, who pukes into a shoe? At this point I don’t even know if he did it on purpose, because he is kind of a weirdo..
After “dealing” with that mess, I grabbed all of my belongings and poked his arm very lightly to say goodbye; didn’t actually want to say goodbye, just thought that way I could say I tried.
As soon as I walked out the door, I ran the fuck out of there! OMG! Dude! Never again!
I immediately contacted my main dick, drove as fast as I could to my currently number one guy. On my way there, I was just thinking how much I regretted meeting up with him. Like, why did I do it, you know? I just shouldn’t have even gotten in contact with him on the first place. Should’ve just let it be.
Lesson learned though, the stinky, disgusting way. If things don’t go right, if for whatever reason you stopped talking to an ex-lover, LEAVE IT THAT WAY! It wasn’t meant to be for you to keep fucking him/her, don’t waste your time. Just avoid it, okay? (Unless you’re really horny) Not even worth it!
Ps. FYI, My vans survived.