If I Die, He Did It

I'm always very skeptical of dating new people.
I'm VERY skeptical of online dating.
I'm skeptical of making out with random men I don't know.
I'm skeptical of going back to their houses for dinner or hanging out.
I'm skeptical of getting into their cars with them.
And
I'm skeptical of being anywhere alone with one for more than five minutes.

That doesn't mean I don't love them to pieces, but I always take my men with a grain of salt.
I'm also usually packing something, because hey, you can't ever be too safe.

Now I sound like the crazy girl, and I get it. You don't know what's happened in my life to get me to this point. So, brief story time, incase you missed this before, or I didn't post it.

Halloween 2010, instead of going out with the homies and drinking in Dupont like this past year, I scheduled a second date with straight sex-on-a-stick Mr. Quirky.

He was going to dress up, and I was going to dress up, and we were going to watch a movie and walk around Annapolis, and it was gonna be awesome.

And it was.

It was a lovely date. He was a perfect gentleman, and I had a great time.

As I drove back to DC, lighter than a feather, on the wings of happiness, I turned up the radio and sang my little heart out to Bryan Adams, "All for Love," because this girl is a 90s child and loves those Disney created songs and hell if I don't like 3 Musketeers starring Oliver Platt and Charlie Sheen before he was crazy (mmmm - delish).

It was around Midnight:30 when I pulled up to my apartment building. I noticed some people loitering in the parking lot, but it didn't dawn on me that they weren't supposed to be there until I got out of my car and started walking towards the entrance.

They started walking towards me.

You know that lecherous stare that usually accompanies a man who has had one too many drinks or the ones that burly bartender at Front Page gives out on the weekends. Man he has some lecherous-ass-stares.

My immediate reaction was run inside, but I was in the back part of the lot and the door was too far, so I ran back to my car, their feet beating behind me the entire way.

I might not be a fast runner, but I did master the 400m in middle school (haha) so I can stride my fucking ass off.

I opened the door, slammed the keys into the ignition and made for a quick getaway, but I never noticed that one of the feet stopped chasing.

While one guy jumped in front of my car, the other had jumped into his and began circling around to mine. I didn't know what to do.

I panicked and hit the gas.

The guy on foot jumped out of the way, but the guy in the car circled in front of me down an aisle.

Slamming my car into reverse, I hit my friend's car trying to get away (this is slightly funny because we had gone to a halloween party the night before, and he pointed out he parked so far away because he didn't want people to hit his car - haha).

At this point in time the second guy had hopped into another car, while I flew down one aisle to exit the lot, with the other car hot on my trail, car two (without their lights on), swerved in front of me and came within inches of my front bumper. The other car was boxing me in. I was between sketchy car one and sketchy car two both inches away from both bumpers.

That's when the guy in the car to my front began to open his door.

Alone, panicked, and frightened to tears, I did the only thing I could think of and laid on my car horn for what seemed an eternity. The guy closed his door,  revved his engine, tapped my bumper and backed away. Car two was still inches from my back bumper but I drove as fast as my car could carry me down the back way of the parking lot until I was sure they were gone, which is when I called (in this order) - the guy whose car I hit, my parents, and the police.

After that one of my Uncles mailed me something to keep me safe, and it's rarely not on me. The only time I've been out without it. I had some guy grab my arm under the silver spring metro. He started to pull me into the shadows, and I screamed. I screamed with all I had - with all the breath in my lungs - with all the breath I could muster, while beating the guys' arm as hard as I could.

Needless to say.  I know that there are creepy creepers out there, so I am skeptical.

Plus the craigslist killer.

Plus when you meet people out in the real world, unlike small-town, USA, you don't know their background, their parents, their entire life story, so you don't know they could be psycho.

Plus I've dated my fair share of war vets, and they can wake up pretty fucking violently.

This all goes into saying, I take everything with a bit of skepticism. I'm skeptical of trusting whether the man I'm with wants to love me or lock me up in a basement and prod me with cigarettes.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

People should know who you're dating. I'm not saying you need to tell them everything about the person you're about to go out on a date with, but they need to know at least their name and number or address or where you're going.

Because what happens if one night that guy from Plenty of Fish turns out to be a psycho ax murderer and not the dreamy steam boat you thought he was. What if the girl from the coffee shop turns out to be the mistress of some bizarre sex slave trade. You don't know! It could happen! And there you'll be with either an ax sprouting out of your neck, or chained to a pole in a zebra speedo with 20 other similarly clad men.

When I first started dating guys outside of college (aka outside of my 'small-town'), I started sending bizarre texts like, "If I die, SexyFace did it," or "If I'm found facedown in a stream, check out Loverboy333 on OkCupid."

And I know what you're thinking, "God, LoRo, those are some morbid ass texts."

But they serve a purpose.

One they're bizarre enough that my friends remember them. They're slightly morbid so my friend will probably text back with where are you going, then I share that. So people know who I'm with and what I'm doing.

I don't want something to happen to me and have my friends and family not have leads into who tortured me with hot iron pokers and left me for dead in an alleyway. 

Since I don't have a roommate anymore, I could probably be gone for a few days before anyone noticed - to be honest.

No one calls me on a regular basis aside from my Skype Husband, aka, MrStateDepartment, and to be real he only calls me when I'm on Skype. If I'm not on Skype he can't call me.  He will send me emails if he hasn't heard from me in a while, but I'm the only person that sees my email inbox though, so we're back at me dead and no one knowing.

So if you haven't been scared off by this post, I'm hoping you've taken away the point which is - when dating people you barely  know *cough* almost everyone *cough,* you need to take some sort of precautions so that people will know you're safe, post-date.

 Even if it's a phone call to a friend afterwards giving a rundown, because if your friend expects that call, when they havent heard from you, they're spidey-senses will go tingling.

All in all, remember dating is tough, but rising from the dead is usually only reserved for zombie movies.

And since not all Ax Murderers have good intentions...

... Date Responsibly!

Where are you taking me!!!!

Or the Blog where I tell a sad yet funny story about one of my bad decisions, in order for everyone else to learn from my mistakes...

---

It all started with a Kamikaze.

Two years ago, there was a huge bar crawl going down, and my slightly older more bar experienced friends and I, were taking the newly-turned-21, N, out to the bar crawl bars, without being actually part of the crawl. A sub crawl, crawl, if you will.

The first Irish pub was a bust, aside from the ober cheap Long Islands, so we tippied over our saucey selves to the Mardi Gras Bar, paid our cover and sidled to the rail, where we ordered the first round of Kamikazes.

Between the Long Islands and the Kamikazes, which were apparently free courtesy of SexyFace behind the bar, we thoroughly enjoyed our night, which may or may not have included my friend A, yelling at the later to be known as Dicky MacDickerson about how he was dumb and out of our league, all the while a very drunken N kept telling me how cute he was, as I tried to pick up his other friend (I like flirting, shoot me).

So as A and L danced the night away, drunken N, Blair and myself were pounding out drinks courtesy of SexyFace. I can't to this day tell you how many Kamikazes I had, but according to the general populace of the bar, it was more than I should have, because somehow in my drunken staggering confidence, I somehow managed to convince SexyFace that he needed my phone number.

We texted through the night.

The next night Blair, J and I hit the town again, particularly SexyFace's bar, which included more Kamikazes, receiving flowers from strange men, dancing through the night, and getting saucier than I had ever been, and have since been in my life. Somehow I managed to waddle my way to the bar and ask for water, after water, after water, after water, and as I floated my way to the bathroom SexyFace grabbed my arm and led me through the kitchen, into an alley, up a back stairwell, through a secured door, into a conference room where we spent the better part of 30-minutes, before I almost peed on him.

After I used the special employees bathroom in the secret offices above the bar, I went back downstairs to realize... the bar. was. closed. Blair and J were missing. And I was, um. stuck.

According to stories from this evening, Blair and J called to me from the street repeatedly, "LoRo, come on, let's go home!!" and I responded, "No no no, I'm fiiiiiine. I'm FIIIINE Sexyface is bringing me home," while they tried to bribe the bouncer to let them back inside to grab me.

Needless to say, the bouncer did not let them back inside, because the only people inside were, "employees."

---

SexyFace did indeed take me home, but this was prior to my knowledge of Rock Creek Park being actually IN DC (for the longest time I swear I thought it was in Arlington - shoot me!), and as the city lights faded away, and his SUV slipped through the trees, I began to panic. My phone was dead. I couldn't text anyone my location, no one knows where I am, or whom I'm with, and I began to realize, I have no. idea. where. I. am.

I started to freak internally, which is common, but then I started to freak externally, which is not.

"Where are we?"
"DC"
"No but really, where are we?"
"In the city."
"There are no woods in the fucking city, where the fuck are you taking me."
"Home"
"From Dupont to AU, there are no fucking forests!!!! WHERE ARE WE!?"
"Whoooa, have some water."
"I don't want no fricking water, where the shit.... are you gonna kill me? Are you going to murder me right now? I mean, I know I shouldn't get into strange men's cars, but I know you, but do I know you that well? How are you going to do it? Please don't strangle me, just shoot me. GOD, oh GOD! I don't even have kids! I can't even write my family a letter to tell them how much I love them because I don't think I can write right now, the road's too bumpy! Oh GOD Do you have paper?!!"
"Shit! LoRo, calm the fuck down."
"I'm gonna jump out."

Doors lock.

"I'm going to scream!"
"Already doing it"

As my life flashed before my eyes, I began to breathe. He stopped the car and turned to look at me.

"I'm not going to kill you ok? I wouldn't want to deal with your screams any more than I have to right now. Your adorable, but you need to calm. the. fuck. down."

"Ok"

I took some deep breaths from a paper sack, and no, I don't know why he had a paper sack in his car, but it kind of smelled like weed, so I'll leave it to your imagination.

Needless to say I eventually I made it home, courtesy of SexyFace and one very large bottle of the Fiji Water, also courtesy of SexyFace.

----

This story has a very, very, very valuable lessons that I learned as a child, and thoroughly understood then, but understand less when I'm discombobulated. And while, I know Sexyface, and I know that he's not going put me in a horrible situation, at the time, my knowledge of him was very limited, and since, there are so many fresh drinkers out there, who are jumping into the city and getting themselves in really questionable situations. I'm going to share with you my 3 Rules to live by as a DC Nightlife Patron.

1. Always go out with people you trust to bring you home at the end of the night.
I cannot intimate how important this rule is. I've heard so many horror stories from my friends about roofies and drunken abandonment by so called "friends" that now I don't go out with people unless I know that they are concerned about my life.

2. Have an exit strategy with your friends.
Have this conversation before you go out. This is called my No friend left behind strategy. I can't tell you how many times I've been the girl going, "NOOOOO it's totally o.k., go homeeeee! I'll follow you in 20 mins," and then had my peeps pull me out of a bar. Or have been the girl saying, "no no drunk friend, you have had one too many, your judgement is massively impaired, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME." You might be the bitchy friend for the night, but how proud will you feel in the morning when you see that sketchy creeper's face on the television with sexual predator in bold-print underneath his picture.

3. Don't get yourself into sticky situations.
Granted yes, I am still alive, but what would have happened had SexyFace been SexyAxeMurderer?
There are a few things that you should always have on you prior to going out, license, credit card/debit card, BACK UP credit/debit card, at least 20 bucks in cash, your medical insurance card, and an emergency phone number. (ALWAYS - license for identification, money, a back up in case your money disappears, medical card incase the worst happens, and an emergency phone number in case your phone dies and you need to find a pay phone to call someone). Always carry a phone charger with you before you go out, and ALWAYS make sure your phone is charged prior to go time. Don't get into the cars of people you've just met, even if they do seem soooo nice or look sooo cute. And If someone from a bar mentions an after party, make sure you know who they are, where you're going, and what the plan is for leaving.

So many girls and guys really don't have their safety in mind when they go out to party all night. They don't imagine that there are people out there who don't have their best interests at heart, or they've been so sheltered that they've never been in situations where their safety is jeopardized.

This might sound soap boxy, but it's your responsibility to take the reins of your well-being into your own hands. Don't take your safety lightly. It's imperative for younger adults to recognize that once you start going out to bars and meeting people outside your friend group, that sometimes those people you meet are not good people. This isn't Kansas anymore, it's easier for people to disappear. It's easier for people to acquire drugs in order to drug you with. And when your and your friend's judgement is impaired through alcohol, it's a whole lot easier for you to put yourself into situations where bad things can happen.

So while I don't want to scare anyone from going out and partaking in the enjoyments of the DC nightlife (seriously not my intentions DC is FUN at night). I want people to understand that you need to take precautions for your safety. So have fun, but be safe.