I had an unsettling experience the other day.
A week ago, I was out and about running errands when I got to talking with a guy. We had a decent conversation, he was kind of cute and somewhat witty, so when he asked if I wanted to grab drinks with him later that evening, I thought, “Why not?”
We met at a neighborhood bar that I suggested—I’ve been there many times before, and it felt safe. The night started off fine: we got a few drinks and had a fun conversation.
The first time he touched my shoulder, I flinched a little, but shrugged it off. Then he touched my arm, and I moved away. Finally, when he touched a scar on my arm and asked how I got it, then patted me on the shoulder when I said I fell from ice-skating, I told him, “Can you please stop touching me?”
He stopped touching me for a while, so I thought everything was fine—until he touched my arm again. I shrank away visibly and reminded him not to touch me. Then it happened again.
Then things started getting weird.
It was getting late and the touching creeped me out, so I said I should head home. Then, he told me that I was beautiful, that he would like to spend more time with me, and asked if he could go with me.
“Go with me… to my home?”
I said no, he can’t. He asked why. I told him his touching made me uncomfortable.
His response was crazy surprising. He said, “You girls need to lighten up! It was just some light touching. How is a guy supposed to know when it’s appropriate to start touching a girl?”
Like, what the fuck? I told him that the first few times he did it, I gave him the benefit of the doubt; when he persisted after I told him to stop, it was unambiguously inappropriate. “Did you not notice that I moved away quite obviously?”, I asked.
Then he said the weirdest shit ever. He went, “Yes, I noticed. But the guy who touched you is the same guy who asked you out—obviously you liked him, because you said yes. Being physically friendly is natural to me, it’s how I am. You should’ve been more polite and respected that—you shouldn’t have moved away, that’s rude.”
What the fuck?!
I told him that I agreed to grab a friendly drink, not a date drink. There were no expectations for anything to happen post-drinks. I mean seriously, it wasn’t a date! He just asked if I was free that night and if I wanted to get a beer!
I also said that if you’re unsure if the girl is receptive of your touching, just don’t do it! Too many women have been inappropriately touched because too many men don’t understand boundaries. To which he replied, “I’m sorry that women go through that, but why should I be punished for what other men have done?” But he’s one of those men!!!! And he doesn’t get it, because to him, all he did was touch my arm and shoulder.
Then the bar staff came and got us the bill. Weirdo guy asked if we could split. I agreed.
Since I was no longer trying to be tactful, I asked him if he would’ve offered to pay for my half if I had agreed to go home with him. He tried to evade the question by going off tangent, but I asked him again: “Would you have paid if I had agreed to go home with you?”
He said yes, he would’ve.
I asked if he would consider the night a waste of time since we were going to leave separately.
He said yes, he would.
“Wait, so you didn’t enjoy the conversation? Just because I won’t go home with you, this whole night was a waste?”
He said he was looking for something specific, so if he doesn’t get it, then yes, the night was a waste.
Then he went, “Come on! Live a little! Why do you have to be so uptight? Let go a little!”
Now suddenly, I was the uptight one because I can’t lighten up and live a little—which, to him, means accepting his creepy behaviour and sleeping with him.
Wait—that’s not even the worst of it.
He had gotten a Grab car to the bar, whereas I had driven. So I politely told him I would wait with him until he gets a Grab to go home. Don’t ask me why I was still trying to be nice, I have no idea.
He typed on his phone, I briefly saw something like a map on his screen, so I thought: okay, good, he’s heading home.
Fifteen minutes later, his Grab car still hadn’t arrived. I asked him if he had ordered one yet. He said, in the most shockingly matter-of-fact way, “No, I didn’t. I’m going home with you.”
I stared at him in disbelief, then stood up, picked up my bag, and walked towards my car—all without saying another word to him. I drove home that night feeling really unsettled. He texted the next morning to apologize, but I ignored it.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I unwittingly went on a date with a very entitled guy who has very little respect for women.