The Bridge Troll

Sometime in the early fall of 2016, I had my heart broken. We can get into how that went down a different day, but as a result of my ego shattering, I turned to online dating. It wasn't an unusual move to make, as I've met plenty of perfectly regular men on the internet. I tend to take my time before meeting them, making sure wherever we go is public and well lit, and I always let somebody know where and when I'm going. I can't pretend that all of those dates go well, because some of them don't. Actually, since we're all friends now, most of them don't.

So maybe it was how utterly sad I had been feeling, but when I started to message back and forth with a reasonably attractive, conversational Jake, I might have been a bit too excited to meet him. He seemed a little too agreeable, which might have been a warning (which I didn't take). He lived about an hour away, which might have been enough to deter me (but it wasn't). He even used phrases like "nice guy" and "women always date douchebags," which are always red flags (but I ignored them). Jake was a busy man, but he seemed to want to make time for me, and I certainly appreciated it. We had similar taste in music, movies, and art in general. We had only been texting back and forth for about a day, when I received a phone call. The words flowed freely, topics changed in an instant, and I found myself having a fun, interesting, meandering chat with someone I was growing more interested in meeting. We set the date before getting off the phone, and agreed to see each other two days later.

He had offered to drive all the way to my town, which was nice. During our talk, I described the bar I frequent. It's just a small town pool hall, smoky and dark, with a staff and regulars who all know my name, and most of them even know what I drink. From here on, we'll just call it Cheers. I'd been frequenting Cheers for quite some time, and hardly ever invited anyone to join me, unless they were also a regular. It's my favorite bar, so I would go there to unwind, do some people watching, and ultimately chill out. It's my little secret, away from all the folks I grew up with, and away from people I don't need to run into. Even though I am friendly, I am still quite introverted, and Cheers provides an oasis of bourbon and comfort. A safe space for me and myself only, if you will. Despite all of this, and the alarms going off in my head, when Jake said "Hey, how about we go to that Cheers place you like so much?" my answer was "Sure!" which I heard myself say, but I really didn't mean it. I had no idea how to take it back. I should have taken it back.
Always trust your gut, kids.

I arrived at Cheers at 8:30, but my companion was nowhere to be found. In fact, I hadn't heard from him all day. My friend was tending bar, so I decided to get a drink and let her know what was going on. We were both excited for him to show, but forty minutes later, we were sure this guy was standing me up. I began to relax, deciding to enjoy my evening instead of wasting any time lamenting a first date. My friend and I went over the details for a bit first, of course. She asked all the questions a girl asks, and I left nothing out. There wasn't much to leave out, anyway. Jake was 5'10, in good shape, with great hair, and a sense of humor. He was 27, he liked the things I liked, and unfortunately he decided to stand-- "Lea?"

I turned to my right, and didn't recognize the man greeting me. I answered cautiously with "Yes?"

"I'm Jake."
"No, you're not."
"It's so nice to meet you! Sorry I'm late. Wow, you look amazing."

I looked back at my friend, who was stunned. Floored. Completely in shock. I felt the same way, but wasn't sure how to work it out. I was confused, to say the least. See, I'm not particularly shallow, but I do find lying incredibly unattractive. The likelihood of this disheveled hobbit's personality saving him was slim. He had lied. And he was an hour late, with no notice. And I did look amazing. Basically, within five seconds, my brain went "fuck this," but the catfish was brazen, if not oblivious. He didn't even bat an eye at any of my cold behavior. While he could tell I was disappointed, he seemed not to know why. I asked if the pictures he sent were even his.

"Oh...yeah, about that...those are, uh..pretty old." So I asked how old they were.
"From when I was about 27."
"You said you were 27..How old are you?"
"Did I? Weird. Sorry. I'm 36."

Weird? No, let's get this straight. This was not weird. This was way beyond weird. Dude said he was 27 years old, 5'10, that he was going to meet me at 8:30, and as far as I could tell, all of that was a lie. That's a whole lot of incorrect numbers. Oh, and remember that great hair I mentioned? Even that wasn't real. He was balding excessively. Again, not something that would have bothered me if I hadn't been lied to. What I still fail to understand is why, oh, why would anyone lie about such obvious attributes? I'm 5'3! Did he really think I wouldn't notice we were the same height? Did he really think anyone was dumb enough to believe he was in his late twenties? He looked to be much older than 36, by the way. Also, just to make sure we're all on the same page, "twenty seven" and "thirty six" don't sound even remotely similar, and he answered me as if I had simply misheard him. I have questions to this day. This was not the first time I'd been misled by an online profile, nor would it be the last, but it was definitely the most extreme. I'm still pretty sure those pictures were of someone else entirely, but I didn't press the issue.

I struggled through some conversation a while, but was very clearly no longer interested. I made little eye contact, and hardly engaged at all. I was over it. When he asked if we should get another round, I declined. We paid our tabs, and he walked me out. We said goodbye somewhat near my car, and it was rough. He went in for a hug, so I had to turn my body to give one of those one armed side hugs. You know, one that says "you might as well be a distant relative I was forced to interact with this Thanksgiving." I was sure I had sufficiently displayed my lack of attraction, but then he went to kiss me, despite every single signal I could have sent otherwise, forcing me to violently recoil. Someone across the parking lot might have thought I was cowering. He apologized, I forgave him. It was awkward. He went to get in his car, and once he drove away, I went right back into the bar to laugh about  how poorly everything went. I figured that was the end of it, but, as happens so often, I was wrong.

Over the next few days, I received a series of lengthy texts and emails telling me how wonderful I am, and how much chemistry was felt. I'm not bragging, either. Truthfully, I'm not that interesting, so this says more about him than it does me. My mind was blown. In hindsight, I should have answered, if only to say "I appreciate that, but I am not interested." Eventually, there was silence, and I believed he had taken the hint. That is, until the next Monday.

Monday night football at Cheers was a routine for me. My day at the office had been hell, so I was talking with one of my girlfriends about it, and starting to relax. She and I began discussing men, and how horrible dating is. She made a joke about how if she ever got divorced, she would just marry me. It was then that we heard a voice at the end of the bar, loudly spouting "You can't. I called dibs."

Yes, this guy who lived over an hour away had come back to my favorite bar, when he knew I'd be there. Stupidly, I had mentioned my Monday night ritual. I was not only put off, but pissed off. Clearly, he had come to the conclusion that he just wasn't being creepy enough, and if he stalked me instead, I might fall in love. Maybe. That's all I can come up with, really. And it made me furious! I was going to give him a piece of my mind, and let him know just how wildly inappropriate his actions were. He needed to know that this was NOT okay. Of course, since I'm not exactly well equipped for confrontation, and my self esteem is all but crumbling, what I chose to immediately say was a small and shaky "Heyyyyy....pal." This displeased him. He came to sit next to me, and after giving me an arm punch with a "Hah. Hey, buddy." he proceeded to berate me for nearly twenty minutes.

According to this indignant jerk, I led him on, and I am heartless. I am unfeeling, cold, and immature. He was so, so interested in me, and I would regret passing him up, because he is a really nice guy. I'm never going to find anyone since all I care about is looks, and I really owe him and mankind an apology for my behavior. Yes, those are the words he used.

Eventually, I snapped. Through anger alone, I was able to defend myself against such outrageous claims. Quietly, but intensely, I let him have it."Fine. I do not like you. In fact, I met someone else. I am already seeing someone." Sure, it was a lie, but he lies, so...you know..I didn't care. I continued, letting him know that I was not interested, I was pissed off that he came to my stomping grounds, and the fact that he thought any of this was appropriate disgusted me. "You're acting as if we had a relationship, or a friendship that needs respecting! I don't even know you!" I told him I would appreciate it if he left. As I talked, he shrank. He looked choked up, but was still angry.

"Oh, what? You think you can kick me out of here? You don't have the authority to kick me out of a bar you don't own."
"Actually, I do.." I replied. My friend behind the bar chimed in, "She absolutely does."

In that moment, I had to decide how to proceed. Even though our exchange of words was quiet, everyone could tell I was livid, and I was growing more embarrassed by the second. Instead of kicking him out, I decided to remove myself. In my mind, it was worse than making him leave. Here I am, I thought, minding my own business, in my element, and even though you disrupted me to be wildly rude, I will be the one to leave. I'm being the bigger person here, in front of everyone. Feel bad about it. Get stuck here, embarrassing yourself in front of my friends. He was ruining the football game, and my day had already been trying, so I went home.

Jake didn't leave the bar at all. Instead, he stayed until closing time, and with last call being just before 3am, that means he was there for a good, long while. He sent me a storm of texts, ranging from "I hate you, you fucking whore" all the way to "I'm so sorry. Please give me a chance. I want you to like me." I answered none of them, even when they continued into the next day. Turns out, he spent all those hours crying to anyone who would listen about how I broke his heart. Since those folks knew me, they were just as confused as Jake was loud. I've since heard that at several points, he was literally sobbing at the end of the bar. All this over a stranger? I cannot imagine developing that level of attachment that quickly. For the next few weeks, I had to answer a million questions about a man who, all told, I only knew for a few hours. I was mortified at first, but got over it quickly. The people who were there that night still bring it up occasionally, and we all share a laugh about the time I was catfished, then publicly stalked and humiliated by a middle aged bridge troll who doesn't pick up on social cues.

Anyway, I never had a first date at Cheers again.

xoxo