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It's All Good

When Red Flags Mean Nothing to a Champion Bull

By Enoki WritesPublished 6 years ago 8 min read
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Sometimes, you can only see three feet in front of you.

#MyWorstDate

He is six years younger than me, and I'm not 30 yet. We met when I visited his store as a trainer, and I thought it was cute the way he ran out to my car, as I was leaving, to get my number. We flirt-texted for a few days and decided later that week to go to the beach. I made it clear I wasn't going to be driving my car, and that he would need to come pick me up. He agreed.

He gets to my house at 4 PM, almost two hours late. I found his beat-down car with no air conditioning in 110 degree weather endearing, and was relieved that his reckless and aggressive driving could at least bring a considerable breeze into the car. He tells me that working at T-Mobile is just temporary, and that he really runs his own business and has side gigs as a handyman. I smile and nod as I grip the bottoms of the seat for dear life. -I'm tired of going out with boys who have no ambition.-

When we get to his place, I find that it's a boarding house in a questionable neighborhood in downtown L.A., and that we would be switching cars to get to the beach. I had zero questions for some reason. As we walk to the car, he tells me that he just bought it used and that he was going to fix it up and maybe give it to his mom or sell it. - Oh, he cares about his mom AND he's an entrepreneur too, how nice. - As he's saying this, he starts walking to the passenger's side. I said, "What are you doing?" "Oh, I have a suspended license," he responds casually. "That's why I was hoping we would take your car, but it's all good." - Is it all good? Oh, what the heck, I'm here. I might as well. - Plus, he's feeding me the lunch plate he brought me from inside his house. There are beans and rice and homemade tamales and I guess that's romantic and considerate, right?

We get in the car and start driving. We stop by a liquor store to get some beer for the beach. He starts instructing me to go down this street and turn here, then tells me to pull over suddenly. "I just need to run inside and get some plates for this car." - Wait. What? - Before I could blink, he was gone, running across a busy intersection to an unmarked garage and disappearing behind a corner. I pull off the street and into a nearby parking lot, feeling like a horrible person for locking all my doors.

I waited for what felt like an hour, in a hot car with no plates, contemplating my own existence and how I ended up here, waiting for the return of my knife in shining armor. He comes back and screws on makeshift plates. "All good! Let's party!" He smiles brightly and tells me where to go, so I go.

We get to the beach. He pulls out a flat sheet from the backseat and we set it up on a romantic private shoreline with beer and talk for a while. He tells me about the time he almost killed a 30 year old man who got frisky with his 15 year old sister at a family gathering. He hopes I understand that he knows he could have handled it better because he did some real thinking while incarcerated. "I just want to give back to the community now, and help other kids do better." - Wow, he's really working towards so many great things and changing for the better. -

We get hungry and pack up, walking to the residing restaurant that lent us their parking lot. We're seated and start looking at the menu. It's looking like a minimum $100 for this meal. Parking is $50 without validation. He criticizes the menu for being overpriced. "I went to culinary school, I could make this for $40, easy."

We decide to leave because the waitstaff is giving us looks we don't appreciate, but probably deserve at this point. I notice that he's watching a family of people who are also leaving the restaurant. He looks at me, and after a second, I give him a resigned sigh. We're going to tailgate out. He takes the wheel for this one.

We stop a ways down the road to switch places. "Let's go to Santa Monica Pier!" - At least he's decisive. - We come upon the olympic looking rings that they leave out for people to swing on and he tries his hand. He goes up and back without breaking a sweat. When he's done, he comes to me, smiles that devilish smile, and gives me a kiss. - He's just so talented. - We spend some time walking around, holding hands, he's grilling the artist on the pier about his technique because he too! has dabbled in the arts of clay-making. He asks me for change to play an arcade game. We walk back to the car and make-out.

We're on the 10 West. 30 minutes from home, the car lurches to the side. I thought I had fallen asleep at the wheel, but he's sure he "hears" a shaking. We pull over. The car dies. "It's all good, I have AAA. No problem." - Prepared. Yay. - We wait for the tow truck and he's getting frisky. Just as he suggests we get naked, the truck pulls up.

He's talking to the middle aged AAA technician and they're poking around in the engine. I hear him giving the tech advice. "I worked in a garage for a long time man, it's probably this, that, and all the other." I hold the light while they tweak the car. It doesn't come back from the dead.

We're in the cab of the tow truck and he starts telling us about what's going to happen when we get to his house. "The landlady is really strict about us bringing girls over. We're gonna have to be very quiet and try not to wake anyone. I can't let them know what's going on." He casually asks the driver if he wouldn't mind pulling over to this liquor store so he can grab some beers? The driver and I exchange a glance and he feels so sorry for me right now. He explains that it is against policy. "Oh, cool, it's all good."

We pull into his neighborhood. About six houses down, he tells the driver to slow to a stop. "Would you mind getting off right here? I told you the landlady is weird about me bringing girls over." The driver is beside himself and kinda motions at my "beach ready" outfit of cutoff denim shorts and t-shirt. "You want her to stand outside? It's the middle of the night!" I look from the driver to him and he looks like the whippy end of a belt is waiting for him at the end of the street, so I say, "It's ok, I won't be far," and get out of the car.

I walk down toward the house and watch them do their best to maneuver a tow truck down a tiny driveway to drop the car off and make zero noise in the process. I noticed one of his roommates walking a girl out to a car on the street. - Wait. I thought girls weren't allowed. - He comes over and says, "Good news! My roommate said the old lady isn't home, so we should be ok!" - Oh, I'm so relieved. - I said, "I want to go home." "Are you sure? I'm so sorry about all this. It's all good, I'll drive you home, just wait here (on the street) while I go get my other car."

We start our drive. He pulls over on the sidewalk and I can't even bring myself to look at where we've stopped. "I'm just going to run inside and grab a beer." A full 60 seconds later, I hear a commotion. I look over and he's walking to the car with a 40 oz. in his hand. I follow him with my eyes and he's still yelling. I turn to look towards the shop and find a sling shot pointed right between my eyes.

They're screaming at each other about $5 and I hear the shop owner say, "I'll shoot her!" - What?! - He gives back the beer and we peel away. He drives with self hatred manning the wheel, and guilt and regret operating the clutch. It feels as though his little beater has sprouted wings. We make it to my place in one piece, just barely.

He begs me to stay over because he's too drunk to drive.

- Oh, all of a sudden you're too responsible to drive because of the beer you drank three hours ago. - Well, let's just cap the night off by making one final bad choice among all the possible wrong decisions I could possibly have made in just one date. My mom always told me to follow through and be consistent.

I wake up to a warmth on my left and a shiver runs down my spine. I get up silently and shower so I can be fully ready by the time I say something.

"Hey, I've got to leave in like 30 minutes."

"Oh, I was hoping we could hang out today."

"No, that's ok. I mean, I'll call you if anything."

"Oh ok, it's all good." - It definitely wasn't. -

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About the Creator

Enoki Writes

Sometimes, I’m right. Most of the time, I’m just happy to be here.

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