(..True story..)




He’s trying to figure me out. These are unspoken motives, they always are. I am trying to remain focused here. I realize he is talking about some evolutionary psychology shit but I don’t feel like answering his questions. I want to say, “Read about it yourself asshole.” Instead, I continue to sip my tea. The oven timer goes off and he crosses the room to the kitchen and pulls out his pizza. I can’t remember what he was saying. I know it was something about his deep rooted feelings and how he believed we could grow to be something great.


I wanted to say, “Grow?  What you meant to say is ‘Bethany, I know you aren’t interested in me but maybe I could convince you.’ This will just simply never happen.” 


No, I didn’t say that either, instead I got up and poured myself some more tea and went back to sitting against the wall. He’s talking again. This time I can’t even tell you anything remotely close to what he might have been saying. All I hear is his chewing. His ridiculous chewing. He’s not even smacking his lips. It was the crunch of that half burnt pizza crust in his teeth. The words in between. He was standing on the other side of the room and I could distinctively hear him chewing.


I wanted to choke him. I wanted to pry open his mouth and forcefully take his food and banish him from ever eating again. Something made me believe he didn’t deserve food. I had no escape. All I could do was hope his appetite was small. I was biting my nails. I was trying not to lose my mind. I become more dismissive with my responses. 


Talk. Maybe if you talk you won’t hear this sound over your voice. Talk dammit.


No. I had nothing to say. A brain full of useless fucking information but all I can think about is this chewing. The most tragic noise my ears have ever heard. Had I have even excused myself to the bathroom I would have still been a victim, this apartment is too small. By the grace of my imaginary God, he stops eating. At this point, sweat is bubbling at the top of my forehead. Sweat from someone who never sweats. I still want to choke him.


Play it cool. It’s over. Breathe.


I manage to survive more useless conversation that I cannot recall. Then finally, it was time for bed. As I change into pajamas I make a mental note to never invite a guest to spend the night unless I know how they chew. We crawl into bed as some movie plays across the TV screen. Another thing I am not interested in. I roll over to my stomach with my lower back exposed. He’s dying to touch me. I can feel that overwhelming mammal instinct most clumsy men put off. Pet me, do it. That way I won’t have to pay anyone else to.


His hand runs across my skin..This is comfortable and luckily no words or food is involved.  Just like they always do, his hand inches closer to my ass. That’s okay. It just so happens I like to have my ass rubbed. I am starting to doze off. Heavy sleep, please come visit me. That’s when his hand went lower down my ass than what it should have. Again, this comes highly expected, but that doesn’t mean I let it willingly happen. I reach back, grab his hand and place it more towards my upper back. I fall asleep.


That’s when it happened. I woke up. The bed is slightly shaking. I can still hear the TV in the background. His hand is on my ass, this time on bare skin. His hand is still. What the hell? Why is my bed shaking?


Oh No. Oh god. Oh no he isn’t doing.. Oh my god he is. I know that sound. He is jacking his dick. Oh what the fuck? What the fuck do I do now? Do I laugh? Do I roll over? Oh god I think he’s about to climax. My bed is shaking! Oh my fucking god he is jacking his dick in my bed while touching my ass… oh god..


Act Bethany! Act! Do something. Anything!I jump up.


I’m frantic, and out of the corner of my eye I see him tuck his junk back in. I turn to face him. I pace my floor. Well hell yeah I’m a little fucking thrown off and confused right now. There is a creep in my bed who was masturbating while I was asleep.


“I cannot fuck you!” I scream


He’s embarrassed.But I don’t stop there. No. I don’t stop there.


“And you cannot fuck me! Not mentally. Not alone, and not in my damn bed!” I am still pacing. This is just awkward.

“Why not?” He unbelievably looks surprised.


“I cannot fuck you.. because.. because I hate the way you fucking chew!” I say this looking right at him. I watch the confusion come across his face but I leave no time for any more questions. “You have to leave now. “ I start throwing his shoes at him. 


He leaves.


What the fuck just happened? I slide down the closed door and sit on the floor. I put my head on my knees. It occurs to me. I thought of a thousand nicer “Go fuck yourself’s” all night. I never thought it would happen literally. Instead, the only point I make clear this night is, “I cannot fuck you because I hate the way you fucking chew.”