My Date Kidnapped Me Cause I Was Flirting With The Bartender.
You can always tell that some people were created when the universe was exhausted because some of the shit you will come across has no business being real.
On Red Flags and Being Colorblind.
Once upon a time, in a land not far away from romance — I embarked on a journey into the realm of dating.
This was one of the few times I’d been single so I thought to myself…
Hmm 🤔 what a splendid idea it would be, to skip the post-relationship self-introspection and jump straight back into it.
Boy…was I wrong? Hold my beer and let me tell you this shit.
I went on a date with this man — Gabriel*. He was from Mali and barely spoke English but the fact that he spoke fluent French was such a turn-on, never mind that I couldn’t speak or understand French.
I know. I know. My standards were beneath the garbage can, let’s not even go there.
We’d been texting for over a week and his use of English was basic but easy to understand.
I have no idea what I thought a real date was going to accomplish, what with the language barrier and all.
There was nothing interesting about Gabriel except that he spoke French but then again I thought he could just be a bad texter.
So….
The day arrived when we’d finally meet and dial down the anticipation. We went to the local bar that was equidistant to both our campuses.
He came to pick me up, said bonjour with expecting eyes, handed me a helmet, and straddled me onto his motorcycle. My God! What a thrill it was.
Sometimes They Use Motorbikes In Lieu Of White Vans.
Sometimes all you need for a successful kidnapping mission is a bruised ego, physical strength, and a motorbike.
Anyhow, we got to the local bar and had a few drinks and food accompanied by minimal conversation that sometimes involved a translating app. It wasn’t a terrible date nor was it amazing. Subpar at best.
As we were about to leave, I told *Gabriel that I was going to quickly say hi to the bartender (we were acquaintances).
I went to the bar…chatted shit with the bartender for what must have been two minutes and from the corner of my eye I could see Gabriel* heading towards me.
He barged into our conversation without invitation and motioned to me that we should leave.
I did not question his decision as I thought I must have been rude to leave him alone at the table for less than five minutes. Right? So we left.
Except — the moment we got downstairs, his energy took a 360 and he turned into the stranger that I actually didn’t know.
He shoved me against his bike…started yelling at me cause apparently I was ‘flirting’ with the bartender.
Context — Gabriel* was a conservative man with traditional values that perpetuated his beliefs of being entitled to a woman’s existence.
I denied his allegations of course but then again even if I was flirting with the bartender, so what?
He went on to demand that I pay him back the money he’d used for our date. I’m not even joking.
As fuck’s sake would have it, I hadn’t carried a wallet with me. Cause who needs money on hand when going out with a stranger you met on the internet? No less one who’s not fluent in the language you understand.
We argued for a bit, with me insisting that he take me to my hostel so that I could get him the money and him just cussing out in French. It was a sight to behold.
I lost the argument, he pinned me on his motorcycle and rode through traffic like he was being chased. (His demons were obviously onto him)
Of course, he wasn’t taking me back to my hostel. Of course. It dawned on me during that ride what exactly was about to happen.
To him, the dinner he paid for wasn’t actually just dinner. It came with a prize. A prize that seemed quite obvious to him.
He felt entitled and ‘after the fact’ he seemed pleased with himself. Proud and restored.
All of this was quite normal for him which gave me a sense that, it wasn’t the first time. I wasn’t the first girl this had happened to.
This was his thing.
This boy committed a crime because he was upset. The sheer horror of it all is perplexing.
On-Time Traveling.
I didn’t do anything about it. Who was going to believe that sordid tale anyway? I blamed myself and for a long time, it felt like I had imagined it all.
If I could go in time, I would tell that girl:
- To not meet strange men from the internet without precautions set in place. Or to just not meet them at all.
- That it wasn’t her fault and to put down the shame that came with it.
- To report that bastard and send him to hell. There are things that cannot simply slide.
- To have some standards and stop being colorblind with red flags.
- That she is loved and that her life has value.
