WARNING: This post contains adult language that may upset some folks and may upset work computers. Also, the content is pretty sexual, not by choice. Please read at your own risk.
Imagine it’s a week day and you have gotten up at the usual ungodly hour of 0600 to get the kids up and ready for school (I’m a night owl. Anything before 10 is ungodly.)
You’re dragging butt because you haven’t had any caffeine yet, and you are getting ready to fight with your kids about getting up and getting dressed to get out the door on time. One child is awake and the other is fighting you. You’re trying to make lunches (which you know you should have made the night before) and you’re also trying to find a second sock for one of the children because, God knows, you’re the only damn person that kind find anything in the house.
Your text message goes off on your cell phone. You wonder who in the world would be texting you so early. You glance at your iPhone and you see a text for your previous landlord. Weird. You hadn’t heard from him in months, hadn’t seen him in person for a year and hadn’t been particularly close when you lived there. Wonder why he’s texting?
You unlock your phone and read the message**. It says: “Heyyy.”
Well, too odd. You, not wanting to be rude, respond: “Good morning.”
He texts back: “Heyy what ya doing?”
You text back, again not wanting to be rude: “Getting the kids ready for school and then headed out to do some teacher observations for my college class. What are you up to?”
You get this response: “Dogs r locked upz (sic), back door is open should come over, I’m in living rm n want my dickb (sic) in uyour(sic) mouth, been drinking, all fucked up.”
This was the way my morning actually started on 11 March.
Before we go any further with this (yes, this isn’t a figment of my imagination, nor was this the last text I received from him that morning), I want to offer some clarification.
1. In the entire year that I lived in the house that he rented me we didn’t exchange much more in the way of conversation other than me asking him to come by and pick up the rent and me requesting of him to not smoke weed in the garage because it stunk up my house.
2. He never, not once, hit on me. I never, not once, hit on him.
3. We never, in the year that I lived there, exchanged anything more than a handshake, twice. Once when I signed the rental agreement and once when he signed the piece of paper that cleared me from the house.
I tell you all of this because I want you to understand how random this text was. I want you to understand how shocked I was to receive it. When I got this text, I realized that he must have been drinking hard and was drunk texting me as he had never, ever done anything like this before. I also knew, or hoped, that he would regret the hell out of this text when he finally sobered up. So, I took a minute to think about my response. The conversation continued….
Me: “I think I’ll pass on that great offer, simply because I’m a little time crunched this morning. But I do appreciate you thinking of me.” (My idea here was to create an out for him, saying no with a little levity and not hitting back at him too hard. Remember, I had expectations that he would regret this when he sobered up.)
Him: “Lol. Stop by for a min. Might like what I have. Haha.”
Me: I really can’t. I know I’ll be sorry I missed it though. (Again, shooting for levity and sarcasm.)
Him: “Been wanting you. :)”
Him: “Stop by for ten min, let me eat that sweet pussy. :)” (Is it just me, or do the smiley faces make it even more creepy than it already is?)
Him: “Back door is open.”
Me: “I really can’t. And I don’t want to be rude, but I think you’ll really regret this conversation a little later. I’m not coming over. But, again, thank you for the sweet offer.”
Him: “Sorry, I’m fucked up. If you change your mind?”
Me: “You’ll be the first to know. Promise.”
Him: “Let me eat that.” (To this day, I’m not sure how I resisted such a sweet offer)
Me: “Seriously, no. But, thank you again for thinking of me.”
Him: “Or fucku (sic) from behind, I’ll smack that ass n pull that hair. Pound ya real nice. I got a huge cock Robin” (Yes, he called me by name, which means he knew who he was texting. Also, he sent this gem of a text twice)
Him: “Ok. Sorry to bother ya.”
Him: “I got 7 inches n 2 inch thick :)” (Again, creepy smiley face. Yuck!)
Him: “Dogs r locked up n I’m naked in livin rm :)”
Him: “Door is open. Come n suck my cock.”
At this point, I’m into snarky mode. And more than a little creeped out by all of this.
Me: “No. But I’m shocked that I can control myself to not take advantage of those amazing numbers and not take you up on your offer.”
Him: “Come over here, there’s parkin in back. I want my cock in ur mouth.” (I know there’s parking in back. It’s where I parked for a year while I lived there.)
Me: “And I want world peace, but I’m afraid that’s just not going to happen for either of us today. Unfortunately.”
I figured with that last text, that that would be the end of it. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get his cock sucked and he wasn’t done with the conversation.
Him: “Whatever. I’m surprised, thought you’d let me eat that. No prob. Door is open.”
Me: “Did you? Why?”
Him: “Cuz I saw you check me out n I love eating pussy n your (sic) in your sexual prime. N all.”
Now, at this point, I’m done. I don’t respond. Before he sent that last text, I was just skeeved out and was going to laugh it off. A random morning convo with a man that had spent too much time in the bar the night before.
But that last comment really pissed me off. I mean really pissed me off. Because he thought that I checked him out (which I didn’t), I was supposed to rush over there and suck his cock like he had finally offered me a gift that I had been waiting over a year for? You mean to say that I can’t look at a man, admire a man, without him thinking that I want to just dive into his pants?
Look, guys, I get it. I understand that when you are checking out a woman, you are checking out her fuckability. Not every time, not every man. But, let’s be honest. In fact, I’ve been on dates with a man, watched him check out the waitress or another female patron and had him say, “I’d do that.” Guys in colleges give women a score of 1-10 on a fuckability scale. I get it. And, to be honest, sometimes women do it, too.
But, just because you check someone out does not mean that you really want them to come up and ask you, so romantically, to suck their cock. Men, seriously? Let me help you out here: most women are not going to respond favorably to, “Come on, baby, suck my cock.” Not unless you’re paying her by the hour. It’s just not going to happen. It’s one thing if you’re in the heat of the moment. If she’s feeling it and you’re feeling it.
But cold? Like this?
That’s like having Jehovah’s Witness knock on your door and ask you if you want to be saved. You’re immediate answer, for the most part, is going to be “no.”
And, guys, once she says “no,” don’t keep on. Chances are the answer is not going to change.
One more pro-tip for the guys: this kind of text messaging, if it is not welcomed by the woman, is grounds for a sexual harassment charge. Period.
The only reason I didn’t report this man is because this was the first time he had ever done anything like this. If he ever does it again, though, all bets are off.
And that’s what I told him on Wednesday morning when he texted me to apologize profusely for his behavior the day before.
The lesson here? Well, other than guys can be the biggest dicks? I’m not sure.
But at least now I can cross off “Be sexually harassed by text message” off of my bucket list.
**Everything in quotes is a word for word transcription of the text conversation that actually happened between myself and my landlord, starting at 6:15 am on Tuesday, March 11, 2014.