The Worm wears Prada (& drives a Porsche)
Wed, Sep 9 2009 11:19
| cautionary tales, 1999
After I wrote my last post, I thought to myself "Why have I never had a Sugar Daddy of my own?". It would have been easy. I'm attractive. I'm a good conversationalist. I obviously have a sweet tooth for ridiculously priced luxury goods. Then I remembered...
THE WORM.
I almost forgot about him. I met The Worm on the night of my 19th birthday. I had only been in the city for a week and hadn't met very many people yet. I was totally homesick for my friends I had left behind. When The Worm offered to take me out and "show me around" I took him up on his offer. I wasn't interested in him romantically (he was older, slightly rat like in appearance and a bit too fond of hair products) however, I was desperate for any kind of social contact. I thought "What could it hurt". I was a wide-eyed girl, (with the quintessential west coast frosted blonde highlights) who thought she was invincible but was really quite naive.
A few nights later he picked me up in his Porsche. We went for dinner and drinks on the roof-top patio of Remy's. He insisted that we both order the chocolate martinis. I thought this was all very sophisticated but in retrospect it was extremely cheesy. Afterwards he took me over to the posh night club he owned/managed in Yorkville (a ritzy area in Toronto). At the club I met his "friends" (a collection of dudes who all looked like Lebanese versions of Tony Soprano) and the free drinks started to flow like water. As soon as I would set down my drink, there would be another Tequila shot to replace it. I wasn't paying for anything, but I was getting wasted.
My Zack Morris comment of the day:
If the drinks are flowing THAT freely, you're totally drunk and you look around the only people around you are GUYS: Note, absolutely nothing good is going to happen here. Get out of the situation now. Call a cab and leave.
Unfortunately, that's when I blacked out.
When I came to, I was in The Worm's car, speeding down the Don Valley Parkway. His hands were up my skirt and he was reaching into my panties. I was incredibly groggy, but I managed to forcibly remove his hand. That's when I noticed that we were headed OUT of the city (in the complete opposite direction of my house). This kind of jolted me awake with fear. I asked him what the hell he was doing. He said:
"I'm taking you to the hotel room I rented. You said you wanted to come with me"
I asked him to take me home immediately. We then played a game of tug of war where his hand would keep reaching up my skirt and I would keep forcibly removing it, asking him to take me home. I probably would have been able to defend myself better if I hadn't been you know, slipping in and out of consciousness. However, luckily for some reason he eventually gave up and turned the car around. What if he hadn't though?
When we got to my house, he grabbed me kissed me. I pushed him off and tried to get out of the car. He grabbed my arm roughly and said "You're a tease. You OWE me. I fucking bought you dinner!" & stuffed my hand down his pants. (And let me note, as the name suggests, The Worm didn't have anything in there worth writing home about). I guess this was what he meant when he said he'd "show me around town". Disgusted, I got out of the car and slammed the door. He leaned out the window and yelled out:
"YOU'RE A FUCKING BITCH!!!" before speeding off, burning rubber.
So, The Worm was a total fucking PRICK. That's not what makes me mad about this story. What angers me is how stupid I was. I mean really what was I thinking? I KNEW better. Of course he didn't want to be my "friend". Of course he wanted more. There were tons of red flags but I went out with him anyways. No one knew where I was. This evening could have ended a LOT worse (What if I had woken up in the hotel room and not the car? Or not woken up until it was too late?) but, by some stroke of luck it didn't end that way. This experience sucked but I have realized a few things since then:
I made the decision to steer clear of flashy guys. The Porsche, the Prada wardrobe, the Yorkville nights, the freebies: I don't trust it. To me, all the shiny objects just serve as a distraction the unequal power dynamic that is at play. Nothing is ever really free. Everything has a price. And for every wide eyed girl (or boy) there is 10 older guys just waiting to "show them around town". For some people this kind of thing works for them. They have their fun and they're OK with the potential unequal power relationship. I don't judge them. If you're able to work the game so that you come out on top, then all the more power to you. I'm just not interested in playing & paying. I never EVER want to have someone think that I "OWE" them something again.
(Instead, I spent my early twenties dating starving artist types, which also didn't work out that well. But, that is a blog post for another day)
What's a lesson that you had to learn the hard way?
