My best friend at the time was dating a nice guy, and his friend wanted to go out with me.  I was trying to break up with my bad-news fiancé and date other guys (oh, that reminds me of another first date….I’ll tell you about that one in a minute).  So she set up a double date for us.  How can I say this?  The guy was a jerk and had quite a mouth on him.  I couldn’t stand him.  Finally I got tired of all his smart-mouth stuff, and I started answering his sarcastic comments with my own.

By then we had parked on Main Street for some reason.  I was in the back seat with my date.  My girlfriend and her boyfriend were in the front seat.  Next thing I know, my date was out of the car, ran over to my side of the car, reached in, and grabbed me by the neck (my window was rolled down because it was summertime).  He pulled me through the open window of the car (not fun, let me tell you), and I ended up on my back in the middle of the street, while he tried to choke me. 

Okay, as I said, I was trying to break up with my abusive fiancé and date other guys (I was 19 at the time).  Well, as you can imagine he was not happy about this.  He found out about one particular date and arrived at my apartment 30 minutes before the guy was supposed to pick me up.  We ended up in my bathroom, my back up against the wall and my legs wrapped around his hips, while he fucked the daylights out of me.  I was cool with that.  We all know how much I like fucking (naughty grin).  But that meant I had no time to shower or get ready for my date, who arrived a few minutes after the soon to be ex-fiancé left.  Now this was a guy I had known all through high school.  In fact he was the quarterback of the football team.  We had flirted with each other for years and were friends but had never dated, so I was excited to finally be in a dating situation with him.  Turns out all he did over dinner was tell me all the girlfriends of mine he had fucked.  I don’t know why he told me this.  What a boring snooze.  But who cares?  I obviously wasn’t going out with him again.

Anyway, when I got back from that yucky date, my ex-fiancé pops out of the bushes by my front door, where he had been hiding for who knows how long, and scares the we-willies out of me.  Then he proceeds to follow me into my apartment and tell me what a slut I am for the next hour.  Huh?  I mean, who doesn’t know that?  I love being a slut. *lusty grin*

Needless to say, I did finally get away from my ex-fiancé by packing up and moving in the middle of the night to the state of South Carolina, which is how I ended up here.  He stalked me and found me two weeks later, but I stood my ground and refused to go back to Georgia with him.  Smartest thing I ever did.  Several years later, I met and married the Uber.  And the rest (as they say) is history.  *wicked grin*