Don't Forget the Pepper Spray (Second Edition). Kristen Marie

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СКАЧАТЬ the car for her and when the friend had noticed the car was missing, he had called the police and declared it stolen.

      So there I am in my expensive dress sharing a holding cell with a woman who looks like she could bench press me, eating a very dry and salty meal provided by the officer. This was not the dinner I had in mind. Finally, a few hours later, Frank was able to contact his parents who were able to verify that he was indeed related to the owner of the vehicle. Whether he ever had permission to take the car will never be known all I cared about was that the charges were dropped.

      Frank had the guts to call me the next day and try to laugh it off, saying that we had gotten dinner one way or another. I explained to him that it isn’t dinner when the state pays and I promptly hung up.

      TERRITORY MARKERS

      I have discovered that men are territorial. When they take you out, and they are at least a little interested, they like to mark you as theirs. That way, when any other man comes sniffing around, they will catch the “a man has been here” scent and run away. Now, just because they symbolically “piss” on you, it doesn't mean they aren't interested in seeing other women—it just means they want to sabotage you seeing other men.

      One man I went out with seemed to be very interested. Things had gone well on the dates we had and I was very, very excited about him. At the end of one date, we were talking about when we were going to get together next and he said he was looking forward to it. Before he left I asked if he had everything. He said that he didn’t, he had left a sweatshirt in the other room. I went to get it but he stopped me. He said he wanted to leave it there so that he “had a reason to come back.” I thought that was cute until the next week when he started flaking out on the things that we were going to do together and then stopped calling, texting or e-mailing. It wasn’t long before he basically disappeared from my life altogether.

      In the end, we agreed to be friends and he knew I was okay with everything. However, there was still the matter of the sweatshirt. Although I was fine with him and the situation, that sweatshirt stared at me for weeks, reminding me of his “promise” to come back. I put it away in a linen closet so I wouldn’t have to see it, but it still hung over me. After a month and a half, I finally contacted him and asked him nicely to come and get his shirt. He joked about it, but wouldn’t commit to coming back. I was baffled. If he wasn’t interested, why would he want to leave his sweatshirt with me?

      I felt like I was in the middle of a game and I didn’t like it. So, I put the shirt in a plastic bag on my porch and told him that he could come get it anytime. That way he wouldn’t have to see me. The bag stayed on my porch for 3 weeks—24/7. He still didn’t get it. My girlfriends kept telling me that I needed to throw it in the garbage or donate it to a charity, but I just couldn’t do that. He was still my friend—even after the disappearing act. Finally, I found my opportunity.

      It was his birthday. There was an open invitation to attend his party at a local fun park. At first I thought it might be a little awkward; I hadn’t seen him since he’d so unceremoniously walked away. Then I got an idea. I wrapped up the shirt in wrapping paper with a big, pretty bow. I got one of my close friends to attend with me. We got to the park and there he was, standing in front of the building. He greeted me with a big smile and a hug. It really was great to see him again. Then, I presented my gift. He started to thank me for being so sweet, and then stopped when he felt what was in the package. He looked at me and said, “That’s my sweatshirt, isn’t it?” I laughed and said, “Well, I figured it was the right size, the right color, and probably a style you’d like. I couldn’t lose.” He laughed a little awkwardly and then hurried to put it in his car before anyone else noticed. Mission accomplished, sweatshirt delivered, mark washed off.

      Having dated for a little while now, I’ve noticed that each man has his own unique way of marking his territory. One guy left a necklace draped over the post of my bed. Why did he take it off and put it there? I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to give me a present. Maybe he wanted me to never forget him. Or maybe he wanted to leave his male mark on the most intimate space in my home. Once again, after being marked, he left and I never saw him again.

      Another guy I dated, although a great guy, had a phobia of limiting himself to dating only one girl. Although he didn’t want to be exclusive, he still wanted to let all of the guys know that he had a claim on me. But, unlike the others, this guy didn’t leave clothing or other material items—he used photos. He liked to post pictures of the two of us all over a social networking site we both were on. Lots of guys that asked me out were on the same site and he made sure that everyone could see us, clearly on dates, and once again, I was symbolically marked.

      Some guys like more extreme techniques. For example, I’ve had a man show up in the middle of the night asking me to come out onto my balcony as he yelled to the neighborhood how much he loved me. This was after only 2 dates. I wasn’t amused and neither were my neighbors. Another extremist I dated started a rumor that he and I were engaged. He went so far as to tell my boss at a function that he was my fiancé. I had to explain to her that he was simply delusional. Another man wrote his name in pen on my car seat. You’d think that would only happen in junior high, but no, this man was 36. One guy even tried to put a picture of himself on my wall. Are you kidding me?

      One of my personal favorites was a guy that liked to call and find out what I was wearing so that he could make sure we matched. He could have just been into color coordination, but I suspect he was trying to make sure people could see at a glance that we were together. I started making a point of telling him I was wearing one thing and would wear something entirely different. When questioned, I’d tell him, with as innocent a look on my face as possible, that I just changed my mind last minute. Our relationship didn’t last too long after that.

      It’s not just me. My friends have the same problem. One of my friends had a man leave his kayak in her yard—close enough to her door to be seen by any man that might want to come into the house. Another friend was seeing a guy for a short time, and on every visit to her house, he would bring something: a book, accessories, an extra shirt, food, kitchen appliances, and more. It was like he was trying to move in.

      No offense guys, but we don’t like getting pee’d on. Women aren’t territory, they’re people. So, unless your stuff is invited or has a high resale value, leave it at home. You want a girl that wants you, not your stuff anyway.

      THE CLOSET

      I have always felt that the best way to get over a man is with another man. So, when I got divorced after several years of being lied to and cheated on, I became a serial dater. I needed an ego boost so badly, that I had a date nearly every night. I’m not justifying the mentality, but at the time, it helped.

      I dated Phil, who was very nice, but he lacked fire and reminded me of a clammy fish. Not just any clammy fish, but a very persistent one whose behavior inspired me to Google restraining orders—you know, in the event I should need one. There was Bill, who was a fantastic cook and a handsome enough guy—but he had too much fire under the surface. I feared, should he stub his toe, get looked at wrong or just miss his morning paper, he might explode and take everything out with him. Then there was Stewart, an accomplished business man and sweetheart who, unfortunately, talked in a very high-pitched and feminine voice when he was nervous. It kind of freaked me out. And, let’s not forget Michael. Michael was a muscular, gorgeous hunk of a man that was nice to look at, but I quickly discovered was a little self-absorbed and had a problem with boundaries. He liked to drop by my house uninvited. At first, it was flattering. Then, it got kind of annoying. I finally said something to him about it and he apologized. However, by this point in time, I didn’t care if he ever dropped by again—because something spicy was brewing at work with my boss, Jack.

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