A Shot in the Dark

A while back I had one of the more bizarre experiences of my life. Possibly the most bizarre, even. Some of my friends play intramural soccer, and it was the night of their last game. I met them at a bar for some drinks afterward. This bar has horrible parking, so I parked my car in the parking lot of a nearby Kinko's.

I had a couple of beers with the guys, and then had to meet some other friends. As I reached my car, a sedan pulled up next to me. The man driving had his window down. At this point, I had my car door open, and I was about to sit down. The conversation that follows is not embellished.

Him: "Can I ask you for directions?

Me: "Sure."

Him: "Can you tell me how to get to The Blah Blah Bar." (Sorry, I don't remember the name.)

Me: "I've never heard of that one. I have no idea where it is."

Him: "Can I compliment you on two things?"

Me: "Um, I guess, but I really have to go."

Him: "Are you Irish?"

Me: "No."

You can see where this is going, I'm sure, so I'll skip ahead and let you know that my hair is not naturally red. I know, I know. Now you're all disappointed. But that's the truth, and I am a truth-teller. Typically. At this point, I'm fairly amused with this fellow. Fast-forward about 30 more seconds in the conversation.

Him: "So I saw you walking to your car in your cute little skirt with your cute little walk, and I had to stop and ask you something."

Me: "For directions?"

Him: "No. I had to ask if there was someone waiting at home for you. Waiting for you to come home in your cute little skirt with your little white thong, so he can pleasure you all night."

Me: "Uuhhh…yeah, I gotta run. Lovely to meet you." Yeah, right. Perv. And I'm not wearing a white thong, but that's neither here nor there, I suppose.

Him: "Can I just ask you one question?"

Me: "You've actually already asked me several questions, and I really have to go."

Now, I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I just leave? And I should have. Half of me was pretty horrified, but the other half of me was so amused.

Him: "Is your lover well-hung? I know girls with your body type like a man with a big cock because it fits better. I'm guessing he's about 10 or 11 inches."

Me: Speechless. What?

So at this point, I was more worried about my safety than I was amused. So I reached forward to grab the door handle to close my door. As I leaned forward, I could see into this pervy man's car. Yeah, he's not wearing any pants. No pants. And his right arm is moving back and forth in fast motion. Holy crap. I don't want to be too graphic about all this, but…holy crap. He could have squirted me in the eye. Do they have pregnancy tests for that?