I remember I met a girl online on some dating website during a stressful period in college. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to socialize in the male-dominated side of the engineering campus where I spent 90% of my awake hours. After bouncing a few emails with Karen, we decided to meet up at my apartment for a movie date. She was fairly attractive, and had a wonderfully fit body she spent a lot of work on, and wasn’t shy about it.
We had very little chemistry unfortunately, and many conversational topics struggled to retain momentum. We put in a movie and decided just to go with it anyways. During the movie, she cuddled closely and gradually became more “friendly”. I could tell where this evening was going to go, but I was reluctant because I knew there was no chemistry, no serious prospect of a relationship, and we had no future together. On the other hand, my mind began racing through my memories, trying to remember the last time I had kissed a girl. Weeks? Months? A year or more?? It HAD been a while. What was I doing during all this time? Oh, Mechanical Engineering… right. My mind resolved with, "Oh what the hell!" so, I went and kissed her. She was more than receptive, and seemed to have been waiting for me to make the first move. Afterwards, I jokingly asked if she usually kisses a guy on the first date, or if she just really liked me. We joked about it for a while, and we agreed just to have fun for now, and see if it went anywhere. I found out later that this was a big mistake with this girl. There was a term widely used in Utah subculture, NCMO, pronounced “nickmo”. It stands for “Non-committal make-out.” That’s all what happened that night, and I figured we would have left it at that, with perhaps the possibility of another encounter in the future. I implore the reader not to make hasty judgements. She had a fantastic body, and actually wanted to spend time smooching a dorky engineer!
A few days later I got a call from her, so we made small-talk. I quickly remembered how awkward and rocky our dialogue was. Midway through our conversation she started using the word “boyfriend”. I was confused at first. Did she mean some other guy? Did she mean me? Before I could ask for clarification, she started rambling about us being together, and even marriage. Cue the mental alarm. I slammed the brakes on the conversation, and told her that I was under the impression that it was just a NCMO, a term she had actually used that night. She then turned hostile and accused me of treating her like a piece of meat, and completely using her. After letting her vent, I asked innocently, “Isn’t that exactly what you did to me too?” She violently responded, “IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!” Quickly realizing our conversation would be limited due to her views of social double-standards, I briefly apologized for any misunderstanding and things wouldn’t work between us, then hung up.
I thought I had seen the last of her. Oh how wrong I was.
A few months later I was with my fraternity chapter at a formal social gathering/dance at the Eccles Stadium. I was talking to a friend, Ron. During our conversation, he had regaled me with an entertaining dating disaster story of his. I also exchanged a few stories, including my encounter with Karen. Shortly thereafter his eyes widened while looking over my shoulder, and he quickly positioned himself so that I was between him and whatever he saw behind me. Flustered, he asked me, “You remember that girl I told you about? Well, she’s right behind you. Don’t let her see me.” I was going to mess with Ron a bit, and playfully exploit this entertaining and unexpected vulnerability, until I saw who he was talking about. It was Karen! My brain broke. I stared at her, stunned like a deer in the headlights. She saw both of us, and approached. I didn’t know exactly what to do, but as soon as I formulated an escape plan in my mind, I looked to Ron to coordinate a strategic departure, but he was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, our encounter wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, and I directed her curiosity at Ron who had ditched out on me. I saw which pillar he hid behind, but I told her to go find him in a different direction. Lucky for me, I didn’t see her for the remainder of the evening. Once again, I thought that was the end of her. Nope.
Several months passed, and I still had Karen on my friend’s list on Myspace. I’m not sure why, maybe morbid curiosity, or maybe because we had a mutual friend or two. I had become aware of her swooning over her fiancée and how wonderful they were together, along with tedious announcements of how many days until their wedding. Much to my surprise, one day I got a phone call from Karen. I was having a really rough week after experiencing a painful betrayal from a girl I was dating. I would have been better off, just letting the call go to voicemail, but for reasons unknown, I answered. I did little speaking. Karen went on a lengthy story that I paid little attention to, nor cared much about. It sounded as though she just needed a ride home since none of her friends were available. I was annoyed, but I didn’t have the nerve to tell her to find her own ride home, so I grabbed my keys and left. I picked her up, and was in the process of driving her home, and I noticed that between her incessant complaining about her “boyfriend”, she was acting unsettlingly flirtatious. It reached a point where as I was nearing her apartment, her advances became blatantly obvious. Suddenly, everything came into clear focus in an instant. I could see it all. Her motive, plan, and use of me in her efforts to try and make her boyfriend/fiancée jealous in an attempt to patch her struggling relationship. It all made sense now, with the bits of her ranting picked up by my subconscious, my mind produced a logic diagram of what she was trying to do. I was extremely sensitive about this because my previous painful breakup had been due to this exact same phenomenon. I was simply a pawn, being used to make some other guy jealous, in a stupid emotionally draining game. After I served that purpose, I would be discarded with some sort of entitled sense of righteous justification. At that moment, she reached over and touched my inner thigh while blabbering some stupid pseudo-affectionate words as we pulled next to her complex. I literally slammed on the brakes, pulled over, and removed her hand from me. I can’t remember exactly what I said after that, but it was not nice, not kind, and in all probability downright hostile. All the bitter feelings from my previous breakup were opened up like floodgates and forced out through a conduit directed at Karen. Yes, it wasn't exactly fair, but it is what happened. I do remember telling her at the end, “I find what you’re doing absolutely disgusting and vile. Don’t ever talk to me again. You are a horrible person.” She got out of my car, and I put it in gear. I had never spoken such hostile words to any woman before, and I had imagined at that moment, that she would have collapsed and started crying. Yet she stood there, glared at me with icy eyes and a clenched jaw. I whipped an illegal U-turn while spinning my tires, and drove off feeling slightly better having rid myself of such a filthy parasite. Thereafter, I removed her from my Myspace friend list, and removed her number from my phone. I thought that would be the last time I would ever see or hear from Karen again.
Once again, I was wrong.
Years pass. I graduated college and spent over a year or more in my professional career. I was home visiting family at my grandparent’s home with cousins, and I got a phone call from a SLC area code. My boss had an 801 area code number, and figured he might be in the office. I answered, anticipating instructions for my next job assignment. It was Karen. It took me a full minute to process her words, and just to remember exactly who I was talking to. Soon, I remembered who this woman was, and the rather unpleasant parting words. Karen was in a monologue of how she “needed some stability in her life” and “there should be more men like you”. Then, she blabbered on how she cherished the time we had together, and would love it if we gave things another chance. I was stunned. I didn’t know how to respond, so my mouth just remained gaping. With the awkward pause in conversation, she continued how she really liked me, unlike her jerk-of-a-fiancée. Somehow, I managed to tell her, “I’m not in Utah anymore.” This didn’t seem to register for her, and she explained many details about my life since our last encounter that I never shared with her. I suspected my privacy settings in Facebook/Myspace might need alteration. Then after her suggestion that she become part of my life’s adventures I tried to interrupt. Unsuccessfully. Karen then told me about her fight with her fiancée. How it was all just a big misunderstanding, and needed someone to come pick her up…. From JAIL. "Wait… WHAT?! Jail?!" Apparently she was being held under charges of Break-in and Entry, in addition to Assault & Battery, by her fiancée! I couldn’t begin to process everything mentally, so I stammered out, “…ou’re ..br…ing…up.. y phon… ….. .. signa….. can’t he…..” then hung up.
That is finally the last I heard from Karen. Hopefully it will remain the last.
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