I’m still casually responding to messages from Sean. This is someone tried to get me to extend our date a little longer by grabbing my hand and bumping it against his erection.
“See what you did to me?” He asked, “Why are you leaving now, just when we were getting friendly?”
The pleasantness of the past three hours, which included a cutesy date of “Gossip Girl” and Chinese takeout, flew out the window. Bile rose to my throat. It was my second time ever spending time with this guy, and apparently a kiss goodnight was not enough. So I say goodnight as quickly as possible, snatch my hand away from his crotch area and nearly hit a wall with my shoulder in the rush to get the fuck out of there.
Why am I still talking to him? I don’t know. I suppose it was inappropriate and gross and could very well be a deal-breaking kind of thing to do. I haven’t seen him since then, and I know before I decide to hang out with him again we’ll have to have the “Do Not Ever Put Your Hands On Me (Or My Hands On You) Without Being Absolutely Respectful First”-talk. If I don’t have the balls to bring his offense up, I certainly won’t have the balls to ever see him again. At least that’s what I’ve promised myself.
Or at least we’ll have to hang out in a group. Hopefully there will be minimal crotch grabbing when my friends are around.
Posted by Katie 
