I remember one of my well-meaning girlfriends setting me up with an eligible bachelor when I was in my early twenties. She described him as being “from a respected and wealthy local family”, like that was supposed to mean something to me at the time. I was never a social climber. In fact, quite the opposite. I really didn’t care one fig how much money a guy had, or made, as long as he treated me well.
I figured that a man was lucky to be with me. (by the way…every woman should feel this way about their man)
He was very nice and kind of fun to be around on the first few dates, but as time moved forward, he became overbearing. He started laying down rules for me to follow. Rules! I listened to his sermon and politely started letting his calls get picked up by my answering machine. (these days that would read “go to voicemail” or “I blocked his number”)
Now I’m not a prude, but it took some doing for me to have sex with a guy and I wasn’t having sex with this one. I actually made up my mind that sex probably wasn’t even in the cards with this guy because I just did not have those strong and loving feelings for him. I thought he and I would eventually end up just being friendly. So the fact that he was laying the ground work for any kind of future entanglement without even consulting me first meant he had seriously jumped off the deep end all by his onesy.
Then one day I came home to find a stack of beautiful oriental rugs stacked in front of my front door. After hauling them inside, I read the three page letter he had left with them. I won’t drive you nuts with the crazy talk, but essentially he was giving me these rugs as a token of his love, since my apartment was all hardwood floors and needed a few rugs.
At the time I had no idea what this really meant, but I do now because I ended up living it.
The rugs weren’t a gift at all. They had strings attached to them.
I called to thank him for his generosity, but told him I could not accept his gift because I thought that he and I should just be friends and this was an extravagance that he didn’t need to spend on me. He scoffed and told me to keep the rugs. He wasn’t trying to buy me with carpets and that being friends was all he ever wanted too. Well, okay then! We were on the same page.
At least, I thought we were.
The daily calls persisted and the messages would progress from “Hey! Just calling to see what you’re up to!” to “Look bitch! If you can’t call me back then I want my rugs back!” I finally picked up the phone and told him to come get the rugs. They would be rolled up in the hallway for him that afternoon. But instead of agreeing to do this, he backpedaled. “Oh I didn’t mean it like it sounded! I am so sorry! I just thought you said we could be friends and this is what friends do. They call each other and they hang out together! I just thought we were getting started on our new friendship!” All said in a saccharine sweet voice that made the hair on my arms stand up.
I should have known better! But I allowed this kind of verbal and mental abuse to continue a few more weeks before finally reaching my boiling point. I called my friend Steve and asked if he would help me deliver all of those rugs to the guy’s parent’s house, which was where he still lived.
We cruised up the driveway and I jumped out to knock on the front door, while Steve started bringing each rug roll to lay on the steps. I don’t know who I was expecting to answer the door, but whoever it was, I was prepared.
His mother was the lucky door prize!
When she saw what was being delivered she gasped and asked me if these were rugs I had gotten from her son, Taylor. I told her yes, and that her son Taylor had delivered them to my apartment as a gift, but I had no room for them and had to return them to him. The look on her face was priceless and I can bet that Mr. Taylor got his ass beat that night. His mother thanked both Steve and I and then proceeded to tell us where Taylor had gotten his little gift of rugs to give to me.
The jackhole had taken them from his grandmother’s house! He had gone in there and rolled up almost every expensive oriental carpet and told her that he was having them cleaned for her! Some of the rugs he had carelessly left rolled up and unattended in the hallway of my apartment building were worth tens of thousands of dollars!!
So the next time a Lothario presents you with ill gotten gains and the promise of a magic carpet ride you’re not interested in taking, make sure that you yank extra hard when you pull the rug out from under him.