little troll man

I've been in a relationship for a long time. Only recently during a ladies only event was I reminded of what loneliness can sometimes drive you to as I related a story about my dating days. I was a bad dater. By this I mean that often, the men I found myself drawn to were beneath me. This sounds snotty, but literally, they were shorter than me and one of them didn't have shoulders. His body sort of went large'ish head, neck and then super sloped shoulders. My story at the ladies only event was centered upon one particular suitor who I met on a student film project. The only reason I think I was remotely attracted to this chap was that we had to repeatedly kiss for a scene It wasn't so much that he was a good kisser, it was just something to do and as a poor actress just coming to the city with no friends and no social life to speak of - I NEEDED SOMETHING TO DO! His name was Asaf - very typical of my inclination towards the Jewish persuasion - and he had hair everywhere except his receding hairline. Let's just preface this with saying - I decided I didn't like him early on, but continued to date him because I was lonely. Always a smart move. The particular memory of note began with quite a lovely meal at a sushi restaurant. I love sushi so this was great with me. After we ordred, the dinner conversation went a little something like this:

You know Ann, I think you're really emotionally intelligent

I'm not sure what to say. Thanks? Let's see what he has to say next:

Have you ever had your IQ tested?

Pushy. I had and didn't want to talk about it so I lied and said no.

I had mine tested - basically I'm a genius

'Really? how's that workin' out for you? I guess pretty well. 'Cause you figured out how to get me to go out with you. Ohhhh! This is fun! Tell me another story about how GENIUS you are!' Which of course I didn't say. But oh sweet Jesus, to go back in time!

After our lovely meal of sushi and condescension we headed back to my place in Brooklyn to have an 'evening' together. It was one of those box lay-outs and everything was painted girly pink (not my decor inspiration) with paper thin walls. Upon receiving him in my boudoir, he asked if he could see my closet.

ummm... okay. weird.

I had a beautiful 1930's slip that i had thrifted that summer. Asaf picks up the delicate garment with his grubby little hands.

can i try it on?

Now, I was brought up to be polite and so typical of my upbringing - I didn't want to offend his creepy inclination to ask if he could try on my lady things. Also I was thinking - 'I can't believe he is for real. I'm just gonna go along with it so in case he's joking, I come off as cool and put to rest that whole 'emotionally intelligent' nonsense. But he was for real. Oh yes, all 5'6" of his hairy little troll man body draped in my vintage silk slip was so, so, wrongly real.

It was really an experience I can honeslty say I'll never forget. And that's unfortunate. Or maybe not. I definitely know how to spot a troll now.