He’s Not Playing Possum
March 15th, 2010
He asked me out to swing dance, which I love–been doing it for years. He picked me up in a church mini-van and took me to the “dance hall,” which turned out to be his church. He introduced me to everyone as his girlfriend. When he finally agreed to dance, he trampled all over my feet and complained that we would be great if I only “knew how to follow.” I told him I wanted to leave. He was driving the mini-van dangerously fast, talking about what a great driver he was, when he ran down a possum with a terrible crunch. I was devastated, but his reaction was deranged giggling. The high-pitched laughter continued all the way home, at which point he insisted on walking me to the door and actually dared trying to kiss me. Then he invited me to Youth Group that Sunday.
