Okay, so here's the deal with Mark.
After the whole makeout session a while back, we had a nice decorous little lunch together. Then, that weekend, we went to the movies and then came back to my room and, well, you know, had sex.
It was good. It was great. It was divine, even. It was, in fact, good in the way that it only is when you really care about the other person. Afterwards, we cuddled up on the bed together and drifted off to sleep still basking in the afterglow.
There was a fire alarm at 4 a.m.
We shot up and out of bed, looked at each other, threw on some clothes and shoes, grabbed our keys and left the building. And, oh, the look I got from the bitchy girl across the hall when we stumbled out of my room together.
So we got outside and hey, it was pouring down rain. We huddled with everyone else under the one big tree in the courtyard and waited for about ten minutes. At that point, we were both tired and wet and not completely happy. So Mark suggested that we just leave and go to his place to spend the rest of the night.
It sounded like a good idea to me, so I agreed and we left to drive down to his apartment.
His place was so incredibly nice. It was relatively big for an apartment downtown, it was clean and smelled really good, and he had good furniture and everything. I was all ready to go back to sleep and everything, but then he got all weird.
Basically, we started fooling around again, and he decided that he wanted to have anal sex. I expressed my concern about such an idea, namely that he didn't happen to have any lube and it sounded really painful, and I really wasn't very into the idea anyway.
He freaked the fuck out.
He started calling me a slut and a whore, and not in that sorta sexy way that some guys can do. No, he really meant it, and he said it in a really mean way. He said that he knew I was such a slut that there was no way I'd never gotten it in the ass before, and basically a bunch of other crap along those lines. And he'd spent so much money on movies and dinners and drinks for me that he thought I owed it to him, and other complete bullshit.
I have no idea what happened. He got so angry that I was seriously afraid and more than a little freaked out. I mean, really, I'd been out with him a few times and had never gotten the idea that he was so psycho. If I'd ever had any little bit of an inkling, I never would have gone to his place alone, you know? It's not like it was our first date or anything.
So anyway, there was no way I was going to stay there with him, so I grabbed my clothes and started putting them on, figuring I'd catch a bus or walk home or something.
He wasn't having that. He started screaming at me and grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me on the bed. I was already a bit scared, but then I looked at him and saw that he was, um, aroused, and that terrified me more than I had ever been in my life. I was convinced that he was going to rape me and god only knows what else.
Until then, I'd been in sort of a state of shock, but once he managed to pin me down and was trying to grab my arms so that he could really keep me down, I just snapped and started screaming my head off. When he heard that, it was like a switch had been tripped. He jumped off of me and started apologizing profusely, saying that he didn't know what had gotten into him.
He gave me my clothes back, and pleaded with me to stay. I refused. He called me a cab, even though I told him not to, and paid the driver before we left. I was, and still am, very uncomfortable with that fact, but honestly, I had left my room without my wallet, so I had no cash or even a bus pass with me, and the driver had already been dispatched, so really, I didn't know what to do.
Since then, I've refused to talk to him at all. He calls sometimes and I tell him I don't want to talk to him. Sometimes he gets the idea and says goodbye. Other times, he stays on the line and tries to talk and I have to hang up on him.
It's sad, yo. He was the nicest seeming guy I'd ever met before, the "best" guy who had ever shown a real interest in me. And it all went so, so wrong.
And then I felt a much stronger affection for trent, who, despite his flaws, had never ever made me feel threatened or scared the way that Mark had. A few days later, there was the big trent blowup, which we still haven't figured out. One of the big reasons behind the fight was that he felt smothered by my sudden peak in fondness for him.
It figures, no?