Rando Roundup: The Chameleon

Sometimes, just to keep things interesting, I suppose, a Rando will use camouflage to lull you into a false sense of security before he (or she) shows their true colors. 

On the surface, all seems well—he’s attractive, moderately well-spoken, he didn’t try to start a conversation with either of the following:

a)      “Are your parents retarded, because you special.”

b)      “You must work at McDonald’s, because you’re McGorgeous.”

 

Sidebar: Notice the quotation marks? I have had both of these used on me. Same guy. He also called my home phone and hung up repeatedly and gave me a dilapidated fake rose in between classes on Valentine’s Day.

You think to yourself, “Wow. Normal guys never hit on me at the bar/pool/gym. This seriously never happens!” You’re flattered, and a little bit intrigued. You find yourself scribbling your number on a napkin, or, if you’re really prepared, one of these, and secretly hope that he calls you soon.

 

 

Then he texts you or calls you and the next thing you know, you realize that the Rando-in-Disguise has conned you into believing he’s Joe Cool, when in fact he is a RANDO.

Of course, this happened to me not too long ago. My friend, Katie (our own guest blogger) and I were at her pool, minding our own business, chatting about books and getting a tan, when we noticed these two guys come in and get in the water. We were into our own conversation, but after about thirty minutes or so, the guys approached and engaged us in some playful banter.

They seemed cute and nice and appeared to be interested in us, so we gave them our numbers without trepidation when they asked.

 

A few hours later, after Katie and I went our separate ways, I received this text from Secret-Rando Oliver—

Him: Hey, E, it’s Oliver. You girls just missed out on the best 100% fresh meat

 

Sidebar: When they left the pool, they said that they were going to cook up some Halibut they had allegedly caught themselves, so this comment makes me think that either Oliver and Co. don’t know the difference meat and fish, or he’s making an awkward, dirty comment.

 

Even with that promising first written exchange, I didn’t write him off completely yet.

 

Sidebar: Big mistake. Big. HUGE.

 

I heard again from Less-Secret-Rando Oliver a few days later at about eleven PM, when he asked if I wanted to meet up for a beer. I replied that I was actually already in for the night as I had an early morning, but perhaps another time?

Him: Yeah, maybe. I hope it’s earlier than six AM or I’m going to feel guilty

Me (confused, as this makes no sense): Why’s that?

Him: Let’s do tomorrow, then

 

Me: That might work. What time?

 

Him: I can probably do six

 

Me: Let me check with Katie. Your friend coming?

 

Sidebar: I assumed that both of them wanted to see both of us. At least, that was the impression I’d been given by the friend via facebook chat earlier that day.

 

 

Him: Ha, we only hang out in groups now? I could check

 

Sidebar: Perhaps I’m reading waaay too much into his inflexion here, but really, why was it such a big deal that I would rather NOT meet up with him alone? I don’t know him. I don’t know anyone who could vouch that he was not, in fact, the kind of person who would drug and kidnap me and sell me into white slavery (FYI, my mom had just watched Taken AGAIN…never a good thing). Even if a non-solitary meeting wasn’t his ideal, couldn’t he have just sucked it up?

At any rate, I tried to make light of this by saying, “ Well, you know how us girls are…always going to the bathroom in packs.

 

His response?

 

“There’s a lot of things they’re willing to do together...”

 

Aaaaannnd I’m done.

I never responded to that last text, gross and inappropriate as it was, so I was surprised when he texted me again the next night.

 

Him: Drinks tonight

 

Sidebar: Apparently, we’re skipping the niceties and not even bothering with punctuation at this point.

 

I said that I had already made plans with a friend, but to have fun. In return, I got one word: “flake.”

 

Oh, Definitely-a-Rando Oliver, you cut me deep…you cut me real deep.

 

I’ve been waiting by my phone with bated breath ever since.