Master of Disaster

One would think that by their mid-twenties, a person would learn to recognize the so-called "red flags" in the beginning stages of dating someone. However, if that person happens to be me, then one would be totally mistaken in thinking that. I have come to recognize the blatantly obvious red flags, such as Short Man Syndrome, the obvious flirt, narcissism, the bum, the thug, the sex maniac, and so on. But one red flag I've seemed to have overlooked is messiness.

Now, I am not the cleanest person on earth, but I try to keep my messiness to a minimum. A few dishes in the sink, a pile of laundry or some specks of dirt are to be expected from time to time. However, a full out slob tends to be sloppy not only in their living space, but also in other aspects of their lives, especially relationships.

Awhile back, I dated a guy that presented no red flags at first. He was handsome, in shape, had his own place, etc. I was totally impressed with what I saw of his house, which was in the middle of a renovation. The living room and kitchen were very clean, with nice furniture, candles, and the whole nine yards. A few weeks later, I was blessed with seeing his shower. And by blessed I mean, scared shitless. The shower curtain had mold that was practically multiplying before my eyes. The plastic shelves in the corner were covered in grime, as were the bottles of product, none of which had anything in them. The floor and fixtures were in desperate need of a good, hard scrubbing. Hell, the whole thing needed to be thoroughly bleached and pressure washed.

I shrugged the shower thing off because he was, in fact, a bachelor, he was very busy with work, and I knew he was barely ever home. However, in one of our more intimate moments, he decided to ejaculate...not in me, not on me, but on the rug. We were positioned on the edge of the bed and before I could blink an eye, he had pulled out and was coming on his floor. And later, when I got up to use the (eek!) bathroom, I stepped in it.

And speaking of fluids, he liked loved his lubricant. He used loads of it. And when you use loads of lubricant, it tends to get on the sheets. A full week after a particular lube fest, I stayed at his house again. We were getting ready for bed, and I noticed a large dark spot on the sheets. I made a comment and he shrugged it off saying that it was from last time I was there. Ew. He had been sleeping in those sex-stained sheets for ONE.ENTIRE.WEEK!!! I cringed and took the side of the bed with the least obvious stains and left him to sleep in the nasty, dried puddle of yuck.

Needless to say, it didn't work out between us. He was indeed as messy in his relationships as he was with his house. He "forgot" to mention that I wasn't the only one he was dating A.K.A. having extracurricular lube fests. After I made a comment to him concerning monogamy, I never heard from him again. Red flags noted, lesson learned, and hopefully sheets were washed shortly after.