Agoraphobia: A story of how it happened
A few years ago, I was running through Central Park as I always did when I had the time. A young fiery woman with eyes of silver passed me as if she were Shane Mosley “fighting” Manny Pacquiao. Luckily, she caught one of my shoelaces under her Nike runners and sent me flopping to the cement.
I feared the worst. Not only did I embarrass myself in front of this magical woman, but I carved up my knee enough it looked as if it were ready to be served on a platter with fish balls and soy sauce.
“Oh my God, are you OK?” This seemingly angel of death called out.
“Ough.” Was the only sound my mouth could mutter.
“Let me take a look at your knee.” She said, as if she knew what she was getting herself into. “Eek! There’s skin everywhere!”
At that moment, I knew I could start playing the “hurt man needs some loving” routine. I grabbed my knee and winced in pain.
She was kind. Her humanitarianism was to where she didn’t realize if she were flirting or simply being helpful.
Sally, as her name turned out, brought me to a medical clinic where they pronounced my knee to only having simple scrapes and bruises. Of course, I didn’t manage to tell Miss Silver Eyes what they had said.
Her kindness allowed me to pull off my planned routine to perfection. I asked if she could at least spare me a meal, since I forked over the money to cover the medical bill.
“Oh yes! That’s the least I can do after what I had done.”
“Oh yeah, baby!” Ran through my head, but luckily didn’t come to audibility.
She brought me to a fish house, which I thought perfectly fit the situation. The flirting continued, at least on my part.
“Ugh, my knee burns.” I whined.
She wrapped her pencil long fingers around my knee and began to stroke it.
“That… that makes it feel a little better.” I claimed.
She smiled like a toddler being given a lollipop. Her eyes, though, were anything but those of a toddler. Swimming in not only beauty but lust. Lust like I haven’t seen since my years as a freshman at Berkley.
“The plan is working.” This time, I wasn’t so lucky to keep it inaudible.
“What is?”
“My plan for you to come home with me.” I smiled as wide as the Mississippi.
“Oh.” She smiled back, but didn’t say anything else.
This is when the fun began, or so I thought.
“Want to leave this place?”
“Sure, but only if we go back to your place.”
I quickly called over the stumpy waiter and paid, in cash, like only a man in a hurry does.
I gave her directions to my apartment, and before I could turn on the lights to show her around she had already begun nibbling on my ear.
“Mmm.” I moaned, wanting more.
Of course, I only wish the rest of the next half-hour was as delicious. She stopped the nibbling. It turned to biting. And not playful biting. It hurt. They hurt. The bites.
The next few minutes, which seemed like hours, were the worst moments of my life. Agoraphobia set in. After convincing her to leave my apartment, I couldn’t stop crying.
Tears ran from my cheeks for days.
Due to agoraphobia I can no longer pick up women. I’m scared. Terrified that the biting will happen again.
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Ok, I realize this isn’t the best ending but I was getting a little tired of writing. If you have a better one, please comment!
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