when the fantasy is shattered

Date: A Fall Monday in September of 2023

“C’mon Sage” I shout to my dog chewing a large stick on the ground. I pull the green leash attached to my waist, and we walk towards my car.

I have to take Sage to random empty parking lots due to his hatred of other dogs. After over a year, I finally figured out the safe spots to walk him in my town where I don’t have to worry about running into other people. Plus, I like this church because it has those beautiful stained glass windows.

I mean the Catholics fucked up a lot but they knew how to make pretty churches.

I check my phone and see I have a text from the man I am supposed to be meeting up with shortly. It says he is sorry his house is a mess. I reply - well there is still time to clean it. I glance in my review mirror and notice out of the corner of my eye a police car pull up and park behind me. I wait unsure if they are there because of me.

Two officers get out of their car.

One man, somewhat hot, one woman, pretty small.

What the fuck is going on?

My dog starts barking, going into his usual protection mode, as they approach my car so I quickly get out and walk over to them.

“Hi, ma’am what are we up to?”

“I was just walking my dog.”

“Okay, do you have your license on you?”

“No, I left my wallet at home. I live around the corner I just come here to walk him because he doesn’t get along with other people or dogs. As you can tell.”

“Well, we got an alert that someone was trying to break into the church.”

“Well, it wasn’t me” I start to scroll through my phone to find a picture of my ID to show him. I can tell my tone of voice has attitude, but I can’t help it.

“I am obviously walking my dog,” I say showing him my phone.

“I don’t know that” He replies, “Did you see anyone else here?”

“No, I didn’t, this is ridiculous.”

He says he remembers me from a few months ago. When I backed up into someone leaving the grocery store parking lot. That was my first accident, mind you, I have a backup camera. So I was very upset then, and feel just as upset now. I was just wanting to quickly walk my dog and then leave to go meet this man.

Finally, he lets me leave possibly out of annoyance at my dog’s loud barking that causes a ringing in your ears. And I wonder, maybe this is a sign I shouldn’t go to the man, Chef Shane’s house. But I am always unsure if it’s my gut being right or my anxiety thats telling me not to do something.

I met Shane at my current restaurant job I work at. I started two months ago after a sudden layoff from my first big kid marketing job. This summer has been the worst summer of my life. I had to go back to being a host because I just needed to get a job quickly. After months of being unemployed, $15 an hour sounded great.

It has been far from great. The restaurant is too fancy, I don’t get free food, my manager has a huge ego, the hours suck, it’s not enough money, I have to work doubles and I can’t even wear jeans.

When I first started Chef Shane immediately caught my eye. Tatted, long eyelashes, dreads. Plus, due to the sex appeal of Jeremy Allen White, from The Bear, I am very into the fact I have to answer to this man, as “Yes Chef.”

He would compliment me sometimes but for the most part, we barely talked. It’s hard to get to know someone at a high-class dining demanding restaurant. I do know we both have hummingbird tattoos on our backs. And that he loves his mom a lot since she comes in sometimes and I see how he embraces her.

I also know that he has previously hooked up with a waitress who worked here. That information was provided by me asking one of my favorite bartenders.

I never thought we would hang out, well that was until I broke up with my boyfriend.

I felt guilty when we were dating about having a crush on Chef Shane, so much so that I even told my (now ex) boyfriend about it. I didn’t want to tell him but he always asked me about my dreams. One day I admitted to having a romantic dream about Shane. Safe to say the boyfriend was not very pleased. But now that we are broken up and I plan to quit the host job soon, I took action into my own hands.

Yesterday, I bravely put my number on his car door. It felt like I had to, it’s now or never. I wrote to him to text me to hang out. I need to see if all the times I felt flustered around him mean anything. He immediately texted to make plans. Said he is so glad I gave him my number because he always caught himself staring at me. So much so that other staff made fun of him for it.

I suggested last night we go do something, have a picnic or something today. You know something that doesn’t scream I will hook up with you on the first date, which I have definitely never done. No matter what they say, they are all liars.

Shane told me it’s his one day off and doesn’t feel like leaving the house. This is not ideal, but I feel confident that we have chemistry and I need to know for sure. Since I don’t have much of a choice besides waiting until next week, I settle for our current plan of smoking and him making me food.

As I pull back in my driveway I quickly text Shane that I am running late because the cop pulled up on me. I rush to put Sage in his crate, I feel the anxiety bouncing around my stomach. It bubbles enough that I have to run to the bathroom.

I spray perfume on my neck and walk back out the back door.

At 3:43 pm I text Shane here and apply some honey chapstick.

I then text my group chat with my friends that if they don’t hear an update from me in a few hours I’m in danger.

I tell myself, I can leave whenever I want. I do not have to stay if I am not having fun. A concept I only realized recently, after too many times of me staying at places I did not want to be. I do not want to hook up with this man I just want to get to know him.

Shane opens the door with a cat in his arms, “Hi beautiful!”

“Why hello, nice place you have,” I look around at a few large grandpa chairs in the living room. Two grey cats scurry around my feet and follow us to the kitchen.

Shane then hugs me tightly, I hug him back and as I start to pull away he pulls me back in. “I have wanted to be close to for you so long” he whispers.

“Aww,” I reply, awkwardly removing myself from the hug again. Thats the first time we have hugged. I am not feeling any spark from that hug, very disappointing.

“Sorry if your eyes are burning I just put in a bunch of this spice” he holds up some sort of spice I have never seen before.

My eyes are in fact burning, I squeeze them tight, “What are you making?”

“Nothing fancy just some Indian style chicken and rice. Do you want to drink?”

No, I don’t its not even 5 pm, “Um sure” I say anyway.

I scan his kitchen, it’s small but big enough. There is stuff that is all over the counter. Dirty dishes overflow the sink. His shirt has either fuzz or cat fur all over it. I can’t tell but it looks like he just woke up and also that he didn’t take the extra time to clean up at all.

He pours me and himself some wine into a jar-looking container.

My eyes still are stinging as he starts to tell me about how he can’t open the windows because his cat keeps trying to escape. There is weed scattered on the counter, and he starts to roll up a blunt. The kitchen smells of so many mixtures, none of which I am enjoying. And I wish he would just open the window anyway.

The chicken is sitting on the stove in a large pot with some sort of sauce. Steam is floating up in the air around the lid like a ghost.

I take a small sip of my wine and hate it. A sharp burn hits my throat and then a wave of citrus. I remember I had barely eaten today after sleeping in until 1 pm. And I know myself better than to drink this full glass. Drinking often makes me too reckless.

“I am so happy you’re here,” Shane says coming over to my side of the kitchen counter and putting his hands around my waist. “Let me show you around.”

He has the blunt behind his ear as he walks me back into the living room. On the wall, there are huge white canvases with brown smudge all over them.

“This is my art - I am the only person who is making art with food.”

“Really?” I pretend I don’t already know of this through Instagram stalking. He creates abstract art through rubbing food all over a canvas. He has had a few shows in the local art scene. I don’t understand the appeal but art is art.

“See this one, that’s my favorite” Shane points to the one with a hole in the middle.

“I don’t even know what came over me that day but I just was overcome with emotions and punched a hole in the canvas.”

“Incredible,” I say and look around to see the only art on his walls is his own.

Why am I always attracted to narcissists?

He goes on bragging about himself and tells me that he almost went to New York to do a huge show but it fell through. But he has big plans for his art in the future.

Shane then leads me up the stairs to his loft, where there’s an L-shaped leather couch.

“We can smoke up here and watch something?”

“Sure! What do you want to watch?” I sit a bit away from him.

He ignores me or doesn’t hear me and sparks the blunt. Hits it once and then coughs, hits it again, and passes it over to me.

“I don’t really smoke much these days,” he tells me.

“Oh okay, no worries, I can smoke most of this then,” I say kinda joking, kinda not.

He gets out the remote and starts to scroll shows, “Come cuddle, don’t be shy.”

“Sorry if I am being weird…you make me nervous,” I say lying, the truth is I regret coming over and am confused as to why the attraction has disappeared upon arrival.

Was he only sexy to me when he was in his white chef coat or am I just feeling asexual today?

My head is leaning on his chest as we pass the blunt back and forth. He continues to scroll through the movie section and then just stops.

I watch him stand up and turn the lights off.

Why won’t he put on some music or something?

It’s so dark I can only see the orange end of the blunt glowing in my fingers.

I inhale the smoke deeply hoping the dopamine hits me hard enough that I can pretend I am having a nice time.

Shane sits back down, puts his arm around me, and gives me that look. He is about to go in for the kiss, and I am processing too slowly to know if I want to deny him.

He has his hands behind my neck and pulls me in. It’s nice, his lips are soft and full but then I feel something inside my mouth. What the fuck is that? Metal scrapes the top of my mouth, and then it hits me, he has his tongue pierced.

His tongue starts doing flips in my mouth, then stabbing motions, it hurts the roof of my mouth and I pull away. My hands on his chest, leaning myself back.

“God you’re such a good kisser,” Shane says

“Thanks um can you not do that with your tongue?”

“You didn’t like it?”

“No, I don’t really like a lot of tongue.”

“Yeah, I got you.” He leans back in, to start to kiss me again.

Does he really deserve another chance?

To my surprise I start to enjoy it, so I kiss him back. The kisses get more passionate as he lifts my thigh up over his. Then, oh what’s that?

His tongue and tongue ring are back in my mouth stabbing me.

I pull away again, this time pulling my whole body back.

“Sorry, I just said I don’t like tongue.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he giggles.

I blink at Shane slowly, Is he being serious? Did he not hear me? Am I in danger?

I already feel violated. He smirks up at me, maybe he thinks that this is some sort of dominating sexy thing to say. Or maybe I didn’t say it seriously enough?

“I love to use my tongue, I am a giver you know.”

Ew no thanks “Yeah I don’t think this is —I didn’t like that.”

He mumbles something I don’t understand, I sit in silence, and then finally I remember he had his chicken cooking on the stove.

“Should we go check on that food you made?”

“Oh, yeah sure” He replies adjusting his basketball shorts.

I get up and walk quickly down the stairs. Shane follows and gets out some bowls from his shelves scooping up the rice and chicken. I try to think of something to break the tension in the air but I am speechless over how bad of a kiss that just was.

How do I nicely and calmly explain to him how annoyed I am?

“I have to say I am disappointed.”

“Oh wow, you wanna talk more about the kiss?” He replies taking a bite of his food.

I poke the chicken around, it doesn’t smell good, it’s a greyish white for some reason. Reminds me of toilet paper floating in a toilet and my appetite is gone.

“Yeah I mean I am just confused because I told you I really don’t like kisses with a lot of tongue and you didn’t listen. I also — I just didn’t feel a spark. We had so much build-up leading up to this. You know what we talked about on the phone last night about having a magnetic draw to each other? I don’t know, I am sorry. I can’t not say anything, I had high hopes,” I take a deep breath.

“I mean not everyone fucks with me, that’s fine.”

Is he hearing me? “Right yeah, I just thought we had more chemistry.”

“Well, we can just be friends and you can still hang out, enjoy your wine, and watch a movie. I have nothing else going on today and would love to have your energy around.”

I need to come up with an excuse to leave. Or I can wait and try to finish my food he kindly took the time to prepare it, then I can leave. Deal? No, I should just leave, but it feels rude. I can’t eat this. You need to get out of here. What if he stops me? Just leave, leave, leave.

“Yeah, I think I might just leave.”

“Really? I won’t kiss you again, I don’t want to kiss someone who isn’t into me”

I take a bite of my food, “Yeah I am sorry, I just don’t see this going anywhere.”

“Alright, if thats what you want,” he shrugs half way done with his bowl.

Before I am even aware of what I am doing, I have my purse on my shoulders and I start walking out the door. “Sorry, thanks for cooking.”

I practically am sprinting back to my car. As I open the door I look at the time, 4:49 pm. I can’t believe only an hour has passed. I feel like the sun should have gone down but it’s bright in my eyes. I text my group chat as I turn out of the neighborhood.

“That was horrible, I am already headed home”

I am not even playing music as I drive because I am in too much shock of what just happened. I run my tongue over the roof of my mouth it feels tender to the touch.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” replays in my head.

Flashes of men’s faces start to play in my mind, other men who I let have me who I didn’t want. I shake my head and feel the water in my eyes.

I am trying my best not to speed as I make my way on the highway back home. My toothbrush needs to be brushing my tongue, as soon as possible.

I tell my friends in a voice memo that this could have been much worse, and it wasn’t, because I left. I got myself the fuck out of there. And I am overwhelmed with a sense of pride for myself. The version of me a few years ago I know would have stayed.

I start to think of all the times I hoped Shane would come up and talk to me at work. How I would fantasize about us kissing in the beer closet, him pushing me against the door, it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Never would I have imagined he was a tongue-loving, ring stabber.

I put my hand out the window as I hit a red light. Allowing the wind to run through my fingertips. I don’t understand how I could have been so wrong.

Maybe this is karma for breaking someone else’s heart? I didn’t dump my ex for this guy but I can’t lie that it was in the back of my mind as a possible fun rebound. I felt so certain after months of sexual tension and eye contact. I thought he was going to be more interesting, and more fun. Ask me more questions, and show any other interest in me than sexually. But he had one thing on his agenda, per usual.

I should have known when the cop pulled up that it was the universe warning me.

Next time, I will trust my gut. Next time, I won’t ignore the signs telling me not to go.

Once I get home, I pull up my rose gold MacBook, open Gmail, and email my managers. My fingers can’t type quickly enough as I write out my two week notice. I think I can handle two more weeks of working with him if I know after that I won’t ever go back to that restaurant again. My phone dings and I see a text from Shane.

I laugh as I read the text. Is he drunk? I reread it a few times, I am just so confused.

I truly don’t think this man realizes how upset his not listening to me made me. He did it on purpose. He said I can’t control him. I can’t tell him not to do something even if I don’t like it. It’s not about not having chemistry. It’s about not respecting me.

It’s a shame how common of a thing it is that men don’t understand the harm they can cause. Just with their lack of ability to communicate properly during sexual acts. If someone says not to do something, you listen. If you want to try something more intense sexually, you should get consent first. It’s not that hard to avoid harm.

“Sage come here,” I say patting the couch, he looks up at me and wags his tall coming to lay beside me. I look down at him smiling, “You’re the only man who listens to me.”

To respect others' privacy, some names and details have been changed.