An exboyfriend, some fake boobs and a stalker

There was something about Jason* that caught my eye the moment I saw him. I was working as the receptionist at the Jeep dealership, and he was a Jeep owner.

And when Jason’s ice-blue eyes looked into mine and he told me he was bartending at a restaurant in Fort Mill and that I should come see him, I immediately called my roommate to make plans.

My roommate and I showed up at that restaurant – and it turned out Jason and I had more in common than I initially thought. He went to the same college I did, and he was even a member of the fraternity whose house was across the street from my sorority house. And he would be attending the same Halloween party I would be attending later that evening.

This just happened to be the year of my Favorite Halloween Costume Ever. (Skin-colored body suit, big fake plastic boobs, red high heels and a trench coat – and I was a flasher!) And my roommates and I went to a few other parties before we got to the Kappa Sigma Party. In fact, Jason’s fraternity house was our last stop on the list of parties.

So, by the time we got there, I was no longer a “flasher” but more like a “drunk naked girl.” My boobs had been broken on the ice block earlier that evening at the Sigma Alpha Epsilon party (Not my fault – I’m not used to having big boobs!). My trench coat wasn’t being flashed open anymore, it was just hanging open. And my hair and makeup looked lovely, I am sure.

And Jason was newly off work and not nearly as un-sober as I. But no worries, he liked me anyway. Liked me so much that he invited me to a Panthers game the next morning. *Um, morning?* And I liked him so much that I agreed to it even at the ungodly hour of 9 a.m. When he called to wake up my hungover ass the next day, I cheerfully got up and got ready. Went tailgating with his friends, watched a football game (after he explained all the rules to me, naturally). He even got drunk this time, repaying the favor from the night before.

It was a match made for the history books. Or at least, for the semester.

Early on in our short relationship, he told me about this one girl that liked him, named Tricia. Tricia and Jason had made out once or twice before he met me, but that was the extent of it. And she liked him so much that she had started stalking him after the makeout sessions. She had gone as far as leaving a sex game on his car. He even showed me said sex game.

I did not know Tricia but I did know who she was – she was on newspaper staff at our college, and so was I. And for the next couple of years, every time I would see Tricia on campus, I would snicker interally – “that’s the girl that left the sex game on Jason’s car.”

After lots of fun times and some strange times and an incident involving a drunken Jason being dropped at my front door by a cab after a night at a strip club, our relationship faded into nonexistence. No hard feelings – I credit Jason for introducing me to IKEA, for being the first guy I dated with a “real” place of his own, and for helping me study for and pass my dreaded Media Law class.

He even went on to date one of my sorority sisters after that, which was only a little weird, and I dated one of his fraternity brothers, which was only a little more weird (apparently they had a confrontation over this. Oops.)

Fastforward a couple of years, and I started working at my first post-college job, at a local newspaper as a copy editor. And guess who one of my coworkers is? None other than Tricia, the – giggle – girl who left the sex game on Jason’s car.

Except, as time goes on, I get to know Tricia. And I realize that there is no freakin way this girl did this. She is as straight and narrow as they come. She’s probably never even seen a sex game. (Okay, I’m exaggerating a little. She’s no prude, just not the type that would stalk someone and leave intimate gifts on his car.)

A few years later, and Tricia and I are very close friends. I finally confide in her what Jason had told me years ago – and she very vocally confirmed my suspicians. She never did that. She did tell me that they’d kissed once or twice, and that it didn’t work out between them. But sex game? No sir.

We both found this incident hilarious. Wondered if he’d actually purchased the sex game himself? Or had someone else left it on his car and he just assumed it was Tricia? Funny stuff, Jason …

And crazily enough, the story doesn’t quite end there. At the newspaper where we worked, a lot of us that were about the same age ended up becoming friends, hanging out outside of work.

And I was with one of those friends, Sharon, having some drinks one night at T-Bones at the Lake, when we decided to start telling stories about our past. Sharon, who is a lesbian, decided to start the story session with a bang: “I have to tell you about the last guy I dated, the guy that turned me gay. His name is Jason …”

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*Names have been changed to protect the innocent … and the guilty …