FAKE FBI GUY: part 2

I finally met Fake FBI Guy...

And he's REALLY GOOD LOOKING...

I was totally done with him when he stood me up for our Sunday meeting. Yes, I was mad even though I already knew he was a Fake FBI Guy and would probably have chopped me up and tossed in into the river after raping and torturing me for hours on end. But I like to live on the wild side.

>Actually, I'm obsessed with studying people and their behaviors, their habits, their way of talking, thinking, listening. When I go places, I'm constantly observing people. I love it. I make mental notes about what people do, wear, say, how they walk, talk. So I set out to start a social experiment of my own. And Fake FBI Guy was my test subject.>

So, I was bored and decided to have some fun somewhere around Tuesday. I text him something like

*You're no fun...I can't play with you.

**Why do you say that?

*Because when you respond to a text, you just aren't as fun and playful as you were before you stood me up for our Sunday meeting.

I guess it got his curiosity going. He probably thought, here was this woman that he stood up, yet she's still trying to have a conversation...she must be desperate!

No, just bored and easily amused and enjoying the ability to observe the habits of men with open eyes and open minds and absorb everything she can take in.

Anyways. We chatted almost non stop for the next two days. Thursday rolled around. He mentioned meeting me after work. I was like "What the hell, might as well...I've got to meet this man in person."

He changed the location about three times, which was whatever. I asked if he was allowed to meet and have drinks after work. He said it's not necessarily condoned but it's something he can get away with doing. I asked if he would be wearing his gun and badge. He said no, that he tries to leave them put away when he goes out in public, just to keep from having eyes on him.

So I got to the restaurant first. And I sat there. And I wasn't really sure what to do. I was actually really, really, REALLY nervous. Not that I was worried about getting gagged and stuffed in the trunk of his car. I just realized that I was meeting a man in public for a date-like setting and I was not at all OK with this. I mean, I was sick to my stomach. I don't date. I don't meet men. I might chat or exchange texts, but that's it. I don't do this. What the fuck was I thinking?

And I had already figured out that he isn't the most forthcoming and honest person, because of how inconsistent not only his words are but also his actions. I just wanted to take advantage of it and have a little fun and put myself out there. Honestly, what better way to practice meeting people than by doing so with someone that you don't have to worry about hurting you because you already know what type of person he is? Yeah, I realize how fucked up that sounds. Anyway, again. I got there and texted my girlfriend Vivian Leigh while I waited on him. I sent her very inappropriate memes about me being nervous and wanting to leave. She worked to calm my nerves and reassure me that I'm awesome and beautiful and kick ass. And then he walked in.

Jesus, fucking Christ! He is so good looking!

Have I mentioned that?

Yeah, he was really good looking. I'm so confused.

And why is this man on Tinder? I mean, obviously he's got some need for attention and scamming women if he's on Tinder telling people he's an FBI agent. But he's good looking. He should have no problem finding a woman to take advantage of.

He was wearing a suit. He had a shaved head. A beard. But not the really long mountain man redneck looking ones. His was sexy. He looked just rough enough to smack me on my ass and make me call him daddy. And that's all I needed to know.

I wasn't at all uncomfortable though. That's what's even crazier. I'm SO extremely introverted (which he said he doesn't' believe). I LOATHE meeting people. I hate the first-date feel. That first-date fakeness that people try to lay on thicker than syrup on a flapjack. But when I met Fake FBI Guy, I was just so at ease and I immediately felt like I had known him for years.

We chatted about SO MANY THINGS. He had a lot of interesting things to say about the FBI. Like about how he works counter intelligence, and computer security (I don't know if I'm saying that right because honestly I was too busy trying to keep myself from drooling and I also wasn't wearing any panties so I was a little worried about the possibility of having an orgasm from visual stimulation and soaking the stool I was sitting on) and internet hacking type stuff. Now THAT is something that made me flinch a little bit, simply because, well, I won't get into that, but let's just say I don't know if he realizes how many different reasons he might have to handcuff me.

Through the drinks and the conversations, I was surprised when he started sharing some pretty deep and personal stories with me. He opened up about his marriage ending because he had a 4 year affair. He said a woman that he went to high school with reached out to him on Facebook, and disclosed that she always had a crush on him in school. He then went on to tell me that she was living in DC, and he was transferred there for work (because he's supposedly an FBI agent), and they had quite the lengthy affair that resulted in him seeing a sex therapist because it was a very deep and emotional relationship for him (but was strictly physical for her). He claimed that he's the only white guy in his sex therapy group, and that most of the men are actually men who have committed crimes or have sick twisted fantasies. He also talked about his estranged wife having lost a baby and how the procedure almost killed her (to which I unfortunately can sympathize with over and over and over), and drove a wedge between them. This was a contributing factor in the start of the affair. And he opened up about it all. He even said "I understand if you want to leave and not continue talking to me." He had a way of saying things that made you see him as someone who was alone and needed someone to turn to, even if it was just a friend to talk to. Not in a desperate way. He didn't seem like a loner, or a loser, or someone who was trying to pull a budjo over on someone. He seemed sincere, genuine, and kind.

And I was still drooling. I had forgotten that I was totally against liking this guy because he stood me up and because he was pretending to be an FBI agent. I was just so infatuated with his good looks and his way of talking to me, that I completely forgot that he was a douche canoe.

So yeah, I kept drinking and drooling. He later said he had to call his dad back, and stepped outside. He was out there for almost 30 minutes. Right at 27 I think. I was fixing to pay for my drinks and leave, debating with the guy next to me as to whether or not I should pay for his drinks as well and turn his Ray-Bans in to the bartender. I'm just that kind of person. I didn't want the bartender to get stuck having to fit the bill for someone that stiffed him, and I didn't want this guy's shades to get stolen. I assumed he got bored with me, or was uninterested, and bolted because he didn't know what to do. I have a problem with thinking about other people ahead of myself. Here I am worried about paying his tab and saving his sunglasses when I think he ran off from our date.

I'm such a dumb ass.

Anyway. He eventually came back in right as I was getting ready to pay my bill. He said he was actually on the phone with his "wife" and that she was chewing his ass about something to do with their son. I wasn't really sure whether to leave or crawl in a corner and hide at this point, because my jive was totally thrown off by him disappearing and leaving me hanging for almost 30 minutes, then returning to tell me he left our date to talk to his "wife" (referring to her as his estranged wife or ex wife or something else might have made it feel a little less awkward). So I downed my drink and said that I really enjoyed meeting him but that I probably should go because it was getting late. He said he didn't want to leave yet because he was enjoying talking to me and getting to know me - he was having a great time! He asked what else I would like to do. I said that I really didn't know what all there was to do, and that I probably should head home anyway. He asked that I come back to his place.

Fuck yes!

I mean, no!

I was still drooling but also still a little weirded out by him disappearing and then returning talking about his wife. Which he could have said out of habit. But I still felt awkward.

But he did his thing where he chats and chills you down and you feel comfortable and completely forget whatever the fuck it was that he just did or said that wasn't quite right, and you suddenly want him to take you into the corner and slam you up against the wall and fuck you right there in front of everyone. So I was like "Ok, sure, let's go..."

I WAS NOT having sex with him. I knew this ahead of time. So it wasn't like I went for that purpose. I mean, yes, I was pretty turned on. But I actually met him straight from work without even getting to freshen up (luckily I had toothpaste in my car before I met him). My legs weren't shaved. My cha cha was in desperate need of maintenance after sitting next to him for 3 hours wanting to jump on top of him. And I wasn't fixing to go down a road that I knew I shouldn't be going down.

Yet here I was. Following him to his house. A fake FBI agent that I had completely forgot had already stood me up, changed his stories, lied, and was now inviting me to his house because he wasn't ready for the night to end.

Have I mentioned how stupid I am?

But seriously, nothing happened. We talked. A lot. He asked lots of questions this time. We talked more about me. He wanted to know more. He seemed very interested in finding out that my mother left when I was younger. He was intrigued to learn that her family were gypsies. He said he was very familiar when I told him that they immigrated through France into the United States by way of Louisiana. He talked about his kid. His career as a police officer when he was younger. We actually had a great time. At some point, I was trying to pop my ankle when he grabbed my foot and pulled it up in his lap. Which kind of grossed me out because I had worn sandals that day, and I know my feet were dirty. I also hate people touching my feet. But, oh, my, sweet little baby Jesus! His hands. They were amazing. All I could think about was pakiv. I would have done anything he said at this point. I almost melted off the damn couch. I mean, he got to me. And I don't know how. By rubbing my feet? His hands were Godly though. I've never had someone touch me like that IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!

I knew right then that this man had done something to me. He's good. Man, he's really good. Any anyway. I told him about being through some personal things that left me with scars. I was actually being a smart ass in "opening up to him" because I was trying to remind myself that his man wasn't opening up to me because he felt that "connection" with me. He was trying to get laid. He was a master manipulator and he was doing what they all do. Playing the game. But he was so kind about it. He was so sweet and when I told him I was fixing to head home because it was getting late, he pulled me close and kissed me and said he wasn't ready for me to go.

We kissed a little. And a lot. And I wasn't sure at that point what to do because I actually found myself liking this guy that had convinced me he was an FBI agent by the end of the night. I felt he opened up to me for a reason. I felt he wanted my friendship. And I believed him when he walked me to my car and said he had a great time and couldn't wait to see me again.again.