This is a contribution from a lady named Debbie Jarrell, who found my blog and wanted to add this tale. It's a great story. Thanks Debbie!
When I was in my early 20's I was fixed up with a guy I'll call Drew. He was an average looking guy, was employed, and fairly intelligent, although there was something about him that was just not right. Something I couldn't define, but it was there.
So we had gone out a few times, and one day he called me to see if I wanted to go for a motorcycle ride. Well, I secretly imagine myself as a biker babe, so I agreed. He picked me up on his bike, and off we went. We rode for quite a while, then he pulled off the highway, down roads that became progressively smaller. Finally we came to a dead end, at a trash dump. He shut off the bike, we got off, then he pulled a pistol out of a storage compartment on the back of the bike. My heart leaped into my throat. I'm thinking this is where I'm going to die. Did I tell anyone where I was going? Who I would be with?? Noooo...
Then, Drew informed me that he had brought me to this dump to shoot at rats. Huh? Say that again? My relief at finding out I was not going to be murdered was quickly replaced by revulsion. Did he REALLY think I would participate in rat-shooting? What a sweet guy!! How did he know that nothing turns me on more than the sight of bloodied rat bodies?
Well, I'm a good sport, but I refuse to shoot at anything alive. So to compromise, we set up a line of beer bottles, and I'm happy to report that I kicked his butt that day.
And as a side note, we broke up soon after, due to a sexual experience that proved to be less than satisfying for both of us. Not long after that, one of my best friends met him, and they've been married for over 27 years. He's still a jerk, which she freely admits.
