#4

Meet Roid:

roid-revised  

   Name: Roid
   Age: 1978
   Height: 6’3
   Body Type: Juiced n’ jacked
   Occupation: Bouncer / personal trainer
   First Outfit: Jeans, t-shirt, hoodie
   Fun Fact: Has both nips and bellybutton pierced (lol).

 

I have a disclaimer on my POF profile that states:

“I prefer my gentleman suitor to be wearing a shirt in his profile picture.  A plain, un-sparkily, non-seizure-inducing-and-MMA-affiliated shirt.”

Roid happened to be an exception to this rule, since four of his five pictures featured him lacking a shirt.

Roid was originally from Ontario and was working in Whistler as a bouncer and snowboard instructor.  One night he was stranded at YVR having missed his flight back east and called me up to be entertained until his next one.  Things were great when we got together, until he got on his phone, and proceeded to schedule other girls to meet him at the airport after my shift with him had ended.  We went for beer and nachos and as he slammed one pint and summoned for a second, I foolishly inquired how he missed his flight.

His eyes darkened as he dove into the story.  He had gone to his work’s Christmas party the night before and his female “room-mate” had been continually drunk-dialing him, demanding him to come home.  After a brief screaming match and a $30 cab, he arrived to find his suitcase sprawled on the front lawn.

A vein in Roid’s forehead pulsated with every sentence as he continued on.  I don’t know if I was more amused or scared by his growing inferno.

Long story short, he told me he had smashed one of the windows, said room-mate called the cops, they took turns throwing each other’s things out of the house and lo and behold!–

He was slapped with breaking and entering and assault charges!

“I probably shouldn’t be leaving the province,” he added thoughtfully, non-chalant. “But I have some charges in Ontario that I gotta sort out too.”

Oh! …That’s cool, bro!

I excused myself and secretly called a friend to pass on his contact information, should I go missing as he settled the bill.  While I promptly returned him to the airport, he busily scheduled his next encounter.  I politely patted him on the shoulder to wish him luck in his future endeavors when he turned sharply, pinned me and planted a (sick) wet kiss on my mouth.  I booted him out of the Raidermobile, zipped home to scrub my face with bleach.

Needless to say, he got the ol’ Block + Delete on every platform!

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