Houston, we have a problem!

So I met this guy while I was driving home a couple of weeks ago. I was literally in my car, driving. I was in the far left hand lane and I needed to get over two lanes because my turn was coming up on the right hand side. I put my blinker on like the responsible driver that I am and I sped up to cut off the car next to me. Said car, a very nice Range Rover, sped up as well so I slowed down to get behind him. He slowed down as well; I looked over to see what this asshole looked like and the guy was waving at me and telling me to lower my window. I started laughing because I thought he was awkward. We ended up coming to a red light and I finally rolled down my window to see what the hell he wanted. He thought I was pretty and I made him work so hard to get my attention; he felt that I should have at least given him my name. He seemed nice so I gave him my number too. What the hell was I thinking?!? I think that was the problem, I just wasn't thinking. We made plans to get coffee the next day. 

 He was 45 minutes late for our coffee date.I was patient and I waited, it was a nice day so I sat outside and read while I waited for him. Mistake, I should have just left. He's Lebanese and "fresh off the boat", his words not mine. He's been in the US since he was 15, mind you, and he's 27 now. He was funny and he kinda reminded me of Ali G with some of his mannerisms...he's extremely Arab. Now don't get me wrong,I'm totally ok with that. In Lebanon, Arabic and French are the national languages of the country. I speak French, he doesn't. I find that very strange for someone that spent all of their formative years in a French-speaking Arab country. He did tell me that he spoke the language but every time I tried to have a conversation with him in French, he would respond in English.I thought that was weird. He was nicely dressed (True Religion jean, Prada loafers, a Faconnable button down, Gucci sunglasses) and I was wearing yoga pants and a hoodie because I really didn't feel like getting dressed that morning. We talked about what I did for a living and what he did as well. He has his own shipping company. He owns a shipping company. That explains his wardrobe. He kept looking at his watch, he said that it had stopped and it was really bothering him. I looked at it and wasn't the least bit surprised to see that he was wearing a Rolex. My dad has one so I know how much they cost. Anyone with good credit and enough money to make the car payments can buy a Range Rover but not anybody can just walk into the store and drop 8 grand on a Rolex. He was talking about how he used to buy Benzs (plural, as in he had several at once) from the dealership across from the restaurant where I used to work. I wasn't sure if this guy was telling the truth or just bullshitting me but I definitely called a friend that works at the dealership once I got home. This guy really is who he says he is. 

 We went out a few days later and that's when things started going rapidly downhill. We had plans to do dinner and a movie; I didn't want him picking me up at my house (safety reasons) so I met him at the movie theater and he drove us to the restaurant. I have never feared for my life when I've been in the car while someone else is driving. I swear on all that is holy, this guy is the craziest driver I have ever seen. He pays no attention to the lane markings on the highway, he completely disregards the speed limit, and when taking the exit ramp on the highway, his brakes are completely irrelevant. I came quite close to kissing the ground when he parked the car and I got out. He took me to the soft opening of a restaurant. It was such a cute place, I really liked the atmosphere. We sat at the bar and things were fine until he felt that the bartender was hitting on me; said bartender is gay. The guy I was with then took it upon himself to invade my personal space and let the entire world know that we were there together. I asked him nicely to stop touching me, he complied...until we went to the movies. While still at the restaurant, I was talking about how I was going to the Bahamas this summer with my boys. He was shocked that I had the audacity to make such plans and voiced his dislike for me going somewhere with guys. I tried not to laugh in his face. Keep in mind that we're essentially on our second date. The bartender heard the conversation and tried to suppress his laughter as well. In an effort to change the subject, I asked the guy I was with how he got invited to the restaurant before it even opened. He said that he had a Centurion card. For those of you that aren't familiar with it, it's also called the Black card. It's for big-baller-shot-caller Amex customers. It was at that point that I should have gotten up and left because I knew no good come out of the rest of the evening. 

We went to the movie theater to buy the tickets and we had a lot of time before the movie actually started so we walked around. We walked passed a store window and I stopped to look at a bikini that I liked. He told me that I would look amazing in it and I could be his own personal Halle Berry. Excuse me? No, I will not be your own personal anything. He went to Starbucks to sit for a little bit. He tried to sit in the same armchair as I did. I hate that more than anything; unless you are my boyfriend or my mother (neither of which you are), I will not share a seat with you. It's not that I dislike sharing or whatever, I just don't like unnecessary touching. He asked me if I had any tattoos. I have two, one behind my ear and one on my hip. The second can only be seen if I'm in a bikini, I'm naked or I'm getting undressed. He insisted that I show it to him, in public. I refused and said that he would be lucky if he got far enough to actually see me in one of those various states of dress/undress. He then told me that he didn't approve of girls with tattoos and suggested that I get them removed. Really?! My tattoos are permanent and if you have a problem with them, then you have a problem with me. I should have left at that point because he was starting to get crazy . For some reason, I stayed. We went to the movie and the minute the lights went out, he turned into a horny 15 year old boy. He kept trying to get his hand close enough to stroke my girlie parts, through my jeans. I kept pushing his hand away and finally I sunk my nails into him because he just wasn't getting the message. During the entire movie, he kept muzzling my cheek and trying to kiss me. I should have left, but I didn't. 

After the movie, he drives me back to my car. As my hand is on the door handle, I turn and say thank you for the nice evening, I will see you soon. Before I could finish my sentence, he grabs my face and MAULS me. I have never been mauled in my life; it was probably the most awkward and uncomfortable thing I have ever gone through. I elbowed him in the throat to extricate myself from his wandering hands. He wasn't pleased with that, I didn't give a fuck. We were on our second date. I wasn't quite sure what kind of girl he thought I was, but I sure as hell wasn't planning on sleeping with him. It was 1230 at night at this point, I was tired and I wanted to go home so I got out of his car and got in mine. He walked around to the driver's side and begged me to come home with him. I laughed in his face and told him to go hang out with his friends. He said that he'd much rather hang out with his GIRLFRIEND (meaning me!) than his friends. Again, we were on our second date. At this point, I was convinced that he was crazy. I told him that I had homework to do the next day and that I was going home. He grabbed my hand and in all seriousness said "You should think about quitting school. You're a beautiful woman, you shouldn't have to worry about getting an education because I will take of you and the children, once that happens". I seriously laughed in his face and then I drove away. This man has lost his man. 

He is very Arab and old-fashioned. He believes that women are meant to be home-makers, but he adds his own Muslim twist to that. Culturally, that's fine because I wouldn't dare mock anyone's beliefs. But when you start to impose those beliefs on me (beliefs that I don't agree with), that's when there will be problems. I grew up in the States and my parents raised me to be inquisitive and opinionated. They also raised me to believe that I need an education and a degree; I agree with them. How am I going to get that job making 6 figures if I don't have a piece of paper that says I'm qualified? I've been working every day since I was 16, I have no intentions of quitting my job and sitting at home taking care of children all day. For other people, that's fine but not for me. I like making money because I'm greedy and I can never have too much of it. But I really don't care that this guy is filthy fucking rich, he is a crazy prick that I want nothing to do with. 

He will not stop calling me. I refuse to answer the phone or respond to his texts. He's left voicemails telling me how much he missed me and how he really wanted to see me. He even left me a booty call voicemail, saying that he was at home and that he was really hard and he wanted me to call him back so that he could give me directions to his house so that I could come over and ride his dick. I laughed really hard at that one. Imagine someone saying that with an Arab accent, then it becomes a lot funnier. He seriously won't stop calling though, I haven't returned any form of contact. He even went to the dealership to ask the guy that he buys cars from if he had my number. Randy didn't have my number and wasn't about to ask around to see if anybody did. Best believe that I got a phone call the next day from one of my boys that works there, letting me know that some crazy guy came in asking for my number so that he could verify it with the one he has. He is really starting to annoy me. I do not want to see him again, I don't want to talk to him again and I would really appreciate it if he would stop calling me altogether. I'm really glad that he has no idea where I live because he would probably sit outside my apartment and wait for me to come home. He's such a creeper. That's what I get for meeting a guy while driving home.