I didn’t date until I was 17-years-old. Part of this stemmed from the Mormon culture in which I was raised – kids just weren’t allowed to date until they were 16-years-old. Another reason was that I was encased in a body cast for my entire sophomore year of high school, due to scoliosis and a back fusion. It’s hard to be romantic when getting cozy with a girl would be like cuddling up to a brick wall.
Once that cast came off, I had some making up to do (or making out to do – it was kind of the same in my case). One of the first boys I dated was El Guapo. I’ve talked about El Guapo before – he of the vertigo and weak stomach – but when I first met him, El Guapo showed no signs of these flaws. He was a Latin GOD, with dusky skin, silky ebony hair, and eyes the color of chocolate suede – and just as warm and soft. He swam competitively and his body was lean, yet muscular, with slim hips, expansive shoulders, and an abdomen like carved stone. I was also a swimmer – nowhere near his level, but we were on the same team and worked out daily – and that is how we met.
At first, my encounters with El Guapo were somewhat clandestine. We weren’t really dating – in the sense that we didn’t go out to dinner or movies. Instead, I would often visit El Guapo at the apartment he shared with roommates, where we would retreat to his bedroom for privacy. I found El Guapo to be incredibly sexy – his kisses sparked a flaming desire in my nether regions. But after the disaster of my first sexual encounter, I had decided that I should attempt to be more virtuous – to a certain degree. El Guapo managed to divest me of my clothing on several occasions, but seemed agreeable to not having actual sex. One day, while we were alone in the house, engaged in a sweaty, slippery, nearly naked, incredibly hot make out session, music suddenly started to play as if by magic. It turns out that one of his roommates had come home unexpectedly and unnoticed and had turned on the stereo. To this day, if I happen to hear “In the Heart of the Night” by Poco, my heart flutters just a bit.
I asked El Guapo if we were ever going to go out in public and he looked at me for a long while as he considered my request. He finally told me that he could only date a woman who could cook the Mexican food he loved – just like his mother. I confidently told him I could cook – to just give me a list of the foods he loved and I would make them! He smirked a little as he did so, telling me that no one cooked like his mama!
I could certainly cook – but the foods El Guapo wanted were things a white girl like me, growing up in a tiny Utah town, had never heard of, let alone knew how to cook. Homemade flour tortillas? Refried beans? I made a trip to the library to look through the cookbooks there – but left discouraged – no closer to my goal. One day, I expressed my frustration to El Guapo’s sister – who was also on the swim team. She laughed and told me to quit worrying, as she had the perfect plan – she invited me to her house that weekend to cook with her and her mother – I would get a hands-on lesson in cooking El Guapo’s favorite foods – from his dear, sweet mama!
The cooking lesson went well – and El Guapo’s mother sent me home with freshly made tortillas, refried beans, and step by step instructions for the other foods he had requested. The next night, El Guapo came to my house, was introduced to my parents (who then retreated to their bedroom) and was seated at the table. I served him each item on the list with a flourish and he ate with gusto, obviously enjoying all of the dishes. When he finished, I asked him how everything had tasted – how did my cooking rate when compared to his mother? He again smirked (why did I not notice these red flags? I can only blame El Guapo’s drop dead gorgeousness and my pitiful need to please). He then told me that, while the food had been acceptable – it was not nearly as good as his mama’s cooking. I burst out laughing, which confused El Guapo – until I informed him that most of the food he had just eaten WAS his mama’s cooking!
El Guapo did deign to date me in public a few times after that – until I decided that he was not the man of my dreams after the unfortunate amusement park incident. Still…he was so hot! Six months later when he invited me to his house for dinner, I was foolish enough to accept. He drank a lot that evening and after dinner, predictably, we ended up on the couch, attempting to lick each other’s tonsils. However, this time, when he moved to remove my shirt, I demurred, gently reminding him that I wasn’t ready to sleep with him. El Guapo did not respond and merely changed his focus from my shirt to my skirt, lifting it and tugging at my panties. I again protested, this time a bit more vigorously and I attempted to sit up. El Guapo pushed me back down and grabbed both of my wrists with one hand, holding them immobile near my head as he used his other hand to pull at my panties until they ripped along one seam. By this time, I was starting to freak out – I struggled to get lose and kept telling El Guapo to stop and let me up – but he kept on, unfastening his pants and pushing them down. I remember that I started to shake uncontrollably – I couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. I started to cry, begging El Guapo to stop, to please let me go. He never acknowledged me, but he laid his head on my chest instead of going further. I didn’t dare move, afraid that it would set him off again. After what seemed like forever, I heard El Guapo snore and realized that the many beers he had consumed had finally caught up with him. I slowly pulled myself out from under his body, taking care not to wiggle too much, although I still could not stop my trembling.
I never saw El Guapo again – although I heard about him. Apparently, one day, being short of money, El Guapo took a large kitchen knife, walked around the corner and robbed the neighborhood convenience store. As he had been in the convenience store a million times before, the owner had no trouble identifying him and sending the police to his house – where they found him at the kitchen table, counting the money. He spent the next several years with free room and board, courtesy of the state of Utah.
Have you ever been blinded by someone’s looks to the point where you don’t see what a jerk they really are? Have you ignored your better instincts and ended up in a scary situation?