Nope. Nope. Nope.
I was freshly dumped when I turned to dating apps. In the past, I’ve gotten depressed after breakups and closed off for long periods of time. I told myself I wouldn’t do that again, and forced myself to meet people.
I liked Bruce as soon as we began messaging because he was funny. When I asked if he has any pets, he said “Only bedbugs.” Haha.
He was also sweet, asking me what my favorite films are, then watching two of them the next day.
We had things in common—we both love sushi and horror movies—but were also different in an “opposites attract” type of way. I’m an introvert and cautious, but Bruce throws caution to the wind. Somehow, even though I’d never sang publicly in my life, he had me doing karaoke by the end of our first date.
Bruce drives a motorcycle, I ride a bike. Bruce plays drums in a punk band, I listen to folk rock at a low volume. Bruce spent the first five years of his twenties traveling the world on a sailboat, I’ve lived in the same 2-mile radius my entire life.
We went on a few dates before I went back to his place because I wanted to take it slow. Our first date started at a coffee shop (my idea) and, like I said, ended with midnight karaoke (his idea). Our second date involved a flash mob public art event (his idea). For our third date, we got tea (my idea), then went to a punk show in someone’s basement (his).
Bruce’s apartment wasn’t impressive, but it fit. He had movie posters on the walls. His drum set took up half of his living room. His bedroom was basically just a bed, a dresser, and stacks and stacks of DVDs. Everything looked clean though. I felt comfortable staying the night.
The next day, I felt itchy. Mostly on my arms, but also on the tops of my feet. I didn’t think much of it, but then the itching became more intense, and I noticed red bumps. While Bruce and I were texting, I mentioned that I might be developing a rash or having an allergic reaction.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “Those are the BBs.”
I asked him what “the BBs” are and he replied, “The bed bugs. I told you about them.”
My jaw dropped. “They’re real? & you call them BBs?” I texted.
He replied, “Yeah. BB = Bed Bugs & I can’t bring myself to kill them, so it’s a joke, like they’ve become my babies.”
The situation felt unreal. I knew Bruce was laid back, but this was a little too laid back. I read on WebMD that bed bug bites aren’t serious and go away on their own, but in the coming days, I kept getting them.
Apparently some of Bruce’s “BBs” had hitched a ride home to my apartment. I ended up spending hundreds of dollars getting rid of them, and had to let him go, too.
The Choice is Yours
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