Thursday, my Aunt Mabel and Uncle John came to stay with us, with their son. That was cool, I took my cousin to the beach, we got some sun, it was great. Friday, I found out that one of my favorite cousins needed me at his wedding. His wedding on SATURDAY night. Who tells someone that they're invited to a wedding the day before the event? That's crazy talk.

Thus, I embarked on the task of finding a date for the big event. Because really, one just can't go to a wedding alone! So after much deliberation, I decided on the short Islander. He was all excited, and he asked me to go to Street Scene with him. Rock on, I was psyched! So I pick him up, and he's Mr. Touchy-Feely as usual, but nothing more than I've dealt with before. We get to the venue and he introduces me to a couple of his friends. At which point, he grabs my ass and grinds his crotch into my hip. I playfully shoved him off of me, laughed it off. Alright, so he's a bit MORE hands on than I realized, but no worries. Shortly after we got in, he cops a feel, under my shirt. I tell him to knock it off, and he backs off for a bit. He wanders off to buy refreshment of the liquid nature, and when he comes back, he gooses me. IN THE FRONT. Yeah, no typo there. A nice, friendly pinch to my panty-clad outer labia. Indeed. I slap him, bitch him out, and storm off.

He follows me, talks me down from being pissed off [don't ask me how, he'll make a brilliant lawyer one day], and we head off to one of the stages. While walking, he flips up my skirt.

What the hell? Are you fucking serious? Who does that? I ditch him, but he follows me, bitching me out the whole time, so I leave. The entire venue. Which pissed me off because I wanted to stay, but didn't want to be hassled. But then again, I was his ride, so that was something.

He proceeds to send me pissed off text messages, telling me that he wants to be paid back for his ticket, and not in cash. He tells me that I was freaking out for no reason, that how he was acting and what he was doing was normal flirting and that I just wasn't used to it because I only hung out with "goddamn little emo freaks." He eventually degenerated into calling me a crazy bitch, a moniker I heard far too much from a certain ex-roomie to tolerate.

Needless to say, I'm going to the wedding tonight with the ballet dancer.

Seriously though, who does that kind of thing and expect to score anything other than a swift kick to the groin?