Erik and I had been seeing each other for about two months when some of our mutual friends invited us to a backyard barbecue. We all had a few drinks, but nothing went out of hand. Being a little tipsy (or drunk), we all found new, stupid ways to amuse ourselves.
There was a point where we were all sitting around a pit fire and I was telling a story about something that happened to me in high school, a bad date story, as a matter of fact. Those gathered listened and laughed at all the key moments, and when I finally finished the story, there was some good laughter all around.
Then, all at once, Erik, who had been sitting next to me, stood up and took my hand. I stood up with him. He said, "We'll be right back," and led me into the house.
I wasn't sure what he had planned, but I was intrigued, thinking that he was either going to tell me a secret or put the moves on me, neither of which would have been unwelcome.
Instead, he led me into the house's downstairs hallway, where they had a coat closet. He opened it up, nudged me inside, and still thinking that this was all an elaborate joke, I went in. He shut the door behind me and walked off.
Expecting I-don't-know-what, I waited in there for a few minutes before peeping my head out and leaving it. I looked around for him, called his name, and went back outside to find him sitting at the fire with our friends.
I went up to him and said, "Okay, what was that about?"
He stood up and led me inside again, this time upstairs to a bedroom. He walked into the bedroom's closet and pulled me in with him. I asked him, "What are you–?"
"Shh," he said, then stepped out of the closet and closed the door between us again. He walked away. I opened it and followed him.
Before he reached the stairs, I caught up and asked, "What's this all about?"
He said, "You have to stay in the closet. I'm finished playing with you, now. You have to go back in the closet with the clothes and shoes."
Through the haze, I was able to ask, "What the hell are you talking about?"
He sighed and explained, "A coat is to be worn on the body. Gloves on the hands. Women on the penis. I am through wearing you so you have to go in the closet!" He busted up laughing and slid down to the floor.
"Okay," I said, "I'm leaving."
He jolted to his feet and grabbed my arm. "Don't go!" he said, "Don't!" He yanked me toward him and I slapped his face. He released me and fell back as if I had hit him with a baseball bat. I ran downstairs, said a hasty goodbye to our friends, and left.
He didn't even call to apologize. Instead, he wrote me an email that read, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA." Good riddance.