The Letterbox Lover

I'm still not entirely sure if I've gotten over the trauma of this, but I will do my best to explain how it went down.

Okay, so when I moved to the GC at the beginning of the year, my 'best friend'
(I use the term loosely when talking about this guy, because she actually dated him herself and shows absolutely no remorse for hooking the two of us up. I think it's because she hates me, but that's another story entirely) offered to set me up with a guy friend of hers because she thought we'd get along really well. I was in the market for some new guy friends and apparently he was keen to show me around.
So we exchanged email addresses etc and got to chatting on msn.
After about 2 months of some really great chatty chats online, we decided to meet up and
have coffee. He kept saying 'next weekend, babe' blah blah. Whatever, totally not into me, but that's fine. I was a bit miffed really, because we got along really well and I thought we'd be mates. Anyway, one night, while riding home from the pub on his pushie, he decides it's definitely the time to meet. 100%. Can't change his mind, is on the way to my house right now ('where do you live, exactly?!').
It was midnight, I just got home from a night shift and I really couldn't be arsed, but I figured, why the hell not ?! Because I didn't care too much, I just rolled out of bed, put on a singlet and some ripped of levis that my arse hangs out of and went out the front to meet him. That is me not caring, and I thought that was the best way to meet somebody who obviously wasn't into me and who I obviously wasn't into (If I was interested there is no way in hell that I would have worn pants that make my thighs look like that).
I said we had to sit on my letterbox because my housemate was asleep and he said ooooooookay. Anyway, I'm just chitty chatting as I do, asking him about work and discussing with him the upcoming Krudd stimulus payments and how I planned on stimulating the economy. I was in the middle of talking about how I should pay off my credit cards, but in all reality was going to end up buying new shoes when he started rubbing my shoulders. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeird. I was like, okay, and kept talking because when I'm uncomfortable I chat....and getting a massage from a person who I only met like 5 minutes ago totally makes me uncomfortable. Anyway, I'm still talking about shoes when he turns my head around and attempts to pash me in a Mills and Boon like fashion. My body was facing one way and my head the other, so it wasn't exactly the most passionate position. The next part prompted me to invent the term 'face rape'. It's a bit hard to object to something when somebody has their entire tongue down your throat and is somehow managing to cover the rest of your head, neck and torso with saliva. As quickly as the pash attack began, it stopped. And normal conversation continued....for another 30 seconds at least anyway. Then it was on for young and old, and everybody, apparently, except me. It wasn't doing anything for me, but I couldn't SAY anything, or even back away (because I was perched on my letterbox!). I started compiling a shopping list in my head. I started wondering where that coral headscarf I once had got to. I wondered what time I could get in to the nail lady the next day. This was possibly the worst pash of my life. I didn't think it got much worse than the first and last kiss I had with a boyfriend in year 11 who slobbered into my mouth in such a horrid fashion that I backed away from him and fell into a bin in front of the entire junior school. Bad. Very bad. The worst part was that he left me there with my arse in the bin and didn't help me up. Ha ! Worse than that. IMAGINE ?!
I was pretty stunned for most of this entire ordeal....and when he came up for air I managed to say 'What the HELL was that ?! Was I not just talking about stimulating the economy?!' which he answered with another full on pashola which was a scary mix of intense sucking, licking, slobbering, and normal kissing.
Anyway, the kissing continued for quite some time, and I must say I wasn't so much kissing back as trying to remove his tongue from my mouth with my own tongue.... Then it started getting a little more than PG 13. On my letterbox ! At midnight ! Directly under the street light. Now is NOT the time to try and get the girls out, buddy !! The neighbours ! OH GOD, THE NEIGHBOURS! When I thought it couldn't get any worse, he started to dry hump, I repeat: dry hump my leg. MY LEG ! On my letterbox! At midnight !!! Under the street light !
Oh well this was all a bit too much for me. After he panted 'can I come in, babe' I thought it best to take his pashing as a sign that baby making was out of the question, and thanked myself for being a lazy hoe and not cleaning my room for months. I made my excuses....and off he rode on his pushbike. Random. Never to be repeated. Ever.