The Burger Boy…

April 2014. It started out with me and my work buddies grabbing lunch at the burger joint down the street. None of us had been before. It’s a small diner-type place that was always busy. Their burgers and chicken fingers are pretty good, but their thick-cut fries are the fucking best. So, you order up, take your receipt and then when your number is called one of the guys down the line dresses your burger the way you like it. We started going there regularly. The owner and the employees were nice.

May 2014. During one visit, with my buddy Pedro, one of the guys behind the counter caught my eye. He wasn’t typically what I go for. I normally like men with dark hair and dark eyes. He had blue eyes and blonde hair, which was pulled back in a thick bun, and just a touch of blonde scruff. He had nice broad shoulders. As I stood in front of the counter waiting for my number to be called, I stealthily checked him out while Pedro and I talked. All of a sudden, he called my number. I felt like he was going to ask me to prom, but really, did I want pickles on the side? Anyway, he chatted me up while he dressed my burger. I probably looked like a school-girl talking to her crush…I’m such a loser.

Once we sat down to eat, I mentioned the hottie behind the counter. Pedro informed me that the Burger Boy was totally checking me out while we waited for our orders. Yup, I still had it. I was emotionally damaged, but at least I looked good. Pedro spent the remainder of our lunch hour trying to convince me to give Burger Boy my number over the counter. Fuck no, I said.

I went home and called Miss D to gush about him. She was excited about the situation and was dying to know what he looked like. She said that I had nothing to lose and I should go for it. I was skeptical but giddy. Doesn’t she surprise me a few days later at my work, with her sister, to go for lunch. These bitches just wanted to scope him out. I didn’t know if he was even working! Anyway, I obliged, and when we arrived, I immediately saw him behind the counter. We were the only customers there.

We caught each other’s eyes and both reacted with coy smiles. He was chatty and flirting with all three of us. Miss D is a huge fucking flirt to begin with, so she made it easy for us to interact with him. While we ate, he “cleaned” all of the tables around us, engaging in conversation. I checked him out at every angle as he bent over table tops to wipe them down. He had a nice build. He was thick. He had a nice ass. The girls agreed. I still couldn’t get up the courage to give him my number. Miss D didn’t give a shit. As she wrote my number on a sticky note and handed it to him over the counter, a wave of embarrassment came over me and I walked away. I felt like I was 15.  

He sent me a text within a couple of days. 

Our first date. He picked me up after his shift around 9:30pm in his black Mustang. It was fucking loud. I could hear it coming from the top of my street. We stayed local and went to this place by the lake called The Waterfront Bistro. It’s a nice spot; great in the summertime on the second-floor patio, overlooking the lake. We shared some appetizers and had a few beers. He wasn’t much of a talker, but I didn’t mind it at the time. I felt a bit awkward, but that was normal for me on a first outing with a guy. He was single, lived on his own, never been married and no kids. He was into nice cars and fast bikes. 

We didn’t sit for too long (it was actually kind of painful trying to carry on a conversation with him and he came across a bit arrogant). He paid the bill and we decided to take a stroll on the boardwalk. We smoked a joint and hopped on the swings in the deserted kids’ park. He was more talkative once he was high. We laughed and talked for a while and then he drove me home. He walked me to the door and asked if he could see me again soon. I was stoked. He kissed me and he was yummy. 

After that night, we saw each other a couple of days later. I went to his place. His basement apartment was nothing to write home about. It was relatively clean and tidy even with all of the car parts and tires laying around. His fridge literally had NOTHING in it, bare fucking bones. He said he always just ate out. He at least had a case of water on hand.

We smoked a couple of joints and watched a movie. We fooled around on the couch and he asked if I wanted to stay over. I knew what was going to happen. We were high and horny. We went to his bedroom where he lit a few candles and asked if I wanted a massage (um, yes please! We all know where massages lead.) I took everything off except my lace panties. He oiled me up and rubbed me down. It was so fucking hot. He took his time and rubbed EVERYWHERE. He then started gently kissing me from neck to toes, driving me utterly insane. He untied my panties and then it was game fucking over. He still took his time and devoured every inch of me. He entered from behind and the rest is history. He was well-endowed; and his girth was impressive. His rhythm was on point and he was never in a rush. He was pretty silent, but I was loud enough for the both of us.

I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it. Damn. I reported back to my peeps about him and they loved every second of it. Pedro, especially.

The Burger Boy and I saw each other pretty frequently from then on (like every other day). We enjoyed a handful of things together – working out, smoking chronic, drinking, having sex and sitting on patios to people-watch. We’d spend time hanging out downtown and go on day trips to Niagara. I looked past his inability to carry on an informed, engaging, decent conversation and fell hard and fast for the hot piece of ass that he was.

If we weren’t out and about, we were at his place smoking weed and having sex, which was a lot. The pattern was the same, smoke a joint, light some candles, he would give me a back massage and enter me from behind. Routine? Yes. Mundane? Hard fucking no. I loved every second of it.

Truth be told, there wasn’t much substance to our dialogue. His passions in life were working out, fast cars and bikes. He had no intention of leaving his post as a thirty-three-year-old burger flipper. He regaled me with stories about how his boss would take the burger staff to bars and spend thousands on table service; and about his adventures at Cabana Pool Bar (if you ever want to be surrounded by a cesspool of douchebag Chad’s and the wannabe “influencers” and strippers who love them, I highly recommend this place). He was a fucking dud. A hot dud, with the sexiest back (men’s backs are my thing) and thickest head of hair I’d ever run my fingers through, but a dud nonetheless. 

I liked him. When I confided in Queen B, she was glad I was having a good time, but told me that I wasn’t ready to jump into a relationship and he certainly wasn’t treating this as one. She said to enjoy it for what was, sex and fun. I thought I wanted and needed a boyfriend. I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I definitely wanted his attention and affection.

There were red flags.

Red Flag #1 – Once, after we worked out at the gym together, I was changing in the locker room while he waited in his car. When I came out, there was some cougar cleavage bent over and speaking to him through his window on the driver’s side. I got in and she was in the middle of asking him why he didn’t say hello to her, why he had to “be like that”. He kept telling her to chill the fuck out and did not introduce us. He then started to peel away and she yelled out “be careful, he’s fucking crazy!” When I asked what the fuck that was all about, he said she was pissed off because he stopped calling her. He told me that he met her and her twenty-something-year old daughter at the gym. They would ask him for workout tips and this turned into group workout sessions (yeah, “workout” sessions). I asked if he fucked either mom, daughter or both. He denied it. I didn’t believe him.

Red Flag #2 – The frequency of communication dwindled. As time went by, he stopped responding to my messages or responded in an untimely fashion. For example, I messaged him to hang out one Saturday night. He responded the next day. I didn’t pry and I wasn’t upset. I only asked what he ended up doing that night and he concocted this bullshit lie. He told me he was downtown with a friend and meant to get back to me, but then he couldn’t remember where he parked his car. He said he spent most of the night looking for his fucking car. (Asshole, I’ve seen “Dude, Where’s My Car?”) You cock sucking motherfucker; it’s more like you lost your dick in another woman’s pussy. Now my gut was telling me to run, but I ignored it.

Red Flag #3 – We were about six weeks into this “whatever you want to call it” relationship. I was leaving for California to visit Kunks. We were hanging out the night before my flight and I was honest with him. I told him that I liked him (I know, the first red flags should’ve prevented this) and that I didn’t want to share his cock with anyone else. He responded by saying, “typical woman, you hang out for a bit and all of a sudden, you catch feelings.” What the fuck was wrong with liking someone who you’ve been hanging out with and been intimate with? What was wrong with not wanting to share a man with another woman? And what the fuck was “catch feelings?!” God damn it, I was too old for this shit.

What happened to “normal” dating?! I felt like a fucking rookie. I wanted to go back in time and be engaged so I didn’t have to deal with any of this.  

July 2014. I left for Orange County. I couldn’t fucking wait to be in my happy place. Kunks is a fabulous host. We went shopping, ate kick-ass food, drank, hit the beach and the casino; you know, all of the things you do in California. We also had our heart-to-hearts. I told her about Burger Boy and she was not impressed. She said I deserved better and that he was a fucking asshole. She said I was wasting my time. I knew deep down she was right, but I was too damaged to let him go just yet. I had only heard from him a couple of times on my trip.

I came home a few weeks later tanned, feeling rested and rejuvenated. My flight got in around 5pm. When I took my phone off of “airplane” mode, there were messages from Burger Boy. He said that he was excited to see me and he would message me later that evening to hang out. I was pleasantly surprised to see that he remembered when I was coming home.

When I hadn’t heard from him by 9pm, I messaged him. Nothing. I called him a little while later. Nothing. I phoned Kunks telling her what had just transpired. She was further unimpressed. I tried to keep my cool and not get upset, but I was confused as fuck. I called and messaged again. Still nothing.

I didn’t hear from that motherfucker for the rest of the summer. He never called and never messaged. I felt disappointed, sad and ultimately disrespected. I learned another term at that moment, “ghosting”. 

September 2014. I was parking my car at the Keg to meet up with Cheese. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and I was excited to see her and have dinner at our favourite place. I received a message from an unknown number. It said “I miss you, I’m sorry”. I replied, “who the fuck is this?!” 

Holy shit, it was Burger Boy (two months later). I was shocked. I asked him why the fuck he was reaching out to me after shafting my ass all summer. He said “I had to spread my wings. Now I’m done”. Fuck me. Didn’t Cheese and I have THE best conversation over steaks that night! That motherfucker came crawling back after sowing his wild oats and I am so glad I didn’t want him. I never replied.

I was thankful that I was over it. My trips to California and Greece did me some good that summer. I never saw him at the burger joint again. My girl T was pretty sure she saw him behind the counter at the Richmond Hill location. Good riddance.

March 2019. I was driving my Mom, Vic and his girl de jour home from a lovely sushi lunch. We were about to drive by the burger joint. The traffic lights were turning red, so I slowed down and let a pick up truck leaving the burger parking lot pull out in front of me. As he slowly drove out and waved “thank you”, my mom said “you’re welcome, handsome boy”. When I got a better look at the driver, I instantly recognized him. It was the fucking Burger Boy. He had cut his hair; the man bun was gone. He looked good. I started laughing because I realized that my mom and I have the same taste in men. I was staring at him in his rear-view mirror and he was staring back at me. I had my sunglasses on (thank goodness). I think he recognized me. I mean, I was driving the same car and my hair was the same as it was back then. I couldn’t control my laughter. I didn’t know if I should say anything to my passengers.

Well, I couldn’t hold it in. I turned to mom and asked if she wanted to know why I was laughing so hard. She said yes. I answered, “you know the hot guy in that truck? Well, I used to FUCK that guy!!!” She smacked me so hard. She was grossed out, yelling and laughing. Vic and his girl started yelling and laughing in the back seat. I was fucking crying laughing. Vic was grossed out at the idea that mom and I would be attracted to the same dick. We were all dying.

What a random sighting, five years after the fact. I asked myself why the universe would bring a glimpse of my past back to me. I thought maybe it’s because I should fuck him again. Nah. Not worth it.

Duration = 2.5 months

Lesson(s) Learned:

1.      Get real with yourself and know what you want. This is a huge learning experience and one that can take a long time (and that’s ok). If you don’t know what you want, be open to all possibilities and leave expectations at the door. If you just want to fuck around and have fun, then do that; but don’t have expectations of a relationship. Or, if you want a relationship, get to know people who want that as well. You don’t have to have the serious “what are you looking for” talk right off the bat, but it’s something that needs to be addressed.

2.      If someone says they just want to see where this goes, that they don’t want to put a label on it; this means that they are keeping themselves open to other possibilities and don’t want to commit. Either be ok with that or move the fuck on.

3.      Actions speak louder than words. If a guy/girl wants to be with you, they will show you. Words mean dick all if they aren’t backed up with action.

4.      TRUST YOUR GUT. If you’re thinking someone is fucking around or are being disloyal. You’re right.

New Term(s):

catch feeling(s) – verb – Refers to when a person develops romantic feelings for another person.

ghost·ing – /ˈɡōstiNG/ – noun – The practice of ending a personal relationship with someone by suddenly and without explanation withdrawing from all communication.