On the night of a frustrating Republican defeat, I give you a Dan Druff girl story spawned from another Republican defeat 20 years ago

[Dan Druff]

The date was November 3, 1992.

I was not used to seeing my preferred Presidential candidate lose.

I was only four when President Carter won in 1976, but like most 4-year-olds, had no clue about politics, nor would I have cared.

I was 12 when I first discovered I was a Republican, thanks to local a "combat style" talk show that was half serious issues and half entertainment. I watched Ronald Reagan easily win in '84, and George H.W. Bush smack down Dukakis in '88. I took for granted that the Republicans were winning, and dismissed the Democrats' chances for the foreseeable future.

But here we were in November, 1992. I was 20 years old, and I was watching not only George H.W. Bush get beat down in the Presidental election, but also many House/Senate races go surprisingly Democratic. And this was the first election where I really, really cared what happened. I was for Bush in '88, but I wasn't all that political and only moderately cared. Here was the first election I really cared about, and my party got trounced.

Even worse, I lived in an apartment with 3 left-wing roommates. They were celebrating. I couldn't bear to watch the returns on TV anymore. I went into my bedroom alone, and felt legitimately depressed.

I sat there for about 15 minutes, just staring at the wall. I knew I shouldn't let the election get to me like that, but somehow it did. I needed something to snap me out of the funk. I couldn't call any of my college friends, because every single one of them was a Democrat, and they were all celebrating, as well.

Then my phone rang.

Was it one of my buddies calling me to gloat?

Was it a family member wanting to commiserate over the results?

Was it just a wrong number?

Actually, that's exactly what it was -- a wrong number.

An attractive-sounding girl on the other end asked for a guy named Jeff.

I was just about to answer, "Sorry, there's no Jeff here", but it hit me.

This was my distraction. Perhaps this was exactly what I needed -- to screw with some random wrong number and see how long I could string them along. Well, at least it was something to do that could take my mind off the election.

This might remind you of another college story that took place a year earlier, where I impersonated a guy named Mike in a pizza place: http://pokerfraudalert.com/forum/sho...n-1991-Edition

... But this was different. I wasn't looking to be Jeff in order to get laid. Rather, I was going to make a reverse-prank-call out of it. I was going to say increasingly outrageous things as "Jeff" and see how long it took this girl to catch on.

The girl said her name was Chrissy. I took on a stoner-like persona as "Jeff", hoping that I could use my intentionally slurred and slowed speech to erase any doubts about my voice being different. Chrissy did remark that I "sounded different" since she last spoke to me. I told her that I've been "hitting the bong a lot" and "trying out crack, trying out speed, whatever falls in my lap." She was very shocked, telling "Jeff" that she had always thought he was anti-drugs, and that she never pictured him doing that. I continued a really over-the-top impersonation of a drug addict for about 15 minutes, and then finally felt bad for the girl. She seemed nice. She was genuinely concerned for Jeff. Pissed about the election or not, I couldn't go through with it any longer.

"One more... thing... about me... ad this is something that's... gonna really shock you...", I slurred at her.

"Okay, what is it?"

My voice perked up and I suddenly spoke normally.

"I'm not Jeff."

I was expecting the phone to click to a dial tone. I was expecting anger. I was expecting the word "Asshole!" to be shouted any second.

I got none of that.

"I can't believe it!", she said, with an amused tone of voice. "You totally got me. I was like, what the fuck happened to Jeff? I couldn't believe he had changed so much in 10 months. But that was good. I never suspected you weren't him."

"Well, again, I'm sorry. I just didn't like the election results tonight, and this was like stress relief for me," I explained.

"No, I totally understand. Anyway, you seem pretty cool. You want to keep talking?"

And so I had my distraction on November 3, 1992. Except it was far from over.

END PART 1



PART 2 WILL FEATURE:

- A revelation that her last ex-boyfriend was coincidentally a guy I disliked in high school, and my plan to screw with the guy for both of our amusements.

- A prank call to her older sister

- An abrupt turn of events


STAY TUNED

[PLOL]

Very interesting story line actually. Will be anxiously awaiting part 2.

[chinamaniac]

hof

looking forward to part 2

[Dan Druff]

PART 2

Chrissy and I kept talking. She told me she was 18, and lived in Bakersfield. The latter was very disappointing to find out. I had initially assumed that she was from Santa Barbara, like me, but Bakersfield was 160 miles away. I thought it might have been because, despite their distance, Bakersfield and Santa Barbara shared (at the time) the 805 area code. However, she told me that she had recently lived in Santa Barbara, and had just moved back to Bakersfield.

Chrissy had a really sexy voice. It was one of the best voices I had ever heard, though my years of experience of meeting girls from computer bulletin boards taught me that meant nothing. Some of the best voices were connected to hideous creatures on the other end of the line. In 1992, there was no Facebook or anything else where you could easily see a picture. Meeting girls over the phone in those days was a complete leap of faith.

Still, her voice was really nice to listen to, and despite not being particularly smart or sophisticated, she had a fun personality and could hold a conversation well. I quickly forgot about my temporary depression regarding Presdient-elect Clinton, and was cracking jokes and very upbeat throughout the call.

We had talked for about 2 hours or so, when she mentioned that she left Santa Barbara because of a bad breakup with an ex-boyfriend. I could tell she was still very affected by the whole thing, even though it had been several months. I asked if he was a UCSB student, and she said that he was.

"Well, it's a huge school, but there's still a small chance I might know him. What was his name?"

"His name is Nick Granber, and he's an arrogant asshole."

(* Nick Granber isn't his real name, but I changed it so he doesn't find this if he ever googles himself.)



I knew a Nick Granber. Except it wasn't from UCSB. It was from high school!

Yes, Nick sat next to me in English class during my junior year. I never had any major altercations with the guy, but he was just generally a dick to me for no reason. I felt that "arrogant asshole" was a perfect description of him, and memories from four years beforehand came rushing back. It's not like he did anything really bad to me, but I always thought to myself, "Wow, that guy is an arrogant prick" whenever I interacted with him. I had completely forgotten about him until she said his name.

I thought it was probably the same guy, because his name was uncommon, and I had heard that Nick did indeed go on to attend UCSB like me. I asked her a few more questions about him (what he looked like, what his interests were, etc) and determined with certainty that he was the same guy.

She went on to tell me a story about how she was living with Nick, and then one day he just got sick of her and kicked her out of the house. No reason, no fight... he just told her to leave and that was that, after telling her that he loved her just a week before. Or at least that was her story. Knowing the guy, I actually believed it.

"You want to do something to fuck with him? To really piss him off?", I asked.

"Yeah, I'd love that, but I have no idea what I could do."

"Give me his phone number. I'll take it from there. Just make sure you either mute your phone or keep quiet in the background."

"Okay, his number is.... XXX-XXXX"

I three-wayed on Nick, knowing exactly the perfect prank to pull on him. He answered the phone, already sounding annoyed.

"Hello, can I speak to Nick Granber please?", I asked in a lower-pitch, gravelly voice that I figured would best pass for that of a cop.

"Yeah, this is Nick. Who is this?"

"This is Detective Eric Thomas from the Santa Barbara Police Department, I have a few questions I need to ask you."

"What? The police? Um, okay, what do you need?"

"We have received a number of reports regarding obscene phone calls to women in the area over the past two months, and after a thorough investigation, we have traced them to this phone number."

"Obscene phone calls?! I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't done anything like that!"

"Our equipment logged 47 different calls during September and October, and all of it traces back to you. You're going to need to answer some questions about this."

"What?! No I don't. I don't have to talk to you. This is bullshit. I didn't do anything. I'm hanging up."

"That's fine, sir. You are not legally obligated to stay on this phone call. You can hang up at any time, and we'll just send a few black-and-white units to take you to the station for some more formal questioning."

"Wait.... wait! No, I don't want that. Okay, what do you need to know?"

"I need you to tell me what you were doing on the nights of Septmeber 15th, September 18th, September 24th, September 26th, October 3rd, October 8th, October 11th, October 17th, October 22nd, and October 24th."

"Huh?? I don't know. I was just doing whatever. How am I supposed to remember what I was doing every night?"

"So you have no alibi. That's what I figured." (typing sound in the background, which was actually just me banging on my keyboard)

"WAIT! I didn't say I have no alibi. Hey, what are you typing? Don't write that!"

"I'm sorry, but I have to make this report very clear and very complete. So you are unable to tell me what you were doing on any of the nights where the obscene calls were traced to your line. I'm sure you see how this looks."

"I didn't make any fucking obscene phone calls! This is a load of crap!"

"Hang on... (typing sound)... This....is... a.. load...of... crap. Got it."

"NO! Don't put that in the report! Come on man, this is bullshit!"

"(typing sound) Come... on... man... this... is.... bullshit..."

"You know what? I'm hanging up. You can't do this to me!"

"As I said, if you would like to continue this at the station, I would have no problem with that. In fact, it will streamline the whole arrest process."

"Arrest? Arrest? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! I SWEAR! I'M INNOCENT!!!"

"But yet you can't tell me what you were doing on September 15th."

"How the fuck am I supposed to remember that?!"

"(typing) How... the... fuck.... am... I.... supposed.... to..."

"STOP IT! STOP TYPING! FUCK! Why are you doing this, I didn't make any calls!!"

"Don't worry, the details of this report will only be in a few of the local papers. It probably won't make it to the LA Times."

"Local papers? No, come on, this is some mistake, I swear. Please, officer, I didn't make any dirty calls to anyone!"

"I got all I needed here from this interview. We will be in touch. Don't leave the county."

I hung up, and wondered what Chrissy thought of the whole thing. Nick bought all of this hook, line, and sinker. Not one moment did he think it was a prank call. Normally I wouldn't be this mean on a prank, but it felt good, given my longtime dislike for Nick. But what was Chrissy's reaction? Did she feel bad for Nick? Did she think I was a bit too cruel? Did she find it even slightly amusing?

"You can talk now, he's off the phone," I told her.

"Oh my God," she said, having a hard time getting words out in between laughter. "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life! That was PERFECT! I was laughing so loud the whole time, I was hoping that my mute button was really working. I'm glad it did. That was awesome! When you were typing everything he was saying, I just totally lost it!"

"I enjoyed it. The fact that I already knew him and thought he was a piece of shit made it that much more satisfying. And yeah, I had a hard time keeping from laughing at certain points."

"I know! How did you do that without busting up?"

It was clear that Chrissy LOVED the call. We talked for about another hour, and then I asked if there was anyone else she wanted me to prank.

"Yeah, there is," she replied. "My sister."

"Your sister? Do you hate her, too?"

"No, but she's 10 years older than me, and a lot of time she talks down to me, and it's really annoying. I don't want you to do anything mean, but I'd love to hear you mess with her kinda like you did with me at the beginning, and hear how she reacts."

"You said that she's 28 and talks down to you because you're almost from a different generation, right?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"I got an idea for the call..."

So I called up her sister, and I pretended to be some guy she casually knew -- like a friend of a friend. Chrissy gave me some background information to where I was able to make it somewhat believable. I made the whole theme of the call a long list of complaints about "young people" and how they "just don't get it", with the joke obviously being that I was only 20 myself, and was pretending to be 28 and looking down upon my own actual age group. I mainly stuck to anecdotes from the early-to-mid 1980s, insisting how "kids today" (in 1992) didn't understand the time period.

"I went out wearing my alligator shirt today, and these obnoxious teenagers were staring at me. Like they have no idea how cool this looked in 1984, and I'm thinking, 'Hey punk, take off that stupid looking flannel and get some real style!'"

So I kept up with little quips like that, trying to get more and more ridiculous with each one. I even complained that kids eating M&Ms today "don't realize they're eating the official candy of the 1984 Olympics, and they just don't get the significance of what they're putting in their mouths."

Her sister never caught on, and in fact told me at the end of the call that she "really enjoyed the memories" and that I said "a lot of things that [she] had been thinking for a long time."

I ended the call, and while I thought it was funny, I wasn't sure that Chrissy, already being two years younger than me, appreciated a lot of the cultural references from 8-10 years ago.

But, like the Nick call before that, Chrissy loved it. And it upped her opinion of me even further.

"You're just... amazing. I'm so glad I called the wrong number. That call to Nick... the call to my sister... pretty much everything.... I'm really wet right now."



That last line came out of nowhere. We had been talking for 3 hours, but we hadn't even touched the topic of sex. It was all small talk, humor, and prank calls. In fact, I thought she was just being sarcastic.

"Oh yeah," I countered, "My prank calls make people wet all the time."

"No, I'm serious," she said, in a softer sounding voice. "I've loved everything about this call, everything about you. Those prank calls were so funny, so clever, so perfect. And I just wonder... if you are so perfect with those, what you'd be like in.... other ways."



Keep in mind that this girl had the sexiest voice I had ever heard, and now SHE was the one starting to break out the dirty talk to me. As the call went on, she got more explicit, and started talking dirtier and dirtier to me. I almost felt like I owed her $5.99 per minute for staying on the call.

We talked another three hours before getting off the phone. By the end, we agreed that I would be driving to Bakersfield on Friday.

She had described herself as having blond hair, blue eyes, 5'7", 130 pounds, and having big tits. I had know way of knowing if this was the truth, but I was starting to develop the gut feeling that it was.

I still heard election celebrating coming from the living room. I no longer cared.

END PART 2


PART 3 COMING SOON

[Corrigan]

[chinamaniac]

"So you have no alibi. That's what I figured." (typing sound in the background, which was actually just me banging on my keyboard)

[unchainedghost]

Solid story time from druff
90's stories > 2000's stories

[Jasep]

I mean, you had her ex boyfriend as a point of reference so if he seemed like the type who would date a monster, you probably had one on your hands

[LLL]

An attractive-sounding girl on the other end asked for a guy named Jeff.

I have found that voices are not a good indicator of looks when it comes to girls on the phone.

Great story!

[Walter Sobchak]

MOAR PLEASE

[BCR]

I mean, you had her ex boyfriend as a point of reference so if he seemed like the type who would date a monster, you probably had one on your hands

You beat me to it. You could put her in a range at that point. Unless the ex was completely average, you would have a good guess as to what he could pull, particularly at that age. As you get older, it is less certain as it becomes about money, but with an 18 year old, it's all about heat.



You are really good at prank calls Druff, but I can't imagine any scenario where I fall for this, even at that age. I am tempted to pm you my cell and an invitation to randomly prank me and record it for radio because I don't think I'm falling for it, but it's possible you would choose the right angle and somehow get me. You'd have to wait 6 months for me to quit expecting it though.

[Ryback_feed_me_more]

PART 2

Chrissy and I kept talking. She told me she was 18, and lived in Bakersfield. The latter was very disappointing to find out. I had initially assumed that she was from Santa Barbara, like me, but Bakersfield was 160 miles away. I thought it might have been because, despite their distance, Bakersfield and Santa Barbara shared (at the time) the 805 area code. However, she told me that she had recently lived in Santa Barbara, and had just moved back to Bakersfield.

Chrissy had a really sexy voice. It was one of the best voices I had ever heard, though my years of experience of meeting girls from computer bulletin boards taught me that meant nothing. Some of the best voices were connected to hideous creatures on the other end of the line. In 1992, there was no Facebook or anything else where you could easily see a picture. Meeting girls over the phone in those days was a complete leap of faith.

Still, her voice was really nice to listen to, and despite not being particularly smart or sophisticated, she had a fun personality and could hold a conversation well. I quickly forgot about my temporary depression regarding Presdient-elect Clinton, and was cracking jokes and very upbeat throughout the call.

We had talked for about 2 hours or so, when she mentioned that she left Santa Barbara because of a bad breakup with an ex-boyfriend. I could tell she was still very affected by the whole thing, even though it had been several months. I asked if he was a UCSB student, and she said that he was.

"Well, it's a huge school, but there's still a small chance I might know him. What was his name?"

"His name is Nick Granber, and he's an arrogant asshole."

(* Nick Granber isn't his real name, but I changed it so he doesn't find this if he ever googles himself.)



I knew a Nick Granber. Except it wasn't from UCSB. It was from high school!

Yes, Nick sat next to me in English class during my junior year. I never had any major altercations with the guy, but he was just generally a dick to me for no reason. I felt that "arrogant asshole" was a perfect description of him, and memories from four years beforehand came rushing back. It's not like he did anything really bad to me, but I always thought to myself, "Wow, that guy is an arrogant prick" whenever I interacted with him. I had completely forgotten about him until she said his name.

I thought it was probably the same guy, because his name was uncommon, and I had heard that Nick did indeed go on to attend UCSB like me. I asked her a few more questions about him (what he looked like, what his interests were, etc) and determined with certainty that he was the same guy.

She went on to tell me a story about how she was living with Nick, and then one day he just got sick of her and kicked her out of the house. No reason, no fight... he just told her to leave and that was that, after telling her that he loved her just a week before. Or at least that was her story. Knowing the guy, I actually believed it.

"You want to do something to fuck with him? To really piss him off?", I asked.

"Yeah, I'd love that, but I have no idea what I could do."

"Give me his phone number. I'll take it from there. Just make sure you either mute your phone or keep quiet in the background."

"Okay, his number is.... XXX-XXXX"

I three-wayed on Nick, knowing exactly the perfect prank to pull on him. He answered the phone, already sounding annoyed.

"Hello, can I speak to Nick Granber please?", I asked in a lower-pitch, gravelly voice that I figured would best pass for that of a cop.

"Yeah, this is Nick. Who is this?"

"This is Detective Eric Thomas from the Santa Barbara Police Department, I have a few questions I need to ask you."

"What? The police? Um, okay, what do you need?"

"We have received a number of reports regarding obscene phone calls to women in the area over the past two months, and after a thorough investigation, we have traced them to this phone number."

"Obscene phone calls?! I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't done anything like that!"

"Our equipment logged 47 different calls during September and October, and all of it traces back to you. You're going to need to answer some questions about this."

"What?! No I don't. I don't have to talk to you. This is bullshit. I didn't do anything. I'm hanging up."

"That's fine, sir. You are not legally obligated to stay on this phone call. You can hang up at any time, and we'll just send a few black-and-white units to take you to the station for some more formal questioning."

"Wait.... wait! No, I don't want that. Okay, what do you need to know?"

"I need you to tell me what you were doing on the nights of Septmeber 15th, September 18th, September 24th, September 26th, October 3rd, October 8th, October 11th, October 17th, October 22nd, and October 24th."

"Huh?? I don't know. I was just doing whatever. How am I supposed to remember what I was doing every night?"

"So you have no alibi. That's what I figured." (typing sound in the background, which was actually just me banging on my keyboard)

"WAIT! I didn't say I have no alibi. Hey, what are you typing? Don't write that!"

"I'm sorry, but I have to make this report very clear and very complete. So you are unable to tell me what you were doing on any of the nights where the obscene calls were traced to your line. I'm sure you see how this looks."

"I didn't make any fucking obscene phone calls! This is a load of crap!"

"Hang on... (typing sound)... This....is... a.. load...of... crap. Got it."

"NO! Don't put that in the report! Come on man, this is bullshit!"

"(typing sound) Come... on... man... this... is.... bullshit..."

"You know what? I'm hanging up. You can't do this to me!"

"As I said, if you would like to continue this at the station, I would have no problem with that. In fact, it will streamline the whole arrest process."

"Arrest? Arrest? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! I SWEAR! I'M INNOCENT!!!"

"But yet you can't tell me what you were doing on September 15th."

"How the fuck am I supposed to remember that?!"

"(typing) How... the... fuck.... am... I.... supposed.... to..."

"STOP IT! STOP TYPING! FUCK! Why are you doing this, I didn't make any calls!!"

"Don't worry, the details of this report will only be in a few of the local papers. It probably won't make it to the LA Times."

"Local papers? No, come on, this is some mistake, I swear. Please, officer, I didn't make any dirty calls to anyone!"

"I got all I needed here from this interview. We will be in touch. Don't leave the county."

I hung up, and wondered what Chrissy thought of the whole thing. Nick bought all of this hook, line, and sinker. Not one moment did he think it was a prank call. Normally I wouldn't be this mean on a prank, but it felt good, given my longtime dislike for Nick. But what was Chrissy's reaction? Did she feel bad for Nick? Did she think I was a bit too cruel? Did she find it even slightly amusing?

"You can talk now, he's off the phone," I told her.

"Oh my God," she said, having a hard time getting words out in between laughter. "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life! That was PERFECT! I was laughing so loud the whole time, I was hoping that my mute button was really working. I'm glad it did. That was awesome! When you were typing everything he was saying, I just totally lost it!"

"I enjoyed it. The fact that I already knew him and thought he was a piece of shit made it that much more satisfying. And yeah, I had a hard time keeping from laughing at certain points."

"I know! How did you do that without busting up?"

It was clear that Chrissy LOVED the call. We talked for about another hour, and then I asked if there was anyone else she wanted me to prank.

"Yeah, there is," she replied. "My sister."

"Your sister? Do you hate her, too?"

"No, but she's 10 years older than me, and a lot of time she talks down to me, and it's really annoying. I don't want you to do anything mean, but I'd love to hear you mess with her kinda like you did with me at the beginning, and hear how she reacts."

"You said that she's 28 and talks down to you because you're almost from a different generation, right?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"I got an idea for the call..."

So I called up her sister, and I pretended to be some guy she casually knew -- like a friend of a friend. Chrissy gave me some background information to where I was able to make it somewhat believable. I made the whole theme of the call a long list of complaints about "young people" and how they "just don't get it", with the joke obviously being that I was only 20 myself, and was pretending to be 28 and looking down upon my own actual age group. I mainly stuck to anecdotes from the early-to-mid 1980s, insisting how "kids today" (in 1992) didn't understand the time period.

"I went out wearing my alligator shirt today, and these obnoxious teenagers were staring at me. Like they have no idea how cool this looked in 1984, and I'm thinking, 'Hey punk, take off that stupid looking flannel and get some real style!'"

So I kept up with little quips like that, trying to get more and more ridiculous with each one. I even complained that kids eating M&Ms today "don't realize they're eating the official candy of the 1984 Olympics, and they just don't get the significance of what they're putting in their mouths."

Her sister never caught on, and in fact told me at the end of the call that she "really enjoyed the memories" and that I said "a lot of things that [she] had been thinking for a long time."

I ended the call, and while I thought it was funny, I wasn't sure that Chrissy, already being two years younger than me, appreciated a lot of the cultural references from 8-10 years ago.

But, like the Nick call before that, Chrissy loved it. And it upped her opinion of me even further.

"You're just... amazing. I'm so glad I called the wrong number. That call to Nick... the call to my sister... pretty much everything.... I'm really wet right now."



That last line came out of nowhere. We had been talking for 3 hours, but we hadn't even touched the topic of sex. It was all small talk, humor, and prank calls. In fact, I thought she was just being sarcastic.

"Oh yeah," I countered, "My prank calls make people wet all the time."

"No, I'm serious," she said, in a softer sounding voice. "I've loved everything about this call, everything about you. Those prank calls were so funny, so clever, so perfect. And I just wonder... if you are so perfect with those, what you'd be like in.... other ways."



Keep in mind that this girl had the sexiest voice I had ever heard, and now SHE was the one starting to break out the dirty talk to me. As the call went on, she got more explicit, and started talking dirtier and dirtier to me. I almost felt like I owed her $5.99 per minute for staying on the call.

We talked another three hours before getting off the phone. By the end, we agreed that I would be driving to Bakersfield on Friday.

She had described herself as having blond hair, blue eyes, 5'7", 130 pounds, and having big tits. I had know way of knowing if this was the truth, but I was starting to develop the gut feeling that it was.

I still heard election celebrating coming from the living room. I no longer cared.

END PART 2


PART 3 COMING SOON

Damn Druff who knew you had major game dude.. My hats off to ya.

[PLOL]

"You're just... amazing. I'm so glad I called the wrong number. That call to Nick... the call to my sister... pretty much everything.... I'm really wet right now."

[SrslySirius]

She had described herself as having blond hair, blue eyes, 5'7", 130 pounds, and having big tits. I had know way of knowing if this was the truth, but I was starting to develop the gut feeling that it was.

My gut says that she's full of shit.

That's something I'll never understand btw. Completely lying about your appearance (or using deceptive photos), then hoping it'll somehow work out once you meet face to face.

[PLOL]

Druff, after she described herself on the phone, did you then describe yourself? If so, how did you describe yourself and did you fudge any numbers at all?

[Dan Druff]

Druff, after she described herself on the phone, did you then describe yourself? If so, how did you describe yourself and did you fudge any numbers at all?

I described myself accurately.

I was 20 years old, tall, and thin back then, so what was there really to fudge?

In case you're wondering, I did not give an opinion of my own looks, such as claiming I was good looking or anything like that. I always felt that it was best to simply give a factual description that's true, and then let the chips fall where they may when you meet.

Regarding the commentary from Jasep and BCR that I should have been able to ascertain whether or not she was a "monster" from the quality of girls that the ex-boyfriend pulled, I had exactly that thought myself at the time. I just forgot to include it in the story.

Even though this Nick guy was an asshole, he was a good looking guy and only seemed to date attractive girls, so I knew at the very least she had to be above-average looking. That was an important detail that I omitted.

Anyway, Part 3 coming later today.

[Wiganer]

[Faduniak]

Druff, after she described herself on the phone, did you then describe yourself? If so, how did you describe yourself and did you fudge any numbers at all?

I described myself accurately.

I was 20 years old, tall, and thin back then, so what was there really to fudge?

In case you're wondering, I did not give an opinion of my own looks, such as claiming I was good looking or anything like that. I always felt that it was best to simply give a factual description that's true, and then let the chips fall where they may when you meet.

Regarding the commentary from Jasep and BCR that I should have been able to ascertain whether or not she was a "monster" from the quality of girls that the ex-boyfriend pulled, I had exactly that thought myself at the time. I just forgot to include it in the story.

Even though this Nick guy was an asshole, he was a good looking guy and only seemed to date attractive girls, so I knew at the very least she had to be above-average looking. That was an important detail that I omitted.

Anyway, Part 3 coming later today.

[Dan Druff]

Here comes Part 3.

My girlfriend actually read this (I didn't realize she still reads this forum), and told me that it was a "good story" and she wanted to know how it ended. Even she was irritated that I didn't post Part 3 when I said I would.

Anyway, onto the third and final chapter to this story....

[Dan Druff]

PART 3

Chrissy matter-of-factly told me that she would have sex with me if I came to visit her in Bakersfield. Her description sounded great -- 5'7", 130 pounds, blond hair, blue eyes... could it really be true? Was a smoking hot 18-year-old promising me no-strings-attached sex, sight unseen, because I impressed her with a few prank calls? Or was she actually a monster with a deceivingly sexy voice?

Moments like these always required a judgment call on my part. I had been on computer bulletin boards since 1986, and had met a variety of girls over the years. A lot of times you had to read between the lines to figure out how they looked. Often details they didn't provide would be more revealing than the details they gave. Other times you could draw conclusions from their activities or associations. A girl who was a cheerleader in high school would have a higher chance of being attractive than one who was in the marching band, for example.

In this case, I had one point of reference. I knew Nick from high school, and I remembered the girls he dated. They were always at least semi-hot. Nick was exceedingly arrogant. He was not the type that would be seen with an ugly girl, as he would believe it would reflect poorly upon himself. For this reason, unless Chrissy was completely lying about the relationship with Nick, I knew she had to be at least above-average looking.

The original plan was for me to drive to Bakersfield on Friday, and stay the night. I realized that there was no need to wait until Friday, as I didn't have any classes that day. I suggested to move it up a day -- to Thursday. I was impatient to see where this would lead. Even though Friday was just three days away, it seemed like an eternity.

Chrissy agreed to have me come on Thursday, except she was working that night. She lived with her mom, but she let me know on the phone that her mom was gone for the night, and that we would have the entire house to ourselves, and her mom wouldn't return until Friday at 5pm.

I agreed to pick her up at work -- from a fast food place. This was a bit of a red flag. How many hot chicks do you know that work at fast food joints? Sure, there's a few, but for the most part, 18-year-old girls at fast food places tend to be on the monsterish side. Still, I reminded myself that Nick wouldn't have dated someone gross, so I figured that Bakersfield might be different, and that perhaps it wasn't uncommon there for attractive girls to work in fast food.

She got off at 10pm. I made it there a little bit early -- at about 9:40. I considered walking in, but I felt the whole thing would be awkward, especially meeting her for the first time in front of her co-workers. I decided to wait it out until 10pm, and wait for her to come out, as agreed.

It got to 10pm, and she didn't come out. Remember that this was 1992, so I couldn't call or text her from my cell phone. Almost nobody had cell phones back then.

At that moment, some of my worst fears entered my mind.

"What if she was fucking with me? What if she doesn't actually work here? What if she never shows up? Could I have really been such a chump to have driven 160 miles each way to meet a girl who never planned upon actually being there?"

It got to 10:15, still no sign of her. I saw some employees leave, but they were all male.

At about 10:20, the lights went off. Another male walked out. It looked like he was the last one. I turned on my car, ready to drive back to Santa Barbara with intense shame.

Then another figure appeared through the door. Finally, it was a female, and while the uniforms weren't particularly flattering, her body looked good from what I could see in the dark.

I pulled up closer, waved at her (praying that this wasn't just some stranger who would think I was a fast food rapist), and waited for a reaction. She walked to my car and got in the passenger door.

I could now see her up close. She was pretty, and her description was accurate. She was not a stunning head-turner, but she was very cute and I was quite pleased with what I saw.

"I'm so sorry! I kept trying to leave, but they were forcing me to help close, and it just kept dragging and dragging," she said. "Well, anyway, hi. Thanks for coming all the way out here."

Now came the hard part. I had to get a "read" if she was really into me.

It can be easy to let your imagination get carried away on the phone and say things you don't mean, especially if you're not used to meeting people that way. Sure, she spent 3 hours on the phone with me talking in a way that would normally set a guy back $4.99/minute, but that was when she was caught up in the moment of picturing me as some sort of ideal mystery man. Now that she saw the real me, would her offers be null and void?

I always had a natural ability to read girls' interest in me really well, but occasionally I would draw a blank, and this was one of those times. I wasn't getting the vibe from Chrissy that she was good to go and really into me, but I also wasn't getting the vibe that she had no interest. It was kind of one of those no-man's-land deals where she wasn't giving off any immediate tells.

She didn't have a car. I don't know how she got to work (and I didn't bother to ask), but I was the one driving, and she was directing me to her house. Amazingly, even though she was directing me from her own work to her own house, we got lost. We ended up in a nearby city called Oildale, which looked just like what you'd picture from the name.

Here is a picture of Oildale, and this is exactly what I saw, except it was also dark outside:



On one hand, it was kind of hot to think that I was lost in the middle of nowhere with a pretty 18-year-old girl in the car. However, I was too preoccupied with the reality of the situation to enjoy it. She had no idea where we were, I had no idea where we were, and neither of us had any maps to get us out of the mess. I wondered if I'd really be driving around endlessly for hours, or having both of us stuck sleeping in my small car until daylight.

I decided to try and remove the stress from the situation by inserting some dark humor into it.

"You know," I said to her, "When a girl meets a stranger over the phone, she's always taking the risk that he'll drive her out to some remote area and do something really bad. If that's the case here, I don't even have to do the first part. You already did it for me! Are you sure you didn't bring me out here because you pegged me as a serial killer, and thought you might as well just get it overwith and direct me to the right spot?"

I was taking a bit of a risk making a comment like this, as she could take me seriously and legitimately worry and/or panic. However, judging from her personality on the phone, as well as what I had seen of her in the first 20 minutes together, I thought she would take it in good humor.

"I'm not worried," she shot back.

"You're not worried? How can you be so sure? We've only been together for 20 minutes."

"I can just tell," she answered. "I already feel safe with you. I can't explain it, but I just do."

Finally, I had my first tell -- and it was a positive one. That answer was very encouraging. If she was disappointed by how I looked and/or acted, she wouldn't have given me such a ringing endorsement. It came off as very sincere, and I figured there was now a high chance that I was going to score -- provided we could ever find her damn house!

As we drove around, she finally thought she recognized where we were, and directed me to where she thought would lead to her familiar area. As we eventually broke away from the oil fields and finally appeared in a residential neighborhood (copyright badguy23), I decided to mess with her a bit. Chrissy had a nice personality, but she was a bit on the gullible side. While this probably wasn't the best thing to do in hindsight, I decided to say a few outrageous things and see if she'd fall for them.

She noticed that my car, which was a crappy 1976 Honda Civic, made a cricket-like sound whenever I exceeded 50 MPH. I think it was because of the door being poorly sealed, or something like that. Anyway, she asked me, "What's that cricket sound I keep hearing?"

I answered, "Oh, that's my pet cricket. He lives in my car."

"Why would you have a pet cricket?", she asked.

"Oh, he's not just any cricket. I trained him to chirp whenever I drive over 50 miles per hour. This way I know to slow down if I'm driving on a street where the speed limit is 40 or less."

"Are you serious? How did you get a cricket to do that?"

"Most of the time you can't, but I saw this cricket in my house and he seemed really with it, so I thought he might be smart enough to actually train to do something like this."

"Well, okay. Wait... you're not screwing with me, are you?"

"No, no... I would never joke about my pet cricket."

"Well, okay then. Never heard of anything like this but it's pretty cool you were able to do that."



She then noticed that I had an unusual-looking garage-door opener on the passenger sun visor of my car, and asked about it. I told her that it was a universal opener, and could open any garage door anywhere.

She thought for a second and said, "What? No! I don't believe that! Go ahead, let's see you use it!"

"Okay," I said, "Here we go."

I started rapidly clicking it, as we continued driving past a long row of houses.

"See!", she exclaimed, "None of them are opening! I knew it wouldn't do that!"

"No," I replied, "They are opening, but we're just driving so fast that you can't see them open by the time they start to move."

"Oh...... okay...... No, wait! You're lying! I don't believe that!"

"Okay, okay, fine.... I was just messing with you. I knew you would see through that. But you do think my cricket is cool, right?"

"Yeah, that cricket is pretty cool."



So the girl wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but she seemed like a lot of fun, and I was enjoying her company.

We finally got back to her house, and indeed there was no one else home. We went into her room, and within a very short time, we were making out. I don't remember what exactly triggered it to happen, but it did, and things progressed fairly quickly. We had sex twice that night, and then once again in the morning. Her breasts were surprisingly big once she took off the bulky fast food uniform. We went back to sleep, and I thought maybe we'd wake up around 2pm, and I would bang her one more time before hopping in my Civic and riding off into the Kern County sunset. I did know that I had to be out of the house before 5:00, because her mom was apparently very protective and would be super-pissed if she knew a dude had stayed over there.

Rather than waking up at my own pace and gently getting things going again, I was jarred awake by panic and shaking.

"WAKE UP!! MY MOM IS HERE!!!"

"What?!", I exclaimed, "I thought you said she's working until 5!"

"She is! But she came home early for lunch or something! I don't know!"

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Looks like you're going to have to introduce me, like it or not."

"Oh, no, I can't! She'll kick me out if she finds this! She already kicked me out once for this, which is why I ended up living in Santa Barbara. I can't let this happen again! She's in the garage and about to walk into the house."

"Well," I explained, "I don't see how we're going to get out of this one if she's already in the house. Unless we just sit here quiet and hope she thinks you're sleeping, and never walks in."

"No, she always comes in here when she gets home..... ummmm...... wait, I got it! Get in the closet!"

"Oh come on, this is so cliche...."

"Get in the closet! It's the only way! Do it quickly!!"

So there I was, standing in my underwear in the closet. How did I get to this point? Less than three days ago, I was sitting peacefully, albeit a bit depressed, in my familiar Santa Barbara apartment. Now I was hiding in a closet wearing nothing but my underwear, and hoping that her mom didn't catch the previous guy in the identical place.

I heard the bedroom door open.

"Chrissy!" snapped an angry, middle-aged-sounding woman. "I see a yellow Honda outside the house. Do you know anything about that?"



"No, mom, why would I know anything about that?"

"It's just right in front of our house, and I've never seen it before. And I was gone all last night. Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

"Why are you coming in here and just giving me shit like this?", she protested. "Am I supposed to know about every fucking car in the neighborhood? Maybe it's someone visiting one of the neighbors, I have no idea."

"You better not be lying to me again, or there's going to be big problems!"

"Do you see anyone here, mom? Do you?! Can you leave me alone? I was trying to take a nap when you barged in here!"

I heard the door close. Her mom was out of the room. But now what?

"Quick, get out!", Chrissy ordered.

"Get out where?"

"The window. Go out the window. I just heard my mom go in the bathroom. Now is your time to escape!"

"Come on," I complained, "I don't want to climb out the window. What if one of the neighbors sees this, thinks I'm breaking in, and calls the police?"

"Nobody's calling the police. Just get out! Quick!"

I grabbed my stuff, quickly kissed her goodbye, and went out the window.

I ran to my car, jumped in, and sped off -- or at least as fast as a 1976 Honda Civic would let me speed off.

I never saw Chrissy again after that. Within a few weeks, I met a new girl (one who lived a lot closer) and quickly became serious with her, so I had no reason to drive to Bakersfield. Needless to say, I didn't see her as "relationship material". After my new relationship ended, I considered calling Chrissy again and having a second go at it. I did keep in touch with her occasionally, but she just seemed so far away and too much trouble. She did indicate that she wanted to see me again if I wanted to make the drive. Eventually she moved out of Bakersfield and we lost touch.

In an odd coincidence, less than 18 months later, I had a girlfriend who had just moved from Bakersfield to Los Angeles, and was the exact same age as Chrissy. They didn't know each other, though. Seven years after that, in 2001, I dated yet another girl who had gone to high school in Bakersfield around the same time.

This results in the strange fact that I had sex with three different girls that had gone to high school in Bakersfield in the early '90s, despite never having lived within 150 miles of the place.

On the way back from Bakersfield to Santa Barbara, I had a lot of time to think. One of the thoughts that popped into my head was about my future.

"I wonder, one day, when I do settle down with one girl, who will it be, and how will I have met her?"

The answer was right in front of me. Just two weeks before this whole Bakersfield adventure, I had a 90-minute phone conversation with a different girl, who was a fellow UCSB student. 18 years later, that girl would give birth to my son, Benjamin.