Jake was tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and very fit. When I happened upon his pictures, they were all professionally done photos of him posing next to cars. Soon after he started messaging me, and I had found out that he was a professional hockey player for in a neighboring city. He was Czech, and texted in awkward English.
“You want to meet”
“I’m not bad”
I could almost heard the thick Slavic accent in the texts.
I finally agreed to meet up with him. He was a public figure so I figured that he was relatively normal. However there was a problem, he lived in a city about an hour and a half away from me and I didn’t have a car in college.
“I can pick you up. You can stay in hotel”
Reluctantly, I agreed. He was cute and I was young and reckless and thought to myself ” I could always check pro athlete off my bucket list.”
He picked me up and made small talk while making the drive. He drove me to a Holiday Inn and immediately started trying to make out with me inside the room. Was I really kissing someone I hardly knew in a Holiday Inn.
He told me that he had to leave to get ready for a game that night and gave me a ticket to the game. Here I was, a senior in college about to graduate from one of the best schools in the nation and yet I have never felt more like a cheap hooker in my life.
Is that how easy athletes have it? A cheap hotel room, and a ticket, and they get the girl. More importantly, was I going to be that girl? Should I just leave and buy a ticket home?
I decided to go to the game. To be honest, it felt strangely empowering to be his “date” at the game. The glares from the fan girls seem to emit rays of jealousy and longing, and that made me feel good. I became that girl.
That night, I had sex with him. It felt empty and seemed to only fulfill a goal. And I only did it for a story, a story that I have not told a soul until today.