For several months during my misspent youth I worked a second job waiting tables at a neighborhood bar and grill. After finishing up one Friday night, all the closers went out for a drink. Somehow Mike the bartender and I ended up being the last ones there, and we subsequently left together.

I must have enjoyed his company at the time, or at the very least not minded it. This was back when a 14400 modem was cutting-edge technology, and you were either on AOL or Compuserve. He was new to the internet, and I agreed to help him set up his AOL account since I had been online for months already and considered myself a chat room expert. I think that’s how it all got started. At the time I thought I wanted to be a bartender and he was a bartender, so I’m pretty sure that had something to do with it as well because Mike wasn’t all that attractive. He wasn’t ugly; he just wasn’t really my type. There was a certain coarseness about him I didn’t particularly like. And a funky mustache. But I was young and horny.

Anyway, that night we ended up back at my place and started fooling around. I remember really getting into it and enjoying myself immensely. Then he did asshole thing #1 and tried to slip it in without covering it up. I promptly pushed him away and handed him a condom. To his credit, he put it on without protest, so we continued. I mounted him and things really got going. I could tell I was building up to a biggie, and that was making me more excited by the second. Right as I was on the cusp of climax, Mike all of a sudden rolled me onto my back into missionary position, which totally threw me off my rhythm. “Wait, why I don’t get to be on top anymore?!” I gasped, and in two thrusts he was done. The bastard totally left me hanging. So that was asshole thing #2. I waited a few minutes for him to compose himself, thinking he’d realize that there was still work to do here and would go down on me or at the very least use his fingers, but he made no move in my direction. Yep, asshole thing #3. So, resolving that I wouldn’t ever be having sex with him again, I went to the bathroom and took care of myself. He was passed out in my bed when I returned. I don’t know why I didn’t boot him to the door at that point, but you know, sleeping dogs and all that, so he stayed the night. The next morning I had to get up at the crack of dawn and go to work, so I left him there. Thankfully he was gone when I got back home, but not without changing all the settings on my clock radio. Under normal circumstances I’d probably let that one go, but I’m on a roll here, so let’s just go ahead and call it asshole thing #4.

As luck would have it, we were both on the closers list the following night. It was a super-busy Saturday shift, so avoiding conversation with Mike was easy. I was exhausted from closing 2 nights in a row and working my day job in between. I was seriously looking forward to going home and getting some sleep, but Mike was waiting for me in the parking lot. Ugh. I couldn’t avoid it. I had to deal with him. I was all prepared to tell him that we could just be friends or whatever, but before I could even say hello he started rambling on excitedly about how he was off the next day and brought a change of clothes with him. I didn’t even know what the heck he was going on about at first. It actually took me a few seconds to realize that the presumptuous jerk intended to spend the night with me again. Without any prior arrangement! Yep, that would be asshole thing #5. He then started going on about how he couldn’t get back to sleep after I left that morning–I guess he figured screwing around with my preprogramed radio stations would somehow help–when I finally clued in and cut him off, saying that I was worn out and going home ALONE to SLEEP.

After about a week or so of me pretty much avoiding him at work and ignoring his emails, Mike decided to put the moves on one of the hostesses. I was relieved. That is, until some of the other guys at work started teasing me about getting dumped. Wait, what? Yeah, all the male servers thought I was head over heels infatuated with him or something based on his delusional version of the story, which he apparently shared freely with plenty of details. This is asshole thing #6, by the way. When I confronted him about it, he actually had the nerve to deny ever saying anything, implying the other guys just made it all up, and he even went so far as to make empty threats to thrash whoever was “running their mouth.”

After that I refused to have anything more to do with him, so I don’t know if Mike even realized the extent of his assholery. I always thought people were on their best behavior at the start of any new relationship, but was that really the best he could do? Like everything else, my encounter with him was a learning experience. Since I believe that in most cases you deserve what you tolerate, I established my own zero tolerance policy on assholes. In the interest of sharing life experience for the benefit of others, I present you with a few tips on how not to be an asshole, based on Mike’s mistakes. Of course, this is by no means a comprehensive list. Please feel free to leave comments with your own.

1. Be a considerate lover. This includes, but is not limited to, the following:
a) Always make sure your partner enjoys it at least as much as you. Pay attention to body language, vocal cues, and responses instead of just blindly pleasing yourself then considering the job done.
b) Recognize when more effort is required and then willingly put in the overtime.
c) If you’re not in a fluid-bonded relationship, use protection without having to be reminded.

2. Respect people’s personal space. Don’t mess around with their stuff without asking.

3. Never presume anything.

4. Don’t gossip to mutual friends, especially if the tale you tell has very little basis in truth.