I have a friend with fairly questionable tastes. She's someone who was like a sister to me growing up, so it puts me in the difficult position of "I don't want to cut you out of my life but I'm tired of hearing about your dd/lg relationship, how much you want your daddy's 'yummy cummies,' and about your various furry fetishes." She has no filter.
Back before I had realized just how far down the fetish smorgasbord rabbit hole she had fallen, she took it upon herself to introduce a single friend of her then-boyfriend's to me, and I--with a bit of apprehension I couldn't explain at the time, but ultimately shrugged away as my being silly--agreed.
His name was Draven. He wore a top hat, a hot topic trenchcoat, and walked with one of those shitty canes you get at Spencer's. The kind with the dragon heads on top? Grabbed my hand awkwardly and kissed it messily. Refused to let it go.
"Tell me about yourself," he demanded. He spoke with an odd affected accent I couldn't even describe, and was never consistent.
I told him I was 19 and in college. And, without prompting, he interrupted me with an "I'm 33. Did [friend's name] tell you about our coven? You have a wonderful energy and I'd love for you to join us."
Yes. Eight years ago, I met a Real Vampire at a nightclub.
He followed me around for the next hour, making awkward small talk, and word-vomiting information about his "diet" and other such "I'm totally a vampire Avian look at all this vampire information I have about vampires!!" things before I managed to duck into a bathroom and hide out there for a bit. It was then that my presumably well-meaning friend gave him my phone number.
For the roughly three months it took him to finally understand that I wanted nothing to do with him, he constantly texted me and called me at odd hours. "No you don't understand!! I have to call you around 2-3am that's when I wake up!!!!"
Also he slept with a knife under his pillow and liked to talk about that a lot.