Couchsurfing Confustion

A super sketchy phone conversation

So I had one of the most sketchy phone calls I've ever experienced. It all began on my drive home from work. I swung by a friends place to drop something off. It was my luck that it happened to be right around 4:20. I've been trying to keep myself clean, but it was a happy Thursday, so I let myself indulge. Having been clear-headed for a while, it hit me a little harder than I was expecting. But it felt good.

When I got home, my youthful ward Jose asked if I could take him out to practice driving so he can take his road test already. I was cool with that. But no sooner did we pull out of the driveway than my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I figured it was probably spam, so I ignored it. But a couple minutes later a voicemail came in. It was some guy named Van who claimed to have a Couchsurfing engagement scheduled with me the next day. I had been exchanging Couchsurfing messages earlier in the week with someone named Matt who had requested he stay with me. Usually when I get requests, it's either intolerably perky co-eds, or overweight middle-aged women who need a place to stay while in town visiting someone in prison. With this recent request I checked the profile. There was only one picture, but it was of a nice looking young man with shapely upper arms hanging down from a sleeveless shirt. We messaged back and forth. He was totally low-key, agreeable to staying in my truck camper, and was even happy to bring his own sleeping bag so I didn't need to worry about bedding, and would otherwise stay out of my hair. I accepted his offer.

This voicemail though was from some old dude named Van. It was long and rambling, and he gave his phone number like 3 times, and asked that I call him back to confirm, give him my street address, etc. I was totally confused. My first theory was that some creepy old guy was using a false name and profile pic on Couchsurfing to try to lure other men into hosting him. But I didn't think Matt was coming until the following weekend. For the moment I put it out of my mind. I had to focus on giving Jose driving instructions. I figured I'd call him back when we got home.

After we got back to the house, I settled into my recliner, looking forward to a quiet evening with my young companion watching our favorite shows that we had saved on the DVR. But just as I was starting to relax, I remembered I had to call this guy back again. I was STILL really high from before. I feared that if this were some kind of imposter, the conversation could get tricky, and in my current state I wasn't cognitively prepared for any drama. But I just wanted to get it out of the way, so I sucked it up, and called him back.

The guy picked up. It was indeed some old dude named Van, and he claimed to have a reservation with me the next day. Just as soon as we started talking, my phone rang with another call. I had to try to dispatch that call so I could check Couchsurfing on my phone, all while I'm still really stoned. I sent the incoming call to voicemail, pulled up my email, and confirmed that the Couchsurfing reservation was with someone named Matt, and that it was for the following weekend. I confronted Van about it, but he didn't know what the hell I was talking about. He said, "I made this reservation months ago. I'm a screen printer in town for a knitting convention."

"Wait," I said. "Screen printer? Months ago...?" It all started coming back to me. I had a vague recollection of an interaction I'd had quite some time back. I had a passing interest in the guy because of his screen printing experience, and thought maybe he'd be interesting, and maybe I could learn something about screen printing. I scrolled past Matt's reservation, and there it was. Van had made the reservation 5 months ago. FIVE MONTHS AGO. I had totally, utterly forgotten all about it. There was the reservation, indicating that I had accepted it, but I had gotten no reminders from Couchsurfing, and the guy hadn't reached out to me to check back in until this the very night before his arrival. As if I'm some B&B and I have people coming and going every day.

At least now I knew what this was all about. But I really didn't want to deal with it. My mind was going in a million directions all at once. My life was now a billion miles away from where it had been 5 months prior, turned upside down and inside out by having Jose staying there. Plus I had plans for the weekend. On top of that, I had been staying in the guest house so that I could have 100% peace and quiet when I was trying to sleep, which was where I had told Van he could sleep. I was so not prepared to have a Couchsurfing guest that weekend. I really wanted to cancel on the guy, but I was too stoned to be able to navigate the conversation.

First I apologized for the confusion. He kind of started drilling me on it, but I defended myself by the fact that the reservation had been made 5 months ago, I hadn't heard a peep from him in the interim, and this was now taking me completely by surprise. As we started talking, I could tell that he was expecting a very involved engagement. There are two kind of Couchsurfers. There are the ones like Matt, who just need a place to crash, and are otherwise very independent. And there are the sociable types who want a Couchsurfing stay to be like visiting an old friend, where you spend the whole time together socializing and doing things. Van was clearly expecting the latter. He was talking about sharing meals and "libations." Now, it's tough for me as a deeply introverted misanthrope to spend a whole weekend with even good friends and family. The prospect of entertaining a complete stranger for a whole weekend was not something I was interested in. Particularly with some dweeb who uses words like "libations." But I had committed to this all those months back.

The conversation promptly went totally off the rails. Here I am, still stoned out of my mind, trying to talk with a stranger about a commitment I had totally forgotten about and really wanted to ditch. What's worse is that whatever minimal social filter I had as a younger man had already started fading away in my old age, and when I'm stoned it basically goes away altogether. I'm trying to navigate this uncomfortable conversation with my frank and unprocessed stream of consciousness flowing out unabated. And disorganized. Now throw into the mix that when I'm stoned, I second-guess every damn thing I say, and change my mind a dozen times within the span of a single sentence.

The first order of business was the sleeping arrangements. I told Van that the guest house was no longer available, but that he could stay in my truck camper. He was immediately reluctant at that prospect. So I said okay, I had committed to the guest house, so he could have it and I'd figure out where to sleep. Then there was the whole social aspect of the weekend. I said that I'm not generally as social as other Couchsurfers, and usually just let them do their own thing. Van didn't know what to make of this. I had absolutely no recollection of the content of our interaction 5 months ago, and if I had set an expectation that I would be a gregarious host, but that was clearly what Van was expecting.

I said, "Well, first of all, I'm a recovering alcoholic, so 'libations' won't be in the picture. Beyond that, I'm not much of a restaurant person, but if you wanted to go out for meal I guess we could go to the local diner or something."

Van was like, "A diner. Okaaaaay...." I could tell things were not playing out anything like what he was expecting. "Is this what your other Couchsurfing stays have been like?"

I told him I hadn't had a lot of other people stay with me, and those who did basically just used it for a bunk and left me alone. The poor guy. I'm sure all his other Couchsurfing stays were effusively social, and he was expecting me to be like, "Hey! Yeah, c'mon over! We'll have a fabulous time." And here I am stuttering and stammering through the conversation like I'm an unhinged schizophrenic or something.

It was also around this time that I remembered what that incoming call was all about. I had arranged with my fraternity brother Ziggy to discuss some organizational matters right at the time the phone had rung. Oh god. So not only am I stuck in this distressing conversation with Van, but now I need to get him off the line so I can call Ziggy back and apologize to him. I was caught in a nightmare.

So Van is still trying to make headway with me. He mentioned how he had been to my website, seen my photography and read my stories, and how he feels like he already knows me. Now it started to click with me a little better. He had an image of me as the persona that I've created on my website through my nude self-portraiture, film festival videos, and deeply personal and revealing autobiographical essays. And he was looking forward to spending the weekend with that persona. He went on. "And I see you're a member of the Gay Nudist group on Couchsurfing. I want you to know I'm okay with that lifestyle. And I'm keen to join in if that's where things go."

"Yeah," I retorted. "I don't think it's going there." I was now totally beside myself. I've got this old gay dude who wants to come and get naked with the guy he thinks he knows from the internet. I really want to get out of this whole weekend thing, but I had agreed to host him. I basically resigned myself to the fact that I would have to go through with it, and I figured I'd try to make the best of it. So I try to get some idea of when he's arriving, but he's being really cagey about it. Every question I ask, he answers with his own question. Every time I try to answer, he reacts like it's not the answer he wants. So I give him the other answer, and he still act's like it's not what he wants. And I'm getting to the point I just don't know what to do. Finally I tell him, "Look, I should be home from work by 5:30 or so. You get here whenever you get here, and we'll just figure out what's going on once you arrive." He's still totally hedging. But I can't let this keep going. "Look, I really have to go. Okay? Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Okay. Okay. Bye. Bye."

Finally he says goodbye. I look down at my phone to hang up so I can call Ziggy back. Then I hear Van say half under his breath, "Creep." I figured he hadn't hung up either, but thought he had, and didn't think I could hear. But I totally could. His candid response as soon as he got off the phone with me was to say to himself that I'm a creep. I laughed out loud. Hard. And long. Right into the phone. I couldn't blame the guy. I had been a scatter-brained, discombobulated, semi-deranged freak through the whole conversation. But to catch him actually saying it totally cracked me up.

I called him out on it. "Dude!" I exclaimed. "I can't believe you just called me a creep."

"What?" Van asked. He was still on the line.

"I just heard you call me a creep when you thought I couldn't hear. If that's how you feel, we don't have to do this. You don't have to go through with it."

I forget exactly how he replied. Not only was I still wicked stoned, but now adrenaline was surging through my brain. But I made it plainly clear that I really wasn't feeling the whole thing, and if it were up to me I'd call it off. He said fine, let's do that. This time we both actually did hang up for real.

As soon as I put the phone down I started roaming through the house, ranting, "OH MY F*CKING GOD THAT WAS THE MOST SKETCHY F*CKING PHONE CONVERSATION I'VE EVER HAD IN MY ENTIRE F*CKING LIFE!!!!!" Jose is looking at me like I'm nuts. But what was worse, I now had to call Ziggy back. I really just wanted to relax with my companion in front of the DVR like I had when I first got home and sat down. But beyond that, I was still way too stoned, and way too unsettled to discuss the complex, weighty, and potentially touchy matters that I was to have been discussing with him. But I had no choice. I had to call him back. I couldn't blow it off.

So I dialed him back. He answered all chipper. "Hello Mr. Christopher W. Brown SIR!" he said. I apologized for having missed the call, and then apologized as profusely as I could that I would not be able to have the conversation as we planned. I could tell he was annoyed. Not angry really, but annoyed. But at that time there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I simply couldn't talk any more. I had to take my lumps. I apologized again. And again. And finally got off the phone with him.

Finally I could relax. Or try to. The whole situation(s) stayed on my mind the rest of the night. Frankly, I don't think I'll ever forget it.

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