In my early twenties, I occasionally babysat a set of twins on weekends. Their mother was extremely attractive, and she was constantly on dates.
One night, she told me she had met a guy and was going on a date with him. She left around 6 p.m., promising to return around midnight. It’s almost 1 a.m., and I’d like to know if she’s running late. 2 a.m., 3 a.m…
I keep calling her, and eventually, her phone goes to voice mail. I woke up at 7 a.m., and she still hasn’t returned. I finally found the grandparents’ phone number in an address book. I phoned her parents, and they didn’t seem bothered. They just look annoyed as if this is business as usual, but they say they’ll come over to sit with the twins so I can leave.
I phoned the non-emergency police number and explained the situation and the fact that the grandparents were on their way. I wait another hour, then she arrives in a men’s t-shirt and heels, giggling. She jokingly says, “Oh my God! “Call the police!” I never sat for her again. She ended up staying with him all night and turning off her phone so she wouldn’t be bothered. She honestly expected me to disregard it as if it were no big issue.