There are so many rules to dating now. Who pays the check? Do you offer to go Dutch? After what date is it OK to start sexting? How many times do you have to go out before you can invite someone home? You never know what is going to offend someone, or what might give them the wrong impression or if they might become a stalker.
That is where this story begins. The sad part is, it wasn’t even someone I was dating or interested in dating for that matter. I was living with my ex-fiancée, happy to be out of the dating scene and not having to deal with any wierdos. My ex had just started a new job and began telling me stories of this poor pathetic sap of a guy. He had no friends, no car and basically, no life. So my ex, being the big softy that he was decides to befriend the guy. Help him out. Picks him up for work, gives him an old TV we had in the garage & brings him to the house to hang out from time to time after their meetings. I was cordial but the guy gave me a bad vibe so I avoided him if I could. Eventually the friendship faded and “creepy guy” slithered back to where ever it was he came from.
I never even gave him a second thought once my ex and I parted ways……Until he showed up at my door one afternoon several years later. My very lovely, dumb, trusting daughter opened the door and let him know that I wasn’t home at the time but I would be home around 6. (Trust me; I wasn’t happy about that scenario). She lets me know what’s going on when I get home from work and I try to figure out what the hell this guy wants and how I’m going to get rid of him before he even shows up.
Six o’clock rolls around, nothing. Six-thirty, seven, seven-thirty, nothing. Awesome! I’m off the hook! I lecture my daughter about opening the door when I’m not home and slip into my jammies.
Ding-Dong. Damn.
I open the door. In my pajamas because I’m hoping this will give creepy guy the hint that I’m not up for entertaining. Apparently they don’t teach common sense at creepy school. I stand in the doorway and chat with him for a few minutes about what he’s been doing with himself since he crawled back out from under his rock and what happened between me and my ex. And then he asks to come in.
CRAP. I tell him that it’s late and that another time would be better. He tells me some sob story and of course I let him in. I’m such a sucker. I sit on the couch across from him and listen to the story and I guess he decides he’s comfortable and puts his hand on my thigh. Ewwww! I jump off the couch and tell him he needs to leave. He agrees to leave but asks if he can call me sometime. At this point I just want him gone so I give him my number and send him on his way. What’s the big deal? I can just ignore his calls and eventually he’ll get the hint. Right?
WRONG. He calls all hours of the day and night, incessantly, for weeks on end. I pick up the phone a few times and tell him I’m not really interested and ask him politely not to call. This doesn’t work. I tell him if he keeps calling I’m going to change my number. This doesn’t work. One of the times he called I happen to be at my best friend’s house. My phone rings and she sees me roll my eyes. I tell her “it’s him.” This brings sheer delight to her face. She picks up the phone and lets him have it. She essentially tells him that he is a low life pathetic loser and that we’re gathering all my phone records and that I’m turning them into the cops to bring him up on harassment charges. To which he tells her this would be impossible because we are actually in a sexual relationship.
WHAT? Roll the train back to crazy town sucka. There are one or two people that I have slept with that I would have LIKED to have forgotten about, but to forget about an entire relationship? Um, I don’t think so. At this point Wendy starts feeding me the details of our supposed illicit affair and I erupt in laughter as Wendy finishes humiliating him. Now I’m not usually the type to let someone else do my dirty work but when you’re having an entire relationship in the confines of someone else’s mind, I guess it helps to have someone else’s voice inside your head to put things into perspective. Thankfully, Wendy is a little more persuasive than I am and he starts to leave me alone. But every once in a blue moon, in the middle of the night, I’ll get a knock on my door and I know that the crazy train has left the station again and is trying to roll back into my hood. No thanks, this station is closed until further notice.
