The Almost Stalker Part 2

In the late AM hours on Christmas day, who's number graces my screen? My Almost Stalker. Who leaves a message stating that calling me had been a mistake, but since he did he might as well wish me a very Merry Christmas. I think I may have given myself a headache from the face palm that followed. I didn't reciprocate his holiday wishes, nor did I hear from him again until I contacted him again to confirm our date. (Yes, I was carrying on. Mostly for you, dear readers.) We confirmed a time, but an actual plan for the evening was up in the air. Monday drew to an end and I reached out to AS to figure out where we would meet and what shenanigans we would have.


Hey, any thoughts on what you want to do tonight?

Maybe the movies? I got twenty bucks to kill.

Perhaps. Anything in particular you want to see? I can't do a super late showing I need to be up early for work tomorrow.

Creepiest cricket ever.

That was that. I proceeded to have a quiet evening at home with cats and holiday cookies. I didn't contact him again due to Rule #2 - Thou shalt not chase. The following day, I regaled my close friends with the absurd tale of being pursued so doggedly only to be stood up. My friends wanted to find meaning in his actions. There was no grand scheme behind what he did and did not do. Either he wasn't as into me as he led me to believe or he was a man who liked to play at having a relationship without actually doing anything to have one.

A good laugh was had by all for one week. At the end of that week, a familiar number popped up, interrupting my Ke$ha jam session. I, of course, let the call go to voice mail. Almost Stalker apparently had been stewing on the date that wasn't. He proceeded to leave me a three and a half minute voice mail profusely apologizing, telling me how wonderful I am and how I deserved better than he, and blaming the missed date on him taking a sleeping pill.

It was in a word, brilliant. Ten minutes later, he calls again. This time leaving a very abrupt and cold message. Clearly irked that I didn't pick up the call after I screened the first one. He explained how he wasn't going to bother me anymore, but if I had enough compassion in my heart, he would like to have one last conversation with me. Unbeknownst to him, my heart contains little more than a dusting of platelets and whatever the song of the moment is. And currently it's not 'Hungry Like the Wolf.'

Lesson learned? If someone tells you that the day their car literally caught fire was an amazing day, back away slowly.