First, I want to thank those of you who joined me in bashing the season premiere of The Bachelor last night! I honestly can’t believe I’m subjecting myself to the torture that is The Bachelor…but I figure in reality, I have no life, and I could always use a reminder that men suck.
If you weren’t around last night, be sure to tune in next Monday, follow me @cocktailsattiff and jump on in the bash session using #thebachelor
Trust me, this season has some craaaaazzyyyy girls. I honestly don’t understand where ABC finds all these tricks.
Anyway, back in real life, writer guy is back, only he has a new name: Stalker Guy.
If you remember correctly, I hadn’t heard from him in almost two months, after I stopped replying to his emails and texts because his book was fucking weird. But, I have become a wise woman, learning through years of dating straight-up psychos. I knew he’d be back.
And so, there I was enjoying an afternoon at the movies (The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo…ugh raise your hand if you have a girl-crush on Rooney Mara! meeeeee) when I checked my phone.
Who do I see a text from? Oh THAT GUY who tried to put it up my ass this summer and who has a girlfriend. He was all “Hello Ms Lucky.”
I ignored it and went back to paying attention.
About an hour later, I looked at my phone again (it was a 3 hour movie) and see another text. I assume it was from the cheater, but nope…writer turned stalker guy.
“Hey lady! How was ur Xmas?”
UGH. What the fuck was in the air? Two guys I didn’t care to hear from EVER, and they both texted me in the same hour.
Back to the movie.
But when I left the theatre and started my walk home, I decided to see where this interesting trail would lead me. A horrible idea, indeed.
We’ll start with the cheater.
Cheater: How r u
ME: Good, you?
Cheater: Good. Military life is nice. U still in town?
Cheater: U seem busy. I’ll let u go.
Classic move. Making me out to be the bad guy so I’ll respond and be all, OH NO I’M NOT BUSY AT ALL, WHY DON’T YOU COME OVER AND PUT IT IN MY ASS AGAIN?
Not falling for that shit, so I don’t reply and move onto the next: Writer turned Stalker Guy.
ME: Good, yours?
WTSG: Good but no family. So not super.
Aaaaaand awesome, Debbie Downer. WAMP! WAMP! Like if anyone is a pro at killing a conversation, it’s THAT guy.
I don’t reply.
The next day…
WTSG: Hey I’m thinking of getting a place in ur complex. U like ur apt? Is it worth it? Ur in a studio right? I’m going to set up an appt so I can look at one. What’s ur rent?
ME: They will give you all the numbers when you see the leasing agent.
WTSG: How are u overall?
ME: Great, you?
WTSG: Getting it together.
WTSG: It’s just been a strange month.
Aaaand I don’t respond. Once again, this dude has killed the conversation. Debbie Fucking Downer. Like really guy, you stopped talking to me for two months so you could whine to me? Eh, buh bye.
The next night, around 10:30 pm…
WTSG: Got an appt tomorrow at 1:30 for the tour!!
I don’t reply. Instead, I log onto Facebook, block him, check the locks on my front door, turn off all of the lights, put away my phone, and crawl as far as possible under the covers.
Maybe, I thought, I’m reading too much into this. Was he really taking the tour, or was he just saying that so I’d be all, “OH AWESOME DO YOU WANT TO GET LUNCH AFTER? MAYBE YOU CAN DO ME AND THEN WE CAN DO SOME YOGA AND THEN KILL OURSELVES?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??”
I don’t know. Either way, I didn’t leave my apartment the next day in fear of running into him. But it ain’t over yet.
Although he was able to hold out and not text me new year’s eve, he sent me a message the next day, “U had a good new years?”
I didn’t respond. I’m really hoping he just goes away.
And my New Years? It’s a much bigger story I’ll share Thursday.