Why's There Even You and Me? A Personal Diversion

Obama still ba-rocks and McCain still, um ... is a dick. Okay. That's the extent of my political rumination today. Although I may be totally off on both counts, I wouldn't know. I honestly paid zero attention to realpolitik today so I have no clue what might have happened really.

I have other more personal and most disconcerting things on my mind. I'm kind of creeped out.

I have a stalker ... don't laugh. I really do. I think his name is Mike but I'm not even sure about that. He was probably lying when I asked, whatever the hell it was he said, but that's what I think I remember. I was drunk at the time.

Admittedly my fault. I'm an idiot sometimes, no new tale to tell there.

I don't recall exactly how I met the guy in the first place - it was a couple of years ago - but I do know that I willingly gave up my address. With directions, no less. Just in case. Damn the hooch. What was I thinking?

Anyway, so here's the deal. I had him over a time or two early on, no big thing (take that however you wish) but then pretty much blew him off (again, take that however.)

Not long thereafter the phone calls began. Incessantly. All night long, every few minutes.

I think the most I counted one night on the caller ID was twenty-six, between like 1 a.m. and 6 a.m. An occassional message left, very dirty boy that Mike.

Night after night, so I started unplugging the phone before going to bed. Of course then when I tested out that the calling had finally ended, I all of a sudden felt totally abandoned and cast aside!

So I called him in a brain fart moment from my cell phone and back to square one we were, now with both voice and text messaging.

Whatever, I'll confess to episodic moronity.

Finally fed up (after a few more permitted visits, no judgements please) I mandated an end to all contact. I suppose I had proved to myself in my own head my stalkworthiness - major ego boost! - and still my ability to maintain complete control of the situation. So that was done with.

Then not that long ago at the ungodly hour of six in the morning (I usually turn in around four-ish) relentless pounding at my front door. He was baaaaack! I tried to ignore it and fall back to sleep with pillow over my head.

The crackpot sat then in my driveway for at least the next half hour calling every thirty seconds or so. Yikes. He finally left.

After a few days passed without incident I figured my point had been made, but then just the other night around 10:30 p.m. he was back knock knock knocking at my door and when unanswered, tried to force his way inside!

Totally pissed off at that point (and I do have a temper, pushed far enough) I scared the piss out of the little guy when I flung open the door and laid into him with words I didn't even know I knew - and me one who usually prides himself on being pretty well-versed in all things profane. I think I even made some up. He hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell.

Now though just days later, I find myself again suffering legion nightly calls, the oh-so-not-suitable-for-prime-time messages both voicemail and text, and somewhat afeard that he might likely soon return predisposed to seeking some sort of stalkerish revenge.

Last night I finally at least texted him back and lied that I had company. I also mentioned too that he was one weird little dude. In retrospect, probably not the smartest thing to say to a psycho.

Like I said, I'm pretty creeped out. But even with all things considered, I can't deny that I am still for whatever reason pervertedly flattered by such attention.

I try to convince myself that I'm the one calling the shots, despite my wiser inner self telling me that maybe, well, not so much.

Firearms or any variety of sharp and pointy objects in the hands of the stalker could very easily sway the balance of presumed power here, I know that.

But somehow I expect that I might just have him back for a visit soon, by invitation even, just to keep things interesting. With fingers crossed, of course. That's how weird I am, folks. The sex ain't so bad and he likes me, he really likes me!

Like this song by my hometown boys Puddle of Mudd asks, "I can't control you, you can't control me ... so why's there even you and me?"

I wish I knew the answer to that one. My stalker is actually kind of cute, though. That must count for something.

Puddle of Mudd - Control