He who Departed, Farted and other Times We Protest Too Much — an Addendum to Why I am Not A Stalker

You might say: I must have been a lawyer in my past life.  Who else uses words like addendum? But it’s another fun word to say. Go ahead. Say it. Every story has another branch story. And here is one on stalking….  (here is your tune…”You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon)

One time when I was younger and single I was asked to meet some friends for beach volleyball and drinks after work. The invitation came from a married lawyer friend I worked with and his wife.    No I don’t volley the ball with my boobage but I was single and my mom said to get out.  So I did. At the drinks part I noticed a VERY cute guy with nice longish brown hair. My fav at the time.  He was also a lawyer and funny.  We enjoyed some good convo and at the end of the night I wished I could see him again. I knew where he worked but had no real way to run into him again.

After a few days I thought I would invite the married couple over for dinner with some other single and married friends and I would invite this guy to join the group.  In fact I would even invite him to join us with a date or friend so it would not appear as though I was in any way asking him out.  I wanted to be as cool as possible.  And I really thought I was.  I called his office and left a voicemail saying I was having small dinner party – not couples but that his good friends who were a couple would be there.  In other words, not everyone there would be with a date.  I also said he was free to bring a date or a friend or two.  I didn’t of course say all of that but it was the clear import of the message.

So my first mistake was probably to leave a message at all.  Dumb move.  If you leave someone a message you don’t ever know whether they got it and are ignoring you.  Or they never got it because a) they travel for business; b) are in trial; c) have their assistant or secretary check their voicemail…. or d) it never even recorded correctly.  The person might also have gotten it and not be the type to R.S.V.P. and would just appear…. There are many factors – although dear reader you might be thinking “He’s just not that into you. Duh.”  I think in retrospect I would just simply go with that interpretation but…live and learn.  Aren’t you lucky you can do it through me without all the pain?

What I did, dear reader, was to ring him later in the week – again leaving a voicemail at his work (I know, again dumb…. and please don’t be so mean when you are reading this…do you know how hard it is to write this honestly blog friends?)  Yes, I called and left a very short message saying “Hi, I hope you got my earlier message this week and your friends are coming and if you are joining us please let me know and also if you are bringing a date or friends, can you please tell me how many so I know how much food and drink.  Thanks!”  Anyway – in my world this was nice and welcoming.  Not creepy.  But apparently I am not from this era.

I was upbeat and friendly and non-pushy.  I remember a “Sex and the City” episode where Cari and Miranda analyzed the shit out of a short voicemail that said some thing like “call me.”  Was it “CALL me” or “call ME”? Did it mean I will be calling you or could it mean you should always call me?  The interpretation was long and way more analysis then such a terse message might merit but that’s what we gals who think too much do.

Anyway – the anticipation is killing you, I know.  No.  He never called me back.  Never.  And he never came to the party.

But that is not the end of this bloggasaga.  It gets worse.  At work one day the next week, in comes this guy who happens to sport a really bad hairpiece (but that isn’t part of this story its just how I see him when I remember the heinous words that came out of his mouth). And he sits down all smug and smiling in this really condescending sort of way and says…”So what’s with you stalking so and so?”


OMG OMG OMG.  Apparently his wife worked in the same law firm with Mr. Cutie Pie who was now Mr. Rude-lard-ass Egomaniac guy.

What on earth do you mean?  I invited the guy to a party.  I told him he could bring a date.  That is hardly stalking the guy.  He was rude and never R.S.V.P.ed and I would hardly call that stalking.  But I was truly embarrassed and mortified and that taught me to obey “The Rules”.  Remember that book?  if not — here is the link:



I had a friend who obeyed these “Rules” and she always had “the guy”.  I kept thinking I could transcend those rules.  After all, I am young, attractive, smart and professional.  This ain’t the 50s…..HA!

Joke was on me it turns out.  You know what? I am here to tell you.  Those friggi’n rules.  They work.  Guys do not want you to be a little man.  Guys do not want to be chased.  Guy want to feel like they got something they worked hard to get.  Guys want to be pursuing YOU.  Guys want to feel when they finally get “it” that they earned “it.”  And if guys tell you otherwise….no siree.  Maybe the girly man.  But not most guys.  Not the ones you wanna, you know…er…you know, be with.

Okay…so here is where the story gets a bit funnier.  At the time I lived in an apartment.  Underneath me lived this skinny tall blond girl.  That type that is frankly everything I am not.  This girl had a GOLD Pontiac Fiero (yuck) with a vanity plate.  Please see my blog post on things that bug me wherein I specify “vanity plates” as one of those items.  To make matters worse, her plate said “14KT GRL” Urgh.  Why not 18 carat girl.  Why not 24 carat girl.  She wasn’t even bright enough to be making herself more carats?  But she did look good in a bikini.

One weekend shortly after said mortifying incident wherein I was improperly called a stalker I was at my community pool.  And guess who was there?  Mr. Rude-lard-ass Egomaniac with his date: 14 carat girl!!!!!


But instead I left the pool.  And everytime I ran into the two of them – which I did for the next year since he was practically living with the goldmine downstairs, I wanted to say, “I live here…I live here.  That’s my apartment.  It’s not about you.”

Okay – maybe I protest too much.

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