The Stalker, His Colostomy Bag, and Broccoli

Okay…

pause…reflect on the title…

Sounds crazy right ?...

…well that’s how it’s gonna end too…

So he was one of those Leo’s who I tell not to even approach me but who does so anyway…because…well….he ‘is different than all other Leo’s…’

And mostly…out of the sheer boredom of my days…I give him my number…

Phone call number 1:     I sit, mouth agape, as he tells me within the first 20 minutes of conversation, allowing no time for interruption, that about 12 years ago he was bleeding from his ‘booty hole’ for days on end and then ‘when it started pouring’ he went to the emergency room, where he was diagnosed with colon rectal cancer.

Now I know this is going to sound harsh…but…I decided right then and there I would not be sleeping with him…

He continues with:          1)how he sleeps on pads to catch the liquid that leaks out of his bag

 2) how he circumvented the disability system and doesn’t work but collects a disability check and

3) he lives with his mommy…

When he did pause, I asked my first question: “Isn’t that too much information to share within the first few minutes of meeting someone?’

He said ‘no because I’ve talked to people for days and then tell them and then next sound I hear is a dial tone…’

Me:   People hang up on you?...like just hang up?

He said ‘Yes’.

Here is where I should say that one of my many quirks in life is inappropriate…or maybe untimely laughter…

So I laughed at the rudeness of someone actually having the gall to hang up after hearing the word ‘booty hole’ from a grown man…

I said’ have you ever thought of softening up(gulp) the way you share this information…it’s kinda harsh…and graphic…’

He thinks this over for a second and says…”I guess…’(I find it hard to believe that no one has offered this suggestion.)

Our conversation continues…I slip into street psychologist mode and ask questions that he very eager to answer…

I learn that his father had passed away of throat cancer and that my new Leo friend then picked up the habit of smoking…the longest girl friend he had had since the cancer diagnosis was 9 months…when you have a colostomy bag broccoli is NOT your friend, you wake up with a balloon of gas…

After these tidbits I decide I need to go to sleep…he asks if he will ever speak to me again…when I say ‘of course’ I am NOT lying…

HOWEVER…when I get off the phone I think…something isn’t right…the graphic information…the inability to use age appropriate words…the sharing so soon…

When I wake up the next morning the street psychologist in me has decided that we will continue talking to this guy…because…he needs a friend? We conclude that that is why he was divulging so much information…he doesn’t have human contact…and while we(as I continue to talk about my self in second person and a little of third...) have concluded that he must NEVER actually touch me…I would be a set of ears for this starving man…

So I call him the next day…we were on the phone for all of maybe 30 seconds before he made an irritating comment.

I told him I was getting off the phone.

That’s the night the phone calls began…many many many phone calls…enough phone calls to confirm  that he needs a lobotomy…

This went on for two weeks…many many phone calls….a few too many emails…all went unanswered by me.

Sound rude?

Not if you are a street psychologist…if you are a street psychologist you know that once someone has crossed the border of ‘many many phone calls’ there is no reasoning or logic going to be had in a ‘closure’ conversation…

Then nothing…I really forgot all about the guy…except…and only when the word broccoli comes up in conversation…

Then one day…a bizarre text message. Actully it wasn’t bizarre, but because I didn’t recognize the number I assumed it was a misdirected text message; meant for another phone number.

The message said : She told me to leave you alone but what did I do wrong?

So I deleted it.

A few minutes later another text came through: WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?

I call the number attached to the text. When a male voice answers I say ; who is this?

He answers: The guy with the colostomy bag.(the fact that this is his self title...uhhhh yeah...)

I said ‘Why are you contacting me?’

He begins…’well I never got a chance to really talk to you…we only talked for like 30 minutes and then I never heard from you again…’

I said:  ‘Ohhhhhhhhkay???... Please do not contact me anymore. Don’t call me. Don’t email me. Don’t text me.’

I hung up.

About 15 minutes later he sent another text. It was a picture of me lifted from a social website.

That unnerved me.

 I sent him a text:     I don’t know if you know the laws regarding harassment so I am going to ask you one more time to not contact me. Don’t email me. Don’t call me. Don’t text me.

He texts back : Whatever.

That night the” 438 AM unidentified caller/withheld info’ calls began.”

Started crazy. Ending crazy.(still...and it's been three months now...)

The Color Brown

Last year around this time...My son and I went to a UPS store near my house to fax a letter...

There was this outstanding good looking guy working...tall, hot chocolate colored, just handsome standing in all brown attire.

He, in fact, looked a lot like Charles, The Cute Leo, Aka Niko’s dad.

Mr. UPS starts asking me about Niko's age, who was just beginning to walk. I think I answered by saying that Niko’s birthday had just passed or was coming up…I said, 'Luckily for me, he was born just in time not to be a Leo'

Mr. UPS said, 'What's wrong with Leo's?? I'm a Leo...'

I tell him I am allergic to Leos(deciding to leave the word ‘disdain’ out of conversation). I tell him that my dating profile(s) state: 'no Leo's need apply'. I continue by saying, “I think [Leos] are arrogant.”

He’s astounded by my opinion. He says 'Wow...well do you think that about me?'

I say, 'Well...don't know you but I would think that since you are asking me, a total stranger, this question...yes...you are arrogant...'

He turns to his co-workers and says, 'This lady says all Leo's are arrogant...you guys am I arrogant?'

In unison, his co-workers answered, 'Dude...yes!!!"

With that confirmation I felt invincible but confused…here I was feeling drawn to a….ughhh…Leo.

I find out his birthday is a day after Niko's dad. I find this fact mildly comical. Mr. UPS finishes my transaction.

I go home and call up a girlfriend.

From the moment I leave the store til the moment I am on the phone with my friend my feelings for the UPS man have grown and at this juncture I am all IN LOVE with him.

I am in the midst of giving her a blow by blow account of the magic that just transpired at the UPS store, when my phone rings.

I at the caller ID and it's a number I don't know...now normally, I don’t answer unknown numbers(don’t judge me)...

This time I instantly know it's the UPS guy...

I answer the phone and it's him...and he says,”[you]  left the copy of your fax here do you want it or would you like for us to destroy it?”

Inwardly I know this is his excuse to call me…because that’s how Leo’s operate.

I tell him that I would like my copy and he tells me to stop in anytime to pick up the fax. He throws in that he gets off at six but that ‘anyone could help you.’

Inwardly I think him telling me he gets off at six is code for, "I needed a reason to call you. I found one. So come back to the UPS store so we can get married."

 
When I tell my girlfriend, who was still waiting on the other telephone line…when I tell her that the phone call was the UPS Guy…she insists that I am lying.

We giggle like elementary school girls and plan the color scheme of my impending wedding.

Very shortly thereafter I have to get off the phone with her…for I need to plan my picking- up- a- copy- of- a- fax wardrobe…

I spend the next few minutes…okay, about 20 minutes, combing my hair, reapplying eyeliner, slipping on some high heel shoes.

I drive back to the store, and there he is is…in all of his hot chocolate brown glory helping another customer unload a truck…he never even noticed me…

Or my…eyeliner…or high heels…

I hate the color brown.

He's An Automatic No if...

It has been written in all of the history books; if you make a woman laugh, her panties will fall quickly...

David* was really funny...kinda hard on the eyes but the kinda funny without even trying to be funny...
He could order a pizza with extra cheese and soon people would be rolling on the floor in hysterics...

We dated many, many, many times before he made any attempt to kiss me...and during those times I wasn't as brazen as I am now a days...so I waited for a flicker of...passion...on his part.
The first time we kissed I never wanted to stop...
The last time we kissed I asked how he became such a good kisser...it was a question I wasn't expecting an answer to...
He said he was breastfed til the age of 9...years...
I thought he was joking so I laughed...until he told me he was serious...

179 Reasons to Love Me, Part 6

Twice between dates 3 and 10, I tried to break things off with Underwear Guy.

I realized some things he was doing and saying didn’t have “future” in it…meaning when he talked about the life he wanted for himself it didn’t include a significant other.

One night we were playing darts and I asked if he thought he would ever marry again…he looked heavenward and answered, “Do we have to have this conversation now?”

A couple of days later, over the phone, I reluctantly told him that I felt that we were in different stages of want…as far as relationships go.

I told him that while I fine with dating, I didn’t want to date someone whose end goal isn’t marriage.

He said okay.

A few days passed and he called me up. He said, “I really want to see where this leads…”

One night Underwear Guy called. “I know it’s mid week but is there any way you can meet me out tonight…I had a very tough day and I just want to be with you…

Minutes later he called me back to say I would be meeting his best friend, who would be joining us too.

So we meet at his favorite watering hole…His friend is a cynical, single millionaire. I instantly bond with him. We all hang for a while but then Jaded Millionaire can no longer tolerate Underwear Guy and I gazing deeply into each other’s eyes; he leaves.

Underwear Guy makes some flippant remark about relationships, tears instantly spring to my eyes but don’t fall. He shakes his head; as if to say ‘don’t…’ or ‘stop’.

I know if I stay longer the tears are gonna fall…so I tell him I have to leave.

He said, “….please don’t go…just be patient with me…I had an awful day today and it’s YOU that I called to be with…”

I stayed…

There was only one Marvin Gaye song on the jukebox; I Heard It through The Grapevine.

Later while we were getting ready to leave, one tear did fall down my face.

He dried it with a crumpled up bar napkin.

(just to be clear...not US)

179 Reasons to Love Me, Part 5

I remember one time Underwear Guy and I were talking about things that bothered us in relationships. He said that women always got mad when he forgot birthdays, special events, and milestones. He said,”…but I have a legitimate excuse…my memory sucks from getting kicked in the head so much(martial arts tournaments)…”

I called him on it(BS) because I refused to believe that a successful businessman couldn’t remember dates or work out a system to recall dates…like….hmmm…a calendar…

At any rate, the week of my birthday(January 27^th) I had the flu…it was awful, awful, awful…The day after my birthday I woke up feeling renewed…

I am getting a head of myself though…during the days that I was sick and on my birthday I didn’t hear from Underwear Guy.

The day after my birthday he called and he was ready to see me that night…he wanted to go dancing…and asked me to bring a friend to meet his friend.

So plans set, we spend the next hour just catching up on how our week went. I said, “…yeah, it sucks having the flu on your birthday..”

He apologized for forgetting my birthday and I jokingly said “I am sure you will find a way to make it up to me.”

We meet at a club. My friend meets his friend…we separate from them and from that moment on it was like we were the only two people in the room… Sometime during the night he asked if there was any way I could come back to his house that night…he wanted to ‘show me something’…(if you have been following my blog…guys are always wanting to “show” me something)

I said I couldn’t. He pouted. Then he turned into a two year old. He whined that he and his friend had decorated his home, for my birthday, and he wanted me to see it. I offered to come by the next day to see it but NO…it had to be that night or never…I again told him that I couldn’t make it to his house that night and he became so exasperated he was ready to leave.

I told my friend what was going on and she and I decided that we were having a good time and we were going to stay at the club. When Underwear Guy heard about out plan to stay( he felt his night was ending he thought my night should be ending too) he almost blew a gasket. He turned to my friend and said ‘Why don’t you guys just come back to my place? We can finish the party there?’

Since my friend was interested in his friend; she said she wouldn’t mind if we went over to Underwear Guys house.

When we get to Underwear Guy’s house there were handmade birthday banners with my name, letters cut from construction paper, hung around his home.

He bought a bag of dark chocolate Dove candy and an expensive bottle of champagne.

He then pulled some deserts out of the fridge…he had went to a restaurant and bought about 6 different slices of cheesecake.

If I am being real…he had me at the homemade birthday banner…

I’m kinda cheap like that…an act of service and "I’m yours!"

Underwear Guy ran around his house lighting candles and shutting off lights…he put some slow music on…maybe it was Marvin Gaye…and we danced…

Quite frankly, it was the best thing anybody has EVER done for me on my birthday!

179 Reasons to Love Me, Part 4

Whenever Underwear Guy would call me with plans I always proclaimed “Date Number 4!””Date Number 5!”…when we got up to Date Number 6 he asked me to stop counting dates…and “just let it flow…”

When we arrived at Date Number 10, I did tell myself I would stop counting. The very next morning he sent a text stating: “I am not ready for the commitment you want and deserve. I have enjoyed every moment with you but to continue when I know you want so much more would be unfair to you. I hope you understand.”

179 Reasons to Love Me, Part 3

New Year’s Eve 2009.

I had not been out to a New Year’s event in over ten years. The thought of being on the road with a bunch of people who had been drinking just didn’t appeal to me. I believe that the New Year is a time for renewal. I believed ‘that what you are doing at the end of the year is a good omen for what you will take into the New Year’.

New Year’s Eve 2009 was on its way to be a repeat of the past. I went to Wal Mart to get the sparkling apple juice for the kids. Walking toward the checkout lanes I see a rack of clothes for a dollar.

Shuffling through the roundabout I pull out a shiny burnt orange piece of cloth…I can’t decide if it’s a night gown or a dress. Either way, I can’t believe that it’s really a dollar. I throw it in my basket feeling that it was too fancy to sleep in and a color that I would never wear out of the house. I had just bought something to hang in my closet.

Fruit of the Looms guy, who I now fondly called Underwear Guy, called the next night to ask if I had plans for New Year’s. I told him my plans; Dick Clark's Rockin Eve, mimosas, and sleep. He asked if I would consider breaking my do nothing streak to go with him to a friend’s house.

Date #2 was shaping up quite nicely. Meeting the Friends and Scoring a Major Holiday; big points in the dating girl’s handbook.

(didn't read this book just wanted the graphic)

But now I had a problem…what would I wear?

I opened my closet door and my eyes landed on my dollar find. I couldn’t wear that…I still wasn’t sure if it was pajamas or a dress. I tried it on and decided it was the find of the year.

(my buck dress)

On date night, I paired the dress with a wide black belt and some chunky jewelry and I was good to go…Tyra Banks would have been proud.

The plan was for me to meet Underwear Guy at his house, we would go to his friend’s house, and if all went well, we would return to Underwear Guy’s house and watch a movie together.

I was mildly surprised that he wasn’t ready when I arrived at his house. Since I really didn’t know him well, I suspected that this was by design.

He said, “I still have to shower and get dressed.”

He asked me to make myself at home. He led me to the kitchen, where sitting on the dining table were the ingredients to make Midori Sours, my favorite drink.

I told him he had scored major points for listening then buying the Midori ingredients…

As he turned to head toward the shower, I said ‘I have to tell you something. I can’t kiss you at midnight. I have a cold.’

He said he wouldn’t mind ‘getting my germs’

Romance was in the air.

I insisted on keeping my germs to myself.

After he got out of the shower he came and stood in the kitchen…just letting the water drip from his naked body…(not really I just wanted to see who was still awake and reading at this point)

After he showered he threw on some jeans and called me to his bedroom   to help him decide which shirt he should wear. I chose a graphic tee it color coordinated with my dress.

Before we left Underwear Guy’s house, I gave him a Hallmark Card. I signed it, ‘Thanks in advance for a wonderful night!’

On the drive to his friend’s house we found out we had sooooooooo much more in common than we could have ever imagined…it was eerie.

Underwear Guy’s friend had just bought a new home. It was beautifully decorated.

I instantly felt a part of this gang of folks…there was about 20 adults, some kids…and us.

Somewhere programmed music started playing…mostly old school rap…sometime during the night a rousing game of Boggle was initiated…I had never played before but Underwear Guy and I were a force to be reckoned with.

At midnight, everybody gathered around the big screen to watch Dick Clark's Rockin Eve…when the clock struck midnight and the New Year was jogging in I leaned toward Underwear Guy and planted the most awkward, Midori- infused kiss on his lips.

Ten minutes later Underwear Guy leaned in towards me and planted the most awesome, rum and coke infused kiss on my lips.

I think I heard Marvin Gaye playing in the background.

179 Reasons to Love Me, Part 2

(you will see this photo at least one more time)

In the moments after the Fruit of the Looms text, I dashed through our phone conversations, wondering what I had said to make him think it was that kinda party.

I quickly sent a text letting him know that he had gotten the wrong idea about me and what this date was about. I told him I was going to pass on the opportunity to meet him.

I wasn’t looking for a frivolous sexual romp. I was sure I had made that clear.

I told him, “if this was 1996, and you sent me that picture, it coulda been a different night…”

In reply, he sent me a 4 page text…apologizing profusely…pleading with me to "meet me in person...see that I am not the sum total of that picture."

I conferred with one of My Girlz. She said, ‘Guys are stupid. Go and meet him!’

I decided to go. I told myself, the downfall of whatever happens here will be this one Fruit of the Looms picture.

So we meet at the appointed time. I instantly wonder what he looks like in Fruit of the Looms…kidding…

We each order a drink. I find out that, in addition to his full time job, he teaches some form of martial arts and participates in martial arts tournaments.

When the attention turns to me he says that I look much better than any of the pictures in my profile. It feels like a slight slam.

The conversation stalled. I was shocked when he said. “Let’s go bowling.”

The bowling alley, where the magic began…

We bowled three games. I won the first one. He won the last two. As we were putting on our shoes to leave, he asked me to look at the score board; after three games our scores had averaged out to scores the same.

179.(Later, when I googled the number 179, the most interesting fact I came up with was " There were 179 I Love Lucy Shows aired on CBS.")

He said, ‘I think that means something. I am glad you changed your mind and came out to meet me.’

I said ‘Me too. I had a good time.’

He said, “I want to see you again…like before the end of the week…”

I said, “…sure…let’s work it out.”

A light snow had fallen…if this were a romantic comedy; this is where the sexually charged montage of me slipping and falling while Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye would play…in real life; I slipped a few times, he slipped a few times, he caught me each time, and walked me to my car.

I went home feeling like Sandra Bullock AND Gabrielle Union…the Fruit of the Looms picture long forgotten…

(but I shall never forget this photo...)

179 Reasons to Love Me, Part 1

Xmas song for Romantic Pessimists(click on this link only if you want to carole and cry)

Christmas Day 2009.

I found myself doing what a lot of romantic pessimist do during the holidays…window shopping the online dating profiles.

I can’t remember this guy’s screen name but he had an awesome light-up-the-screen smile. I had sent him an email a month before, telling him just that…he never responded.

Now on this day we emailed back and forth, pulling out those little mundane facts that one shares on Christmas morning via email. (We compared dinner menus)

At some point it crossed my mind that it was a sad state of affairs to correspond with a complete stranger via a dating website on Christmas morn. I did, indeed, feel sad.

I found out he was recently divorced, he was cooking dinner at his parent’s home, and his parents were still married.

I shared that I was mostly cooking for sport and an ode to the ‘back-in-the-day-mamas', who rose from the bed, with rollers in her head, and cooked all night.

He said he had a lot of cooking to do and asked for my number.

He called the next night and we talked for 6 hours straight. The Goods:  Divorced father of 5, on the job over 20 years, vehicle owner, home owner, and demonstrated sense of humor.

I have to side track here to say…one of my innate abilities is to know certain things about certain people.  Something in his communication style told me that this black male didn’t date black women.

I asked “Do you date very many black women?”

He paused and asked why I had asked that. I told him I was curious.

He answered, “To be honest, no. Ever since my divorce, black women pay absolutely no attention to me. I even work with a few who are so disrespectful to me…I mean, I am their superior but they will run to get my white counterparts a drink of water and none for me...I hold the door open for them and they don’t even say ‘Thank You!’ "

Just that last paragraph should have been enough for me to write him off…(if you don’t understand that you will by the end…)

We shared some very similar thoughts in fate, love, and religion.

 He said he hadn’t had a marathon phone conversation like that since high school. When we got off the phone I was cartwheeling and somersaulting…as far as I was concerned the pluses outweighed the minuses.

We talked more over the next two days ; deciding to meet for drinks at a neighborhood restaurant.

(The Romantic Pessimist's drink of choice: Midori Sour)

Mere minutes before our date, I received two texts from him. The first one said ‘Looking forward to seeing you ’. ( This text excited me to no end; it was a complete sentence and none of that text lingo.)The second text was a picture* of him, standing in a hotel room, in nothing but his Fruit of the Looms.

*(Not him!!)

The Spaniard's Windowless Van, Part 3

To recap: I met a Spaniard(his label), who looks like El Debarge(my opinion), and drives a Maxima(fact).

I believe him to be a serial killer based on the following facts: 1) He calls himself a Spaniard. 2) Eerie declarations of love and adoration for his mommy. 3) Living in the basement of his mommy’s home although he is financially capable. 4) Easy access to a serial killer- like van.

Why would a girl with good old fashioned common sense consider dating a man who has the potentiality to be a serial killer?

Well, first I guess you gotta ask a girl with good old fashioned common sense…as for me?...I had started looking at serial killers with a new set of eyes…

His name was Richard Grissom.http://www.shawneedispatch.com/news/2010/may/07/former-prosecutor-recalls-grissom-case/

So to conclude :The Spaniard’s Windowless Van…

I find myself in a creepy, dark, damp smelling basement…about to enter a human cage.

We enter in to the killers den…a double deck cassette player system is playing Marvin Gaye on a desk, on a low lying table are a group of scented candles and cone incense burning…

The Spaniard sits on a twin size bed with a pillow that has seen better days. He pats the space next to him. I shake my head.(“hell to the no” hadn’t been invented yet)

The Spaniard, not devoid of manners, pulls out a computer desk chair for his guest.

He hands me a case filled with thousands of cd’s and asks me to pick something I want to hear.

I wonder if there are any artist with a song called “I Want To Go Home’.

The Spaniard lays across the twin sized bed; stares in my direction.

The Spaniard walks over to me and holds his hand out to me. I get up and he sits in the chair pulling me into his lap.

With the scent of the incense wafting through the air, the glow of the candles, Marvin Gaye in the background… we make out 1970’s style.

That’s really the end of the story.

Nobody should be groaning with this ending…cause for the story to end any other way I would be dead.