Aug 182017
 

I stalked a woman once.

Well, not really. That sounds like I followed her around and took photos or something, and I didn’t. I spooked her, though (regrettably).

She was a regular customer in the service department at Madison Books & Computers, bringing machines in for her employer. She was an attractive blonde, maybe a couple of years older than I was (so, 24 to my 22). I was nursing a shattered heart from a broken engagement, which made me behave erratically because the various parts of my emotional self were firing unpredictably, with different intensities and efficacies.

So, as part of figuring out how to date again, I decided it would be a good idea to write this woman (I’d give you her first name, but I don’t remember it) a few anonymous letters over the course of a couple of weeks, leading up to telling her who I was and inviting her to lunch in the last one. Great plan. How could she resist my verbal charms?

Now I don’t remember what I wrote, which is probably my memory protecting me from cringing so severely that my face might really freeze like that. I imagine that even in the gay old early 1990s, there wasn’t really any way to do what I did without the creepy factor being the overriding one.

What I definitely do remember is that I named the time and place for lunch, and made it clear that if she didn’t show, that would be the end of it. So if she wasn’t interested, she could simply do nothing. Instead, I got a phone call from someone who said he was her boyfriend, politely asking me to stop contacting her. I assured him I would, and that was the end of my stalking career.

That was a really odd time, between Tammy and Lea. I did manage to see some high-quality women for a while. I clumsily alienated some others. It was like I couldn’t quite remember the melody of a song, but then I’d get a piece of it, be much too relieved, and sing much too confidently, generating new nonsense for me to navigate. However good or bad the movie was, “getting your groove back” isn’t a bad way to put it at all.

And of course, none of this is a lament. I’m much happier today than I ever imagined was possible.

But I’m sorry I spooked you on the journey, blonde woman.

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 Posted by at 10:02 am

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