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It Sounded Like A Good Idea At The Time

2004-05-26_xx_11:15 a.m.


Many moons ago, I managed to find myself a stalker. I did detail this brief encounter and the ensuing stalking a few months back. It took a large amount of emailing, conversing and flat out ignoring her for her to get the point. She spooked me a bit when she called and confessed that, "she was driving around the area where she thought I lived trying to find my house so she could give me a letter" that she wrote about our date the previous night. Our first and ONLY date. I let that slide because I did initially have a helluva connection with the girl, but things rapidly became scarier and scarier.

Once I finally got it through her head that I didn't ever want to hear from or see her ever again, I still kept her name and number in my phone book, just in case she called back so I knew it was my stalker, still stalking. This truly seemed a good idea, as even in my sloppiest of drunk dialing nights, I would never select that particular name. Even being intoxicated to the point of incapacitation, my brain still functions on a survival instinct level and recogonition of a predator is something almost all animals are capable of. But like I said, at the time, this seemed like a really good idea.

Yesterday, on my way out of work, I start toying with the cellular device, while breifly receiving last minute instructions from my vacationing supervisor. As I turned to leave, a collision with one of the heffers I work amongts happens and somehow, someway a magical combination of buttons is pressed in rapid succession. Once apologies are made for the unpleasently squishy collision, I glance down and see that 'calling' icon is displayed on my phone and the ignorant device is merrily dialing away on it's on accord. It was dialing the first alphabetically listed number in my phone book. I only have one name that starts with the letter A in my phone book and yes, dearest of diaries, it's the stalker.

A horrified gasp escapes my lips as I desperately mash my thumb on the keypad; four terrifying rings later I manage to press the END key. Pulling myself together, I mentally prepare for an instant return call and begin mentally making a check list to cover the explanation, however lame the truth my actually be.

My phone was quiet for a long time, too quiet you might say. And just when I though I was in the clear, the calls started. Once the fourth consecutive call rolled in, I finally had to let my parents go so that I could address the situation, didn't even give her a chance to speak when I answered and quickly hung up after delivering my spiel: "I apologize for the call, but I kept your number in my phone so that if you did continue to stalk me I would have documented proof in case I needed to notify the authorities. I am already in the process of fixing the steps in which this situation occurred so as not to duplicate it. I apologize again as I'm certain this is not going to help your mental state of mind. *CLICK*"

My fool proof plan to keep from being stalked and accidentaly dialing the stalker again? Erase her number and never, ever answer numbers that are not already stored in my phone book.

You would think, dearest of diaires, that a genius like me would have thought of that months ago. But no, I had to be cute and clever, listing her name as "A***** The Stalker" and even give her the psycho theme song ring. Sometimes, I am just too clever for my own good.

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