The monkey made me do it

The Stalker Story

This is an account of the first date that I did for the aforementioned dating competition. Nobody actually went to jail, but I did get a little scared and have yet to go to the library without backup.

PRE-DATE:
I met dude #1 on theStranger.com (should have been an immediate warning sign). He talked a good game about the local hip-hop scene and wrote very well. His letters were frequent and confident with a lot of attitude (a good quote: “Did I mention you have nice legs? Does that sound creepy to say over the Internet? If so, did I mention you write concisely? Both are attractive.”), and he asked me out on the same day we started talking. I knew he was a librarian and cat-owner, but decided not to hold that against him. Seemed in fact like a wonderful bizarre-date opportunity.

DATE (Sunday, 2/15/04):
A little history here before I get to the date: I went out on Friday with a very outgoing musician (night owl) and went out with a friend Saturday night to see a late show (“Monster” is the best Valentine’s movie ever), basically had not slept more than four hours a night all weekend thus far. I’d also spent the days getting up early and running around with my parents, which is a trial in itself just fielding their questions/comments/closeted biting personal attacks on my love life. Basically, I was a very tired lady. So, I met with friends right before the date and drank five big cups of black coffee in quick succession while they pep-talked me with stories they’d heard of blind dates found mangled in wilderness areas, the mounting instability of the American psyche, etc. I was wearing low-rise black pants, high black boots, a tightish shirt that allows the color of my bra to peek through in the right light (baby blue, I like colorful things in inappropriate places), and a cropped black leather jacket. I was twitchy and hyper and dressed to scare the librarian piss out of him. Game was on.

I waited just outside of Gravity Bar, which is a very trendy little juice bar and restaurant containing any wheatgrass or tahini product your heart could desire. This was all HIS choice, I suggested a greasy burger (and veggie burger) joint nearer to the movie but he got really anxious and wanted to make sure the restaurant was up to par. He walked in from the street and was going so fast that he blew by me and inside the restaurant before I could say his name. I saw him go straight up to a table he had obviously already scoped out with a single brunette and introduce himself (with unfavorable results, he’s okay-looking but very socially challenged), then pretended to look in my purse as he turned to see me and finally walked the right direction. He looked nothing at all like I thought he would - the picture he sent was somewhat accurate, but all the confidence and game was nowhere to be seen. He was wearing a black long sleeve knit shirt and jeans (Seattle metrosexual), and didn’t make eye contact at all for the first half hour. He was also sweating so bad that any time he said a “t” or “p” sound little beads of wet would spatter off his top lip onto the stylish etched plexi tabletop. We talked about the library that he works in, and he described his job in careful, methodological detail that I now cannot for the life of me recall, since I zoned after the first mention of Excel and the wonder of spreadsheets.

This man talked like he’d prepared and memorized a list of questions in advance (probably had them sorted by topic, first letter, dewey decimal, etc.). One of us would start a topic, I’d get going and then ask him something, and he’d go silent and there would be an awkward pause. Then he’d ask a scripted question that hadn’t followed the flow of conversation at all. The boy could NOT change topics easily, even if they were completely spent or irrelevant. For example: Vegetarianism. Him: “How do you handle being a vegetarian? I have a few friends who are also vegetarian. I have thought about becoming a vegetarian.” Me: Blather about nutrition and diet, get bored mid-sentence, change things around by saying that my brother is a nutritionist/personal trainer and we got in a huge debate about milk and eggs when we went snowboarding together. Tell short but entertaining story about my snowboarding experience and subsequent fun teaching myself how to fall in ways that made getting back up easier and less bruising. Include reenactments. Ask if he’s ever done it or any other winter sports. Him: “No. So, do you cook at home a lot? Do you know of any good vegetarian cookbooks?” Aaargh. Blather about not using them and cooking by experimentation, vaguely remember line of hippie cookbooks that seem popular and manage to recall one title. He is happy with this, almost looks at me. Asks about vegetarian restaurants in town. I tell him a few of the decent ones even though he is obviously not paying attention (instead he is fighting with his tofu, staring down his brown rice). Then and only then are we are allowed to move on to winter sports, of which he has still done none.

I asked him if he’s ever been in any fights. He got scared, told me about his aikido (NON-combative, he stressed) and that he has to pretend to attack, but not really attack. He told me that one time when biking he almost had to jump off the bike when it looked like he was going to hit someone, but he ended up just brushing against them. This was his best story. I could tell he had been saving it. This made me laugh, and I fake-coughed until the spell passed (he didn’t notice, as he was still not gazing anywhere near my direction).

I asked him about a local hip-hop night that we had discussed previously via e-mail, not believing now that he had ever attended such an event. The truth finally came out – he has been a couple of times, but only really likes the tongue-in-cheek 80’s mixes the DJ throws on from time to time (think Men at Work and Missy in the same song) and just puts up with the actual hip-hop part. Snoop Dogg fan my ass. He leaves early because there’s too many gangstas out there when it gets late. He also has two purebred cats that he adopted, but NOT from the animal shelter, he was careful to emphasize. As a proud pound mutt-of-many-colors owner for the past three years, I smiled and nodded and made a mental note to innocently talk about my dog later on in the night and emphasize her sketchy, sketchy pedigree and street-dog life history. And her tendency to eat cats and other small things that run fast.

We went to an indie movie after dinner, which was initially highlighted by his apparent inability to answer any of the questions I asked him during the previews or talk at all once the lights went out. I understand not talking during the movie, but previews are fair game in my world. He just sat there staring at the glorified commercials on the screen, pretending not to hear me or perhaps mesmerized by the big pretty pictures. Then the main feature started. Something clicked in his mind (I heard it, I swear) and he turned toward me and put his hand up towards my face, resting it on my shoulder. He said “Do you mind if I put my arm around you?” I giggled, thinking that he meant the hand that was already on my shoulder and said “No, it’s all right.” He then did the most awkward lengthy reach over my shoulders and rested his arm down heavily, bonking my head and pinning my hair down in the process. I continued to giggle at the absurdity of the situation – his arm was crooked around my neck in a way that must have been terribly uncomfortable and in no way conducive to proper blood flow. I thought he was perhaps doing aikido and I would soon be called upon to fall over in a noncombative way. The movie was long, and I had to go to the bathroom halfway through (FIVE cups, people) and laughed all the way out and back, gaining me irritated looks the concession girls sprawled out in the foyer. He re-draped immediately once I got back and kept that uncomfortable position through the whole movie.

Afterwards he walked me to his car, asked me out again, and asked if he could kiss me. He was standing about five feet away, turned slightly to the side and still only looking at me sporadically. I said “sure” and he darted over and delicately placed a mis-aimed peck on half of my lips, then said “bye” and ran off.

I considered this my small part in the socialization process of Seattle men. Somebody’s gotta learn ‘em.

Part 2 (Monday):
HOLY SHIT - this drama just got good. He emailed me again last night after our date, saying:
"[thanks, yada yada] You're very attractive, by the way. I usually see a first meeting arranged online more as a "pre-date interview" than a "first date." (shucks, I just exhausted my quotation quota). Forgive my clunky mechnanics trying to communicate physical interest. I warm up soon enough. This could happen with you very naturally. You're a hottie. A smart, artsy hottie..." Then asking if I wanted to go out next Saturday.

I emailed him just a little while ago that I had a good time but thought that I was a little wild for him (what with the drinking and socializing regularly and all). I wrote it really carefully and tried to let him down easy, saying that I didn't want to hurt him unintentionally with my carefree ways. I made him a list of my bad qualities, mostly highlighting the disorganization and recklessness, and said "While these qualities can be entertaining, I've found that a lot of people also find them very annoying when trying to plan things with me or when trying to find me on a Friday night. Some day I'm sure I'll calm down and get to be more responsible and trackable, but I think you're way ahead of me in this arena. If you would like to get to know each other as friends though, that might be less troublesome (it's much easier to laugh off a friend's flakiness than a date's flakiness).
Please don't think that I hate you or anything, I had a great time yesterday and I really am not having any fun writing this. I just don't want to hurt you and think that I would if we dated more (unintentionally, but still). Let me know if you want to continue as friends, and if you don't I completely understand and wish you the best of luck." Reasonable, I thought, and communicating polite respect but also communicating lack of desire to pursue a romantic relationship. Possibly should have told him a little about the no-chemistry,

SO....
Just a minute or two ago I get this message (directly following a phone attempt by him that I didn't pick up):
"People ALWAYS do this. They see the sweet face and polite behavior and assume I want to go steady. Don't project, okay? :)
I get out and about, too. To be honest, I'm very curious about sex right now. I'm not a complete virgin, but my experience is limited. These things don't make me overly vulnerable to rejection...but that seems to be the assumption. It's a waste of my time to fight it, I've learned. I hope you're not making this assumption. I'm not interested in being a husband anytime soon. I'm not interested in being a serious boyfriend until after this summer, when work has settled down.
Are you saying you only want to be my friend? If so, I'll understand. And don't be so roundabout about saying it...
But if you're saying you just think we have different priorities, you might be wrong. If things get physical, it won't hurt me if you dissapear. I'm a big boy, really. You have a profile posted for a reason, I think, and it's not to start a collection of guy friends. I'm interested in you. Work with that."

Despite the smiley face, this is an angry angry letter and it's completely destroying any sort of positive feelings I had for the guy. You want sex, say so in your profile - I never would have answered his letters. I never even mentioned wanting a husband or serious boyfriend in my letters or profile, I have no idea where he is coming from with this. I just said we weren't compatible (dear GOD are we not compatible).

He just called again. Hopefully I haven't awakened some sort of monster. Thank all that's holy he doesn't know my last name.

He called twice more, leaving messages that got increasingly angry and told me to "get my story straight" (?).

He also wrote this:
"P.S. And you said you *weren't* a flake already. Get your story straight, woman! And maybe uncheck the "serious relationship" box on your profile... Don't pigeonhole me as a sensitive nice guy this early. Please? :)"
And this:
"I'm still keeping Saturday night open, for you. You can let a good man buy you dinner and show you some affection, or you can go get drunk with friends you already know. Be smart about this. No bullshit stories about how wild you are. I don't care. I like you. I know I like you. Let a good thing happen, here."

PSYCHO. I said I wasn't a flake in a very joking manner after I had forgotten to give him my phone number in a letter (before our date), and then added that I wasn't able to refute the flake accusation at that time, but that it was still wrong. He's somehow managed to become patronizing and an asshole while simultaneously thinking he's still going to get some.
I'm taking my profile off that service and hopefully he'll get the hint.

(Tuesday)
Here's my response to his emails and phone calls on Monday:

"Dude #1,
I've been nothing but honest with you. Do you realize that your one attempt to find a discrepancy with what I said has only resulted in a misunderstood joke? I said I wasn't a flake after I had forgotten to give you my number, if I remember right, and it was sarcasm. I meant everything that I wrote before, and still think that though we might work as friends it would be difficult to be in a relationship with our different lifestyles. I have a lot of experience with this, believe me, it never works and is a serious consideration when thinking about who to date (which is why I talk about my spontinaeity, love of adventure, etc. in my profile - to avoid this sort of problem).
As for your diatribe on dating, my view is that people start dating to check each other out for the potential of a more serious relationship. If you "date" people for sex, it's not dating and you should have put on your profile that you were only interested in "play" or "discreet fun" or whatever words they're using now. I am completely offended that you think I posted my profile to gain a collection of boy-toys or to find sexual partners. This is not the hard part for me, it's finding people that are worth talking to and getting to know on a deeper level. I didn't project onto you or pigeonhole you, I merely assumed that you date as most normal people date and that you wouldn't want to continue a relationship that I knew would not be able to go anywhere due to some huge discrepancies in personality. Silly me.
Basically, I'm saying that I did not misrepresent myself or what I was looking for on any level, apparently YOU did. I take back any offer of friendship and don't honestly want to hear from you again on any medium. Good luck developing the asshole side of your personality, you've got a good start here.
-Jay"

From him (via three separate emails so far today):
"I did not mean to suggest you were looking for a collection of boy toys. I was not propositioning you. I want to get to know you as a person. I'm also interested in dating and think there might be potential in that direction. My lifestyle is stable right now because it has to be...I'd do things on a whim more if I could. Please don't hold my obligations to take care of myself against me.
I'm new at this. I'm doing the best I can. I'm not an asshole. I want to go out with you again and I'm asking you not to give up on me so fast.

I want to talk to you on the phone when you have some time. I'd prefer to do it sooner, rather than later. I just rambled something to the effect of this on your voicemail.
There's nothing I can do to convince you I'm worth getting to know--or to convince you I want to get to know you---than ask you to talk to me. I don't want to sort this out via e-mail. I'm sarcastic and I tend to communicate off the top of my head, and I'd prefer things not to get all muddled. Talk to me.

You're an attractive woman. You can get attention from a handful of men on any day of the week. I have to work for it. I'm doing that. Please acknowledge my effort to do the right thing here. Please know I'm sincere about maintaining contact.

If you want me to give up and don't have the time or energy to explain why, forward this message right back to me.

Or get to know me."

(CREEPY, Running away now.)
At this point I decided to ignore him entirely, not picking up or writing anything back. Usually this works, but dude has some major issues.

Wednesday was full of more emails and phone calls, basially reiterating what was said before with slightly escalating levels of anger.

Here's a rough transcript of the call I got from him last night (Thurs):

"Just trying again at a later hour, I want to talk to you on the phone, not stalking you or anything, just want to talk to you on the phone. Really. So if you see your phone ringing and see that it's me, pick up the phone. I think I deserve to be talked to on the phone... so... there

I think it's really fucking stupid that you can't pick up your phone. Maybe you're on a date or something I don't know, I've called just a couple different times, it sounds like you don't want to talk to me and I think you're making a mistake
I'm not an asshole, I'm a good man, an honest man.
I keep going out on first dates with these upper-middle class girls who are I think having difficulty identifying with me because I know I am having difficulty identifying with them. I didn't start dating until recently. I know A lot of these girls like you started going out with guys at 16-17 and you've developed opinions about how men act and I get included in those things and
I'm not the same as a lot of guys, I started doing this late. I guess I keep calling because I want you to hear ME, I don't want to get brushed off so easily I know I'm worth more than that. I want to talk to a real person on the phone and I want that person to listen to me, and You're out being wild and having fun and I'm getting ready for work, being tired and boring and un-wild and it's fucked up, it's really fucked up cause no one's giving me a chance. I'm up on cap hill and most of the girls are out like you, out being wild and having fun. Students, artists, writers, people who get checks from home to pay their rent. And that's not me, and I think that's the kind of person I need to focus on and I'm learning that
Right now I'm yammering into your fucking voice mail instead of talking to you and you don't care probabbly listening thinking I'm a creep or a jerk or whatever and that's fucked up too
Maybe some night when you're out at Chop Suey or something and I'm there and you'll see me and you see me and if I walk up and say hello and offer to buy you a drink you won't be creeped out.
I'm a good person, I'm a good person on your voice mail
I'm fucking tired of spoiled princesses like you"

So here's my reply:

"Dude,
I am giving you one more chance to stop calling and writing me, and if you disregard this one as well I am going to contact the police. Your message volume and content has not only made me uncomfortable, it has scared me. I'm not interested in any further explanation or debate here, I just want you to stop harassing me. I'm hoping that deep down you mean well and did not intend to harass me at this level. Prove me right by respecting my wishes leave me alone.
-Jay"


Aaaand, of course he responds (no reading comprehension skills in addition to all the shit he's been throwing at me?! Gee, maybe I am making a huge mistake passing this guy up.):

"Thanks for responding. Sorry I made you uncomfortable.

I'm a good man. Just lonely, and clumsy with my feelings right now.

Take care,

Dude"

He e-mailed again a month later, just checking to see if I had changed my mind.
I hadn't.
He got angry again, mailed three separate letters saying that I was passing up a good thing. I repeated the cop threat, and haven't heard from him since (but haven't been to the new library yet either, damn him for keeping me from our new Koolhaas!).

posted by LadyJay @ 1:30 PM