The Rambling RedHead

Flypaper for Freaks..

My best friend CB says I am "flypaper for freaks".. Our definition being that if there is a drunken, unstable, psychopathic, emotionally crippled fuckwit within a 5 mile radius, they will usually find me, like deranged moths to a flame.. This theory of hers has been proven time and time again.. This most recent event incedence has, once again, given me cause to pause in consideration of my desire to remain a single, heterosexual female.. Sometimes it just seems it might be a more prudent course of action to go all Catholic and become a nun, switch teams and become gay, "full on Liberache gay" or just admit defeat, lower my standards appropriately and start corresponding on Meet An Inmate.

Our story begins as I am out jogging at Lake Lynn, a nice scenic jaunt, not too far from my parent's house.. I've got the iPod feeding angry rock music directly into my gray matter, the weather is lovely and life is good.. As I make my first round, I notice a moderately cute boy on his bike pass me and smile.. Ego boost.. As I head further around the path, he comes around again and says hi... Interesting.. The third time we pass, he pulls over before we meet and waits for me.. By now, I'm feeling pretty damn good about myself..

Pride goeth before the fall, my children..

Now, I'm quite happy with my position on Team Single but I am forever willing to make new friends and if I happen to meet Prince Charming in the process, well, so be it..

Semi-Cute Biker Boy and I strike up a conversation about generic, non-committal things and spend about 4 minutes establishing rapport.. So far so good.. Then, as inevitably it does with every man I meet, the other shoe drops.. He proceeds to tell me he's had a really stressful week.. I express sympathy and ask what happened to make the week so stressful, assuming work pressures, maybe he was moving, you know, normal shit.. This was a highly erroneous assumption.. And asking about it was a mistake of biblical proportions..

Over the course of the next 15 minutes he proceeds to tell me the entire history of his recently ended relationship with his former fiancee, about all the fights, ugliness, bitterness and recriminations, infidelity, emotional abuse with the tale culminating in their most recent breakup, predominately centered around the fact that she got pregnant to try to trap him into marriage.. And than when he said he didn't want to get married but wanted to be a part of his child's life, she decided to terminate the pregnancy.. That the whole reason that he was out riding his bike that day was becase at that very moment, she was having an abortion to end the pregnancy..

Yeeeaaahhh.. I'm going to have to go with "over-share".. That this may have been more information than was necessary to reveal a whopping 19 minutes into our tenure as acquaintances.. Actually, it may have been more information than was necessary to reveal outside the sanctity of the confessional booth.. To quote Sliding Doors (a brilliant movie) "I have people I consider soul mates that don't confide this much in me.."..

I spent about 5 more minutes wrapping up the conversation as gracefully as possible (a daunting task for even the most genial of individuals) and said I hoped things worked out for the best for him.. He asked if we could possibly get together one night for a drink to discuss more pleasant topics.. Like what?? Genocide in Dafur? Rectal polyps?

To hasten my departure, I accepted his email address (his name @ your basic popmail.com) and said I would drop him a note so we could get together.. And promptly made a mental note to switch back to Shelly Lake for future jogging excursions.. I also prayed earnestly that God would be kind and our paths would never cross again.. Apparently, God is not on my side these days..

Fast forward to a last week at Alive After 5, our local Thursday night live music gathering..

AJ and I are out having a few frosty adult beverages and plotting our next locale change when she suddenly nudges me and sayd we are getting ready to have company.. I turn to see who it is..

Fuck.

Well, hello there Crazy Biker Boy.. He comes up, gives me a hug and says he was hoping to run into me again as he had never heard from me.. I quickly say I must have had the address wrong because the email "bounced" and I was sorry.. His reply was that he suspected that and had set up a special email account just for me, in case he ran into me again.. I braced myself and asked what it was.. He replied "pleaseemailme @ your basic popmail.com"..

I swear to God. AJ probably will need extensive dental work because her jaw just about broke when it hit the ground..

Being the get-along-girl that I am, I promised to write him and quickly wrapped up the conversation and got the holy hell out of there.. As my guy radar has been known to be massively flawed in the past, I double checked with AJ as to the creepiness factor of the whole exchange.. She was in complete agreement that on a scale of 1 to Insane, that was a "Jame Gumb".. As in "It's puts the lotion in the basket or it get's the hose"...

Ok, so maybe I'm being too harsh.. Maybe this was someone who had been through alot of emotional turmoil and just wanted to get to know someone and make a new friend... I can admit that I have at times cringed when I had to reveal to people that I am unemployed and divorced with 2 kids, all the while, worrying that they are immediately summarizing that into "welfare mom".. I empathize with him for going through a difficult time and am sure that he was really a nice guy.. However, the part of me that is Co-Captain for Team Single was totally freaked out by a guy who felt a need to tell me all about his last relationships and ex-fiancee's abortion less than 20 minutes after meeting me and then set up a special email with "pleaseemailme" as the account name.. No matter how you look at it, that's just 8 shades of fucked up..

Every night as I tuck myself in at night, after I pray for family and friends and world peace, I say a wee prayer for Seriously Insane Biker Boy in hopes that he finds closure from his troubled relationship and the peace, love and the happiness that we all deserve..

And that we never, ever cross paths again.. No, seriously, God, I mean it this time.. Please, no more...

Amen

posted by Monet @ 12:40 PM