This is yet another post about how I manage to get in the most awkward situations ever. The Housewife has been keeping the blog in business and getting all kind of traffic with her cute baby posts and the like. What do I have to offer you? Updates on yellow jacket nests, a small twitter love affair with the head chef at The Optimist (I kid...sort of...), and a neighborhood stalker.
Y'all seriously -- I feel like over the last few years mere politeness has been getting me into terrible situations. It started at my old job. I used to get to work just before 7 when the night security guard was just ending his shift. As I had to stand in front of the man to sign in I would say a quick "Morning" before hopping on the elevator. This escalated into him asking me out. An old, short, chubby, bald guy. I had to start taking the stairs and he still tried to give me a Christmas present.
Thus begins my other story. Neighborly "Hello's" and short, pointless 2 minute chats. This is what happens when you have a dog people. Everyone wants to pet the dog and say hi blah blah blah. Enter Neighbor Steve. He has two cats, plays volleyball, a beautifully groomed yard with pretty plants, and wears a single diamond stud earring to go out. I seriously thought he was gay. Or more gay than straight anyway. He wanted to go to brunch (again...thinking he was gay) and I said yes thinking this was the road to listening to Cher on the back patio once or twice a month and drinking white wine spritzers with the guy while we talk about our favorite SATC episodes.
Something like this:
So we are on the way back from brunch when dude drops the DATE bomb on me. Like, he's late 40's and he actually thought we were on a date. He has no hair and he thought we were on a date. I tell Neighbor Steve politely but pointedly, that I am only interested in being neighborhood friends and not dating. He says he "appreciates my honesty."
Except he apparently doesn't. Because he called me Wednesday (ignored and not called back) and then puts a note in my mailbox on Friday. About how he had fun on our date (WAS NOT A DATE) and couldn't believe he waited so long to ask me out. And that he would call me when he got back in town this week. And he wants us to do something this weekend. It was a typed out note. Like serial killers probably write. Or that dude creeping Whitney in The Bodyguard. Except he had hair.
So maybe this happens next? Yes? Anyone Kevin Costner-ish??? Bueller???
I am not on a date just because you are a member of the opposite sex and we happen to be getting food. It doesn't qualify. I am really kind of pissed off. There is no way anything I did even constituted flirting with this guy. He is old. Ugh. And now I am scared to even walk the dog for fear I will have to speak to Mr. Overzealous-and-Not-Gay.
Love you. Mean it.
~the single gal~