Friday, September 9, 2011

Innocent girls need a handbook...

I read a small MSN news snippet this morning about a woman calling her ex-boyfriend in Amsterdam more than 65,000 times last year.  This would roughly equal over a 178 times a day.  My first reaction was to click my tongue and "tsk tsk" her.  What a freak!  How could anyone be so deranged?  But then I think back to my past and remember my first horrible crush.  Yes, it's true.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but I've also been a stalker.  Certainly not to the extent of making 178 phone calls a day but yes, I've been known to drive around my ex-boyfriend's neighborhood at night to see if his bedroom light was on.  Eeewww.  It sounds...well, so dirty.  Breezy the Night Stalker!

What is it that compels people to be so desperate?  Seriously?  What were the odds that the same unique car his ex-girfriend drove would show up on his street at 11:30 on a Tuesday night and circle around 6 times?  What was I hoping to gain from that?  That he would turn on his light and say, "Oh, Bri my love!  Let me come outside and passionately embrace you?!"  Forget about the fact that he had a crush on a guy named, Mike (names have been changed to protect the innocent).  I was such an idiot!

This brings me to another ramble which ties in nicely to the stalker issue.  There needs to be a handbook for the innocent girls of the world.  Back in my day, I had no idea what signs to look for in a straight man versus a gay man.  I'm hoping that today's Moms are much more open about it with their girls but obviously, I had no such discussion with my Mother.  Here I was - in love, enamored, and infatuated with a guy who was obsessed with matching the color of his bow tie with my prom dress.  Really?  I'm thinking that might have been a clue.

A couple of years later I met and had a terrible crush on an extremely handsome latin man.  We worked late restaurant hours together and became very good friends.  Some evenings we'd go out for dancing and drinks after work.  We talked and laughed about everything.  One night, as we were sitting in my car, he became very serious, "Bri, I need to tell you something." (in that sexy, swarthy accent only he had...swoon swoon..)

"What is it, Juan?" (Again, names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

"I don't know how to tell you this.  I'm afraid it will change our friendship."

Well!  For those of you who have gotten to know me over these past months, you know that I can be fairly self-confident at times.  At this particular moment, I was completely full of myself.  This was it!!  This was the moment I'd been waiting for.  Juan was going to profess his undying love for me.  He was going to tell me how much he wanted me...that in a moment he was going to take me in his hunky, Mexican arms and make wild passionate love to me.  Oh, I was ready.  I was ready!

"It's ok, Juan.  Tell me.  It won't destroy our friendship.  It will only make us stronger.  I promise."

"Ok."  With tears welling up in his beautiful green eyes he said, "Bri, I am gay."

Silence.  Long awkward pause.  And in that quiet I realized that this information was not at all what I expected to hear and a complete shock to my system.  Laughter.  Unequivical and unabashed laughter.  I couldn't contain myself.  I, as usual, proved to be an arrogant horses ass.

After a couple of moments I realized that one of my dearest friends just shared something very personal with me and I was laughing.  He probably completely misunderstood.  I quickly looked up and saw his shock and horror.

"Bri!  Why are you laughing?!"

I told him that I thought he wanted to ravage my body.  He gave the same hysterical response.  In fact, with even heartier laughter.  I didn't take that too well but apparently my ego needs a slap on the fannie every so often. 

So, my friends, for the sake of overinflated and innocent young egos everywhere, Mothers talk to your daughters or get some one to print that handbook soon.  Oh, and by the way, George Michael, the singer...he's gay too!  Who knew?


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