A Stalker of My Own

Remember what I said in my last post about wanting to notice the little things more?  Well, this proves I have a long way to go, but I’m getting there.

Mississippi-Natchez-Trace-Parkway-fall-foliageIt was the fall of 2012.  I was living in Bumfuck, Mississippi.  Boredom had set in once again and I took to the internet for entertainment.  It was a little website called Plenty of Fish.  I started talking to Woody.  At first he reminded me of Art, but as we talked I realized that he was more of a country version of Art.  He was artsy and cool, but he is also a very tall handsome former marine who likes to hunt & fish.

We talked for a while, but it never worked out so that we could meet.  He lived an hour and a half from Bumfuck, so it was difficult to work it out.  Then, of course, I met Teacher and then my car died.  So that was pretty much the end of that.

Fast forward a year and a half or so to about a month ago.

I’m newly single, back on the dating websites, and thinking back.  Thinking back to a guy I used to talk to who seemed very cool, Woody.  I checked my phone to see if I still had his number.  I didn’t have it anymore.  I checked POF to see if his profile was still up.  It wasn’t.  So my search ended there.

Anyway, I decided to go back on Plenty of Fish a couple of weeks ago and while perusing the profiles I saw one that had viewed my profile and even though it didn’t have a picture, I decided to read it.  It was hilarious in a very sarcastic funny kind of way, so I added the profile as a favorite thinking that maybe I’d send it to my sister later.

Just over a week ago I went to the local watering hole to hear Teacher sing and play, and to just have some drinks with friends.  Most of the night I sat out on the patio with my friend DC.  She’s a very talented artist who has a studio here in town.  While she and I were on the patio talking, a man walked up and asked me if he could borrow my lighter.  I let him use mine, then he handed it back.  Before he walked off he sort of paused and smiled.  I didn’t think much of it other than “damn, he’s cute.”  But DC and I were talking so I just continued with our conversation after he left.

Tonight I was looking at POF again and I got a message.

“Hey its me Woody. What da heck happened with you and Teacher?  It was hard not to talk to you at that Thursday gig. I borrowed your lighter though.  It’s me Woody. We talked on here a while back. Then I ran into you at an outdoor gig in town. I was handing out [local arts magazine].”

Um, what?  I remembered the cute guy asking to borrow my lighter.  I remembered the guy at the gig in town last summer.  I remembered the name Woody.  I didn’t understand though.  If we had talked in the past, why didn’t he just introduce himself?  So I asked him.

He said that he thought I was with Teacher and he was trying to be respectful.

I immediately looked him up on Facebook.  LOL  I started looking through his profile and started noticing things.  Such as, he was at several other events that I had also attended.  He’s in a lot of the same Facebook groups that I’m in.  He is friends with Teacher and a few other people that I know.  Evidently from what he told me and from what I found out on Facebook, he’s been lurking around for about a year now, never introducing himself to me because of Teacher.  Once he saw me on POF again, he figured it was safe to message me again.  I’m so glad he did.

It one thing to have a stalker who is threatening or weird, but to have one who is courteous and polite and respectful is not such a bad thing.  It’s kind of flattering.

So we talked some more tonight and he said he’s going out of town for the weekend, but he wants to hang out as soon as he gets back.  I confess I’m a little giddy.  The whole thing is a little surreal, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a lot of fun. 🙂

Happy humping!

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3 thoughts on “A Stalker of My Own

  1. Pingback: Waking the Sleeping Giant | Confessions of a Preacher's Daughter

  2. Pingback: Just Say No Thank You | Confessions of a Preacher's Daughter

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