So by now my dating failures have become an endless source of mirth for anyone stumbling across these pages. It’s like I always say: when I mess something up, I mess it up good. In these most recent cases, my experiences have just been plain strange with little or no contribution on my end. A great example of this is the tale of “Mr. Twilight”
Mr. Twilight was named by my friend Ri because he always tries to be this brooding, mysterious figure. It’s like he read Twilight like it was some manual to pick up girls, and he honestly believes that his behavior is intriguing instead of creepy as hell. He lurks about and tries to remain aloof, when he’s really just a tool. I mean, the guy is just a complete and utter asswipe.
If I sound harsh, I’m really not being so in this situation. Let me give you the background:
So, Mr. Twilight is a patient at work. He came in and flirted with me shamelessly the day of his appointment last year. I’m oblivious, so he was obviously putting quite a bit of work into it for me to notice. A week later, when it’s time for him to pick up his contacts, he waits for me to come back from lunch to dispense his lenses (he waited 45 minutes). A couple weeks later, I run into him again at the grocery store and we have a long conversation in the middle of the produce section. He asks for my Facebook, I don’t have one, so I tell him to call me at work. Realizing that was a stupid thing to say on my drive home, I sent him a note apologizing for probably hurting his feelings. I enclosed my number with the apology. He texts me back a few days later, so I ask if he wants to meet for lunch, and he says yes.
My happiness was murdered brutally when my friend Ri looked him up on Facebook. Front and center was a lovely picture of him and his girlfriend, whom I’m assuming he didn’t think I’d find out about on account of me not having a Facebook. I might have had a rage episode filled with swear words I’d rarely used before. Either way, my indignation was palpable. I deleted and blocked his number immediately and swore that I’d never speak to that incorrigible asswipe ever again.
If you are guessing that the story doesn’t end there, you are correct. A couple months ago he walks into the office to get a quote on contacts. Will he see any of my coworkers? Of course not. He has to wait for me for help him. Of course he proceeds to take a long time, tries to talk to me as if I don’t know what I found out, and then finally takes his leave a long ass time later. Then he comes in to place his order. Then he comes in to pick up his order. This story repeats once more. Also, I hope the dude realizes he wears monthly lenses, because he’s going through those damn things by the truckload. I might mention him wearing dailies because in 6 months, the guy has gone through almost two years of lenses. Also because I’m a snarky, observant bitch.
So then a month later, when the whole Mike issue was going on, I walk into the studio where I take classes and guess who I see? Yup. In fact, the guy is standing right in the entrance of my classroom so I can’t get past him. He makes this huge show of being happy to see me and I was trapped into making small talk. I was about to say something, but I honestly didn’t think yelling “Get the fuck out my face!!” in an art studio was appropriate. I’d never been so happy to see my teacher arrive and save me. Then again this week the dude walks in and asks for another quote on contacts. Does he think we change the price every week? So then he wants to stand at my desk and talk about how busy he is, you know, with the end of semester (he’s a professor). I’m only supposed to have to see this tool twice a year, tops. Once yearly for his exam, another time if he buys his contacts in 6 month increments. I’ve seen this dude in the last 6 months more times than I’ve seen my brother.
Also, he never gets the message. He lurks in the waiting room, wearing his tool suit, drinking his tool coffee, all brooding and angsty as he waits for me to finish up with my patients. He’s always like “Oh, hello Kate? Fancy meeting you here… How are you? It’s so good to (I’m a tool) see (I’m a tool) you (tool, tool, tool).” “I’m just so busy with my (tool) job, see my (tool tool tool) briefcase, it’s so good to be (incomprehensible noise)….” I can’t focus in on what he’s saying for more than a sentence. I listen just enough to get him when he needs from the office, but I just can’t muster any sort of interest for anything beyond. I don’t ask him questions, I don’t show interest… I’m polite of course, but brief and direct.
This guy is becoming a running joke at work. Seriously, who does that shit besides Edward Cullen wannabes?
Mr. Twilight can go lurk in someone else’s window and be a creep. I have no time for pathetic attempts to be brooding and mysterious, especially when I know that there is no reason for this guy to be visiting my place of work at least once a month. Also, it’s never gonna happen, and I have no clue what he’s wanting out of our exchanges. Because it can not be copious amounts of contacts, unless he’s eating them or something…
Wait, what if he is?