Blintz Stalker Boy

7 Jul

I met this guy at a bar in Brooklyn.  (How many stories can I possibly start with that?) I end up giving him my card.  He texts soon after and we have a cute exchange.  I’m sort of excited about it but after that night’s text exchange, he falls off the face of the earth and I never hear from him again.  A few months later I get this facebook message:

 

did i meet you at habana?

there’s a new bar by my place that has one of those mechanical bulls that people get drunk and ride (gag!).

things are getting more disneyish every day.

naturally i thought of you when i saw it.

i lost your number in a freak accident and i want it back.

get a drink with me?

 

He was really attractive so I write something snarky back and agree to meet him for a drink.  We meet and even though he’s so hot, he only talks about himself and his bizarre all-boy Christian high school the whole time and I’m so bored.  We sort of awkwardly part ways and I don’t hear from him.

A couple of weeks later I’m at work and I look up and there he is.  He walks up to my desk and says that he was in the neighborhood and wanted to give me something.  I can’t remember if I actually ever told him where I worked and am shocked that if I mentioned it in passing, he even remembered.  He drops a greasy paper bag onto my desk that has my name written on the outside and runs away.  I open the bag and find two sweaty blintzes in a tin.  I’m sort of starving so I eat them even though I think it’s so strange and all of my co-workers look really weirded out.  I text him something about being really surprised and he doesn’t write back but shows up again instead.  At this point I’m really busy at work but awkwardly leave my desk to go chat with him and he says that we should get a drink again and he’ll call me.  Instead of doing that, he shows up at my job again the next week, but this time he’s sans treat.  I’m really annoyed at this point, because not only did he not call me, he’s bothering me at work again and didn’t even bring a snack.

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