Because of who I am I deem it only necessary to start this new website of mine off with a funny little story. If I get a little wordy…blame my mother. You can also blame my obnoxious enthusiasm I get when telling a story. Really though, who can sit down and tell a story? I have to have a whole production going. Sitting down and typing a story is a new thing for me so bare with me.
So, let me just set this up for you. I just graduated college and received a job in Seattle, WA. I had a month of summer before I had to move up there, a state I have never been to that was on a coast I have never even been to. I would go from living with four of my best girlfriends and being surrounded by family and friends to living in a one-bedroom apartment thousands of miles away from anyone I knew, alone. Before I had to go up into what I now call “isolation,” my family and I decided to take a trip to Mexico! Get a little bit of fiesta in with my people real quick.
We get to the Hard Rock hotel in Cancun and this place was incredible! It had a night club built into it with a DJ and lights going crazy and an indoor swimming pool inside the club! So, at this night club I meet this group of guys. I was talking to one of them (who was shorter but bulky but in a muscular way) because I thought he would be my “in” to talk to his tall blonde friend. I finally started talking to Blondie and then Bulky got mad and ran away so then Blondie had to chase him, goodnight to them. Next morning, we (my sister and I) see them at the pool and I find out Blondie likes my, five years younger but hotter than me, sister… so I say, “whatever I’ll talk to Bulky because we still have a week here and they are fun.” So yadda yadda vacation goes on and we hang out with them more and I exchange numbers with Bulky (after probably about 12 kamikaze shots).
I get back to Missouri and Bulky goes back to where he was from, I think Denver? But we continue texting. I move to Seattle, we continue to text and Facetime. I have him come visit me in Seattle, because homegirl is lonely! We ride the Seattle ferris wheel and do all touristy things. Then he leaves, and he starts texting me that he loves me! A few things wrong with that right? And he also starts getting angry if I let five minutes go by without texting him back. So, I’m like wayho that is moving pretty fast and you are being crazy and I tell him that I’m not feeling it anymore and I don’t want to talk anymore, that “we are done with whatever this was.” Well… I don’t think he liked that too much…
A few days after telling him this, I am laying on my couch after work and almost asleep. I hear a knock on my door… Do you know how terrifying hearing knocks on your door is when you live alone and you didn’t order pizza! I look out my peep hole and I don’t see anything. Hmm, weird. I open my door slowly and staring straight back at me was Bulky… Bulky and his TWO, yes two, heavy-duty, very large, roll away suitcases. Ummmm….
He walks in… crying, and sits on my couch… I am awkwardly standing at my front door. He kept apologizing and saying how much he loved me. Remember in my previous blog about how I said I’m an awkward human? Yeah well all I could think to say to him was… “I need to call my mom.” So, he went on a “walk” and I called my mom and the conversation went like this:
“MOM! What the hell do I do, Bulky just showed up at my door with two suitcases!”
“Ashley, what do you mean? Are you okay? That is so creepy!”
“Yeah I know, I’m scared. I don’t know what he is going to do when I tell him he cant stay here because he is already crying and looking crazy.”
“Text “911” on your phone but don’t send it to me unless you need to after you tell him to leave”
“Okay.”
I call him back in and I tell him he needs to leave. He then begins to cry harder and say he does not have money to get back. Wait, what?! The two suitcases make sense now. He thinks he is going to move in with me… I guess I should have gathered that when he first walked in and told me he quit his job. I guess “I don’t want to talk anymore you are way too much for me” transfers to “Hey, come move in with me.” Noted. I felt awful but told him “I’m sorry but you really have to go.” He then sits back on my couch (I am awkwardly at my kitchen table texting all my friends) he starts bawling and he calls Blondie, on SPEAKERPHONE, and cries to him saying “I’m not doing good man, she won’t take me back I don’t know how to get back.” If Mr.Webster was sitting in the room he would have changed his definition of “awkward” to: “when a girl tells a guy to leave and then he sits down on her couch and starts weeping to his friend on speakerphone talking about her right in front of her and she is sitting there wondering if he heard the “you need to leave my place” part.” Keep in mind: we have hung out twice and texted. He eventually leaves, but not after he grabs me and gives me a huge bear hug that almost crushes my bones while my arms are still straight down my sides… Safe to say I stayed up all night terrified he would find his way back in. When my mom told my dad what happened he said he got in his truck, in Missouri, and just started driving, thinking he was coming to help. Bless Chesters soul.
Okay! So that happened. I tell my coworkers and they are freaked out but also laughing about it. Months go by and I have blocked him from everything so I’m like okay cool he is gone and I’m done with that weird incident.
I come home from work one day and go to the mail room because I am expecting my comforter from my parents. Here is the dialogue with the mail man (who I had become friends with already):
“Hey, anything in there for me?”
“Yeah! A big box.”
“Perfect, my comforter!”
“Its from *Insert Bulky’s first and last name*”
“Noooooo… No Paul, that name is not on that box, it can’t be that name, that is my stalker. You meant to say Shellie Bratton right?”
“Stalker? You have a stalker? Oh… well we could just return it to sender?”
“Wellllll…, I meannnn…, what if it’s like chocolate or something though and like fun things… maybe I should just open it.”
“Ash… you are going to open a package from your stalker?”
“WAIT! You don’t think he is in it, do you?”
“The package is six pounds.”
“Okay, so he’s probably not in it… yeah I will just like open it outside or something.” ….. because opening it outside makes any sort of difference in the world?
I bring it back to my apartment, well my front door step. I open it… first, I find… a mixed cd…okay, thank you sixth grade boyfriend, then I pull out a three page letter on all of the things he “loves” about me and I don’t know what else because I got too creeped out to continue reading it… lastly, I pulled out, which explains why the box said “fragile” on it… a hand-made full-functioning ferris wheel, made from sticks and hot glue, and in each basket, rolled up, were pictures of me… because WE RODE THE FERRIS WHEEL ONE TIME!
I don’t even want to know how long that took him to do while sitting in his mothers basement but wow… I didn’t know if I should return to sender so that he didn’t think I kept it or if then he would get mixed signals if I sent it back thinking if she put this much effort into sending it back then she cares… I ended up just throwing it all away… after I took a picture and sent it to all my friends, of course.
I guess my moral of this story is… having a stalker made me feel kind of pretty and desirable so if you are ever feeling down, go to a resort in Mexico and just pick yourself up a stalker. That advice is completely free, this time, you’re welcome. 😉
nakedforyou 