I had been aware of his presence for quite some time, having spied him upon his arrival. I intentionally stayed out of his line of vision, as I had no desire to engage in even the most elementary of conversations with this man.
I had never met him in person, however we shared acquaintances in common. This fact alone was disturbing to me.
I had interacted with him briefly, to extend some condolences regarding the pain he was suffering at the termination of his marriage. He had expressed this pain on my friend's blog and was confusing his pain and anger at his wife's abandonment with the topic of the day which involved inequality among the sexes.
Because I originally viewed him as genteel, I wanted to make sure he stepped back and did not involve himself in the very intense debate that had arisen.
He verbally expressed his appreciation and little more was said. A few days and a few blogs later (after my debate opponent had sent him an email) he "friend requested" me. Having little worry about a man who seemed more of a pussy than a prick, I accepted. It was simply easier.
He continued to send emails and I attempted to keep the tone light and a bit dismissive. I was not looking for a mate.
Last weekend he extended several invitations to the same event. Although he could see that I had not opened the invitations, he continued to send them. He also sent them to my friend who writes the blog. She told him she was seeing someone, and it worked (or so we thought at the time). She advised me to do the same.
Having already had my fill of the multiple variables in this incestuous little MySpace world, I had already decided to delete my page and thought nothing of the unanswered invitations from this new contact. Mostly because I opened them after the event to which I had been invited.
I was not accustomed or comfortable with random invitations to join complete strangers out in any venue. Especially when there was no acquaintance who could speak to that person's level of perceived sanity.
I also never quite grasped why people would be anxious to spend quality time with complete strangers that they have not a thing in common with other than a pulse.
It mattered not, as my page was now gone and I believed that to be the end of it.
Fast forward a week to the same friend's birthday party.
She had extended an open invitation to anyone and their mother. Literally.
It was not my party. Not my deal.
She's my friend.
I attended the party.
And then I saw HIM walk in. The email guy.
*FUCK!*
I maintain eye contact with another friend as I see HIM notice me. I had already told her of HIM.
I ignore his presence and continue chatting with her.
He moves to stand in my peripheral.
He hovers awaiting a chance for me to turn and acknowledge him.
(Why do I need to? We have never met! This is not my effing party and he is not my friend!)
I can feel myself yet again getting pissy about people's lack of respect for another's personal space and general social etiquette.
I turn and he says, "Hi Cory."
*blood runs cool and hairs raise on back of my neck*
"Hi," I reply.
Feeling I have dismissed him, I say nothing more and scan the room for my high school friend who has flown in for the weekend.
He, being socially retarded and more than a mite obtuse continues to speak and confronts me about why I deleted him from my friend list.
I smile understanding the confusion and calmly explain to him that I didn't delete him, I deleted my page. I expect that to be the end of it. Nope.
"Why?" he inquires.
I look at him with a smirk.
"It was just a decision I made. I have a lot going on and it seemed unnecessary to keep the page."
Period.
Period.
Period.
I am honestly irritated at this point because I do not feel that I owe a complete stranger any explanations as to why I take a shit or the consistency thereof. I quite frankly don't think I owed anyone an explanation and feel that anyone who was afforded one was either quite fortunate or actually important to me.
He was neither.
I smile as sweetly as possible, considering that I am loathing the general environment and many of the people in it. I spot my high school friend and walk over to her.
Multiple times this man would seek me out and attempt to engage. I would always smile. Chat for a moment and move away.
I do not like strange men.
I do not like strange men who are so lonely and dysfunctional that they seek out a party of total strangers and expect to be accepted as if we too went "way back". We had already had ourselves such a poser in the early Spring. I felt our quota had been met.
At some point I wind down and relax on one of the number of comfy leather couches in this quaint little bar and make myself cozy by an open window.
HE of course hovers somewhere close by. The type of hovering where he is maintaining the visual contact and is very literally observing my every move.
It is my unfortunate luck that a friend sitting next to me on the couch leaves to fetch another beverage.
HE uses this opportunity to sit next to me.
*dammitfuthamuckersonofabitch!*
Having committed to keeping the birthday bash centered on my friend, I simply ignore HIS new position and gaze out the window up at the sky and over at the architecture of the tall building just outside.
I let my mind wander to the activities of the people inside and what their view might be...
He starts speaking to me.
He is asking personal questions.
Originally, I smile politely and say nothing. I look him in the eye. Smile. Say nothing. I am trying to silently convey to him that I am affording him the peace and respect that he is not affording me. He is however, on a mission.
"I watched that cancer trailer", he says. (He is referring to "CrazySexyCancer". I had posted something about it.)
I look at him.
"I watched it for you, you know." He smiles at me in a way that seems as though he believes this will bond us much like Crazy Glue bonded that construction cap to that steel beam. Yeah, marketing is fun.
I smile. I thank him. I look away.
His voice and speech patterns make my skin crawl. He looks like the love child of John Mayer and Charles Manson, with the speech pattern of Billy Bob Thornton's character in Slingblade. This could not be any less intriguing or attractive...unless he were to defecate right there on the coffee table. (Is that a clear enough visual for you?)
He has no idea my fear of men who act this particular way. He has no idea how I do not like unfamiliar environments until I have made myself feel at ease. I would never feel that sitting next to this intrusive man next to an open window that was not at ground level. Never.
He was getting angry.
I was frustrating him.
This only served to make me more tense.
I had done this before to males and it did not work out well for me.
I started to get goosebumps. I felt nauseous and panicked. I had stood to hug another friend good-bye and knew my legs were not stable.
I was angry at myself.
*dammit!*
I knew I should not have come.
I searched in my head for a way to relax him without lying to him and knew that there was not one.
As he continued to ask penetrating questions that I quietly ignored, I finally looked at him, smiled and tried in my most joking tone to ask him, "You do know this is a party, right?" I softly chuckled and returned my gaze out the window.
My body language could not have been any more closed off without leaving a bruise.
I was noticeably and visibly nervous and freaked out by this man. Anyone who knew me saw this. I had started trembling. This alone pissed me off...at myself.
He finally got up and walked away, but continued to hover and continued to keep his eyes on me. He even went so far as to follow me to the restroom area. I was thankful that my friend from high school was tuned in to my frequency. She was my eyes when I could not be.
I ducked and hid from him a bit more, before finally going outside to the street below for some fresh air and a new perspective. My fresh perspective brought the new emotion of frustration.
I had watched him out of the corner of my eye once the red flags went up. I had observed him interacting verbally and physically with other women. This should have relaxed me. It didn't. Why were these women not holding his attention? Why was he seeking me out and following me around?
We spot a bar next door and duck in to relax.
I breathe.
I cannot simply leave as I am the designated driver to my friends. I have to stay close.
Another friend I had been awaiting the arrival of arrives and thinks I have left. I talk to her on the cell and get her up to speed. She has only moments before met this man and knows exactly whom I am speaking of. She texts me that HE is coming down.
Again I feel cold and shiver.
I move behind a wall and watch him walk past the restaurant window never considering that I am there and not on my way home.
I exhale.
We stay for a while and the friends that have trusted me with their safe arrival home come down to join us as does the other friend who had arrived late.
I am ready to leave, but have mentally regressed to that one day back in college. I am angry at myself. I am angry at this man. I am angry at my friend who keeps her filters open to so much dysfunction. I detach.
You never know what your words or actions will trigger in another. I have to be responsible for putting myself in that situation. I make conscious steps to avoid certain situations. Now I know that I cannot attend functions coordinated by this friend and will have to simply make separate arrangements to spend quality time with her, if our schedules allow it.
It was a fascinating experience for me, once I detached. Once detached I was able to explore my fears and emotions and the "why factor". I was able to consider what might be going on in HIS head as well as what drives the psyche of my friend to welcome such individuals into her personal space.
Happy that this was the last big "function" planned for the season, I concentrate on the road ahead and crash heavily in the comfort of my perfect little bed in my personal little room in my personal little space. I am home.
He stood before me in his ripped black concert t-shirt, belly protruding and told me about his Christmas.
