When does the charm turn to crazy?
Remember the guy from high school who's enamored with me? Let's call him Van Gogh. Most of the time when I got messages from him, I don't write much back. I mean, what do you say to stuff like that--things about my "aura" and how amazing and sweet and good I am, how my existence makes his life better, etc, etc. Weird, and a little too Hollywood-fairy tale-love story for me.
Last weekend I sang at a Mass for First Communion. I hadn't heard from Van Gogh for a while, so I thought it was okay to shoot him a text saying there had been someone at Mass that looked like him. Hahaha. Silly me. He started by saying that he wished it had been him so he could be near me and see me, but that he's really glad something reminds me of him every once in a while. It's kind of a blur of lunacy after that for a while. It was more of the same back and forth: him laying ridiculous admiration on me and wanting me to give him a chance, me trying to logically say that there's no way he can have the opinion of me that he does.
Nobody could understand why I didn't just tell him he's a creep and to go screw himself. I dunno. It's probably the Catholic guilt. I do think he means well, and that he's harmless, but I think he's slightly delusional.
Eventually I said something about real life--how we'd never had a conversation that would lead to people actually getting to know each other: "how was your day?" "what do you do at your job?" "what makes you happy or pisses you off?"
He replied with things he's seen on the Facebook about my work and life, but still turned it super emotional. Trying to be a nice person and have patience, I told him to maybe try some mundane conversations. Because, you know, finding out about people's everyday lives are how you get to know them. Which is probably a good thing before you want to get all deep and ask about their hopes and dreams and ambitions. Ugh. So, anyway, he said he'd definitely do that.
The next day was dreary, so Van Gogh texted me about taking his dogs for a walk and feeling the wind and drizzle on his face and thinking about me. Except take that and translate it into Jane Austen or Charles Dickens or something like that...I can't do it justice. Then, kind of as an afterthought, he asked how my day was and noted that he's not very good at mundane, normal conversation. It then went on to something about how he can only do so much to be mundane, because he still has to be himself. But, he of course brought it back to me and how I make him feel. And that was it for general conversation.
That was enough. As much as I've tried to tell him that all the flattery and wooing is overwhelming and unappreciated, it makes no difference. I don't remember what I said, but I made pretty clear that I was sick of going in circles.
Later on, he asked me to give his heart back, because I'd stolen it. Cue my eye-rolling. Part of me wanted to tell him that I hadn't stolen anything, he'd tossed his feelings into some creep-o fantasy in his imagination. Reining it in, I just said he was being melodramatic; that life isn't a Jane Austen novel and I wouldn't want it to be. I told him I don't believe in soul mates or love at first sight; he told me I'm cynical. I relented to that one. He said a bunch of crap about my grace, what a beautiful creature I am, calling me "milady," etc. etc.
In a move of pure maturity, Van Gogh took a poll on the Facebook to see if people believe in love at first sight. Most didn't...what a surpriiiise! In the last conversation (I don't plan to have more), he acknowledged that most people agree with me, but that he still holds his position. I held fast to mine. Then I got a small novel about his feelings and when he saw me 2ish years ago. It was at a bar, he said the band played a great show (SO FALSE), that I caught him staring at me (nope.), and that I inexplicably gave him a hug when I was leaving.
Well, I know why. It was because I'd been drinking, and there were a couple of other people from high school. It was that awkward "I don't know what to do now because you obviously find me attractive but there's no way anything is going to happen" scene, and I didn't know what to do...so it was hugs all around.
Anyway, after trying not to rip my hair out, I told him that I didn't understand his feelings, but it didn't matter. That if you want someone to give you a chance, you have to do it on their terms. You can't force your weirdo-creepy-stalker feelings on them and expect them to like it. Alright I didn't say that last part. He told me he'd do anything on my terms. I didn't reply.
I'd say there's no doubt this one can be filed under Dahmer.
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