The Stalker


Remember the hook-up that didn’t happen yesterday? The effeminate dude that I turned down?
Well, he is stalking me — cell phone calls and text messages and online messages. All day.
“You’re really what I’m looking for,” he said over the phone. “You’re tall and handsome and have beautiful eyes. I wanna give you some booty whenever you have time.”
He gives me both his cell phone numbers and the times he is available.
It’s ironic because I’m cheating on a woman and he is cheating on his male partner. I notice his availability time ends about an hour before this dude gets home from work at 7 p.m. Guess stalker needs that hour to clean up the evidence.
“I MUST have some of that dick,” the stalker says in an email.
I try to be nice when he calls my cell phone later. “Look, man it just didn’t work out and I’m busy,” I said. “I do a lot of sales work and I’m ripping and running all day. Maybe we can hook up some other time.”
He doesn’t get the message that I’m really not into him.
In the afternoon he sends a cell text message saying I can come by and “stretch his hole” anytime. I get this text while I’m driving. I happened to stop at a traffic light and glanced down at it. That’s it. Enough is enough.
I send back a text message while driving, one hand on the wheel and the other tapping keys. I think, “Wouldn’t it be some shit if stalker got me in an accident?”
I type: “Look man, you’re a nice person but you’re not my type. Take care of yourself.”
Less than a minute later his response comes. “So thats wassup…”
I don’t answer. That’s wassup.

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