Thursday, September 09, 2004

prom date

I have a stalker. She is in high school. Thus making her my high school stalker.

I realize that the term "stalker" is somewhat broad in common usage. For example, Elizabeth has some guy who calls her a lot. That's her stalker. But my mom had some guy who liked to hang out in our backyard, make obscene phone calls, and vandalize her Volvo. That guy was her stalker. The point being, there is a wide spectrum of stalkericity.

Mine falls in the middle somewhere. I would like to think that she's closer to backyard-guy than call-a-lot guy, but I susepect that her stalking is fairly moderate. It's a bit shy of Alicia Silverstone and far removed from Glenn Close. So since I haven't been attacked by bees, nor have I had to drown her in my bathtub, I guess I'm pretty safe.

My stalker likes to tell people that we're dating. And that we went to prom together. And that she's moving to California with me. As soon as she graduates high school.

While she doesn't appear to pose any physical threat to me or my vehicle, Lubbock is a small town, and having a delusional high school girl going around telling everybody that we're dating and subsequently eloping has the possibility of making my life more difficult than it absolutely has to be. That was a long sentence. Kudos to me.

But the fact that it's a small town also works for me, because I've been livin' in it a long time and everybody loves me and always feels the need to keep me informed of any circumstances that they feel to be adverse to my interests. Like high school girls claiming to date me, which very easily fits in that category.

So a lady-friend of mine, who works with high school kids in the youth ministry of a local church, caught wind of this, and was kind enough to inform me. She was even kind enough to at least act like she didn't completely believe it. Although tragically she informed me while in the company of Dallas.

Dallas is a buddy of mine with whom I share absolutely zero common interests, besides our shared loves for Jesus and for trying to embarrass each other in front of dames. And by dames, I mean skirts. And by skirts, I mean broads. For example: I like to pretend to hug people and then make-out with them, and Dallas is dating a 6'3" albino golfer. Named Greg.

But when he found out that I was ostensibly dating a high school girl, I was done.

"So, have you talked to [stalker's name] today?"

"Shut it."

"Why not? Are you guys in a fight?"

"Don't you have a football game to watch?"

"You should call her. Communication is the key, you know."

And to answer your question before you ask: it doesn't matter if she's legal. Pervs. Legal or not, third-year law students who lead discipleship groups shouldn't date high school girls, so I'm not crazy about the prospect of people thinking that I am. Not that I haven't been accused of worse, because I have, and quite recently, but my record is getting full of these imaginary offenses.

People like to dwell on the made-up stuff, which is annoying, because I've done plenty of bad stuff in real life that's way more interesting. Like the time I shot a man in Tucson just to watch him die. Or that time I stabbed a hobo on a dare. That's way worse/cooler than anything a crazy female could make up.

I've gone and done it again and forgotten completely where I was going with this post. I usually like to wrap it all up nice, but I feel that necessity dictates that I conclude with this:

If you heard about it from a crazy female, I didn't do it. And that includes dating high school girl(s).

This post will self-destruct in like, a few days or something.