The Sidewalk Store (no, scary man, i don’t want to give you my phone number)

Text no, scary man, i don’t want to give you my phone number

just dug up this old classic. so, these are the ramblings of a gentleman scorned. a very nice young gentleman who i had met on the beach who wanted to take me out and treat me like the nice little lady i am. judging by the tone of his message, i probably really missed out on a good thing when i might have over-detected a few measley red flags after a couple of prior conversations that sounded like “what? why do you want to meet THERE? why can’t i just pick you up at YOUR HOUSE? what’s up wit that?” or like “oh your busy? with CLASS? bullshit you’re just blowing me off.” and I just met him…?

and then there’s the voice-mail:

“You know that you’re making this extremely difficult so you know it’s almost like a fucking game ummm you know and then you’re like “unhhhh I feel pressured fucking unhhhh” …fucking stupid dude. Just grow up, fucking handle responsibility and, you know, fucking that’s it dude. Fucking, just be fucking normal, dude, welcome to fucking America, dude. I don’t know what fucking country you grew up in dude but you know —I’m just a fucking guy trying to meet a girl, you know fucking der de derrrr”

No shit, he really said “der de derrrrrrr” like the kind of sound you make to simulate someone walking about unawares of the tree that they are about to walk into… and yes, i transcribed every bit of this voice mail and saved it in a word document like 7 years ago. priceless artifact.