A Freak Is Off His Leash....

I'm just an ordinary girl, who some might consider to be a "Plain Jane." I've never been really pursued by anyone...except in fifth grade on the first day of school. This pale- skinned, dark curly-haired kid name Shilo had a mad crush on me. I mean really, I can't blame him. I was pretty damn cute with irresistable pig tails. He wrote me a note that asked me if I would be his girlfriend. I folded it up carefully after reading it and stuck it in my pocket. He assumed I'd answer the next day. But really, I went home and cried and showed my dad the note. I mean it was the FIRST day of school, and the boy totally freaked me out by his assertiveness!! So my dad, always my hero, went to my school and talked to the teacher. I'm not quite sure what she said to Shilo, but I never had to worry about that skinny little guy again. Actually, I never would have to worry about ANY guy ever again. =(

By the time I stopped being afraid of boys, I was in junior high, and this time I had a mad crush on big, brown-eyed Barrett. I told a friend who told his friend who told Barrett, and he said he wished I'd get run over with a Mack truck. And so ended that relationship. In high school, I took another stab at this thing called love. And pursued a tuba player named Wegus. I swear, I'm not making any of this stuff or the names up. These are the stories that make me, me. Anyway, Wegus was in interesting fellow. He loved to punch me in the arm. My friend Sherry told me that was the way guys show their affection. (Thankfully her husband has found other ways to show his affection) As dumb as I was, I believed her. So I let this FREAK punch me in the arm day in and day out. Soon the punching turned into trying to kick my legs to make me trip and then finally ended in sticking a frog down the back of my shirt. Yep, that was the last straw for me. Last I heard of Wegus, he was serving time in jail for beating up some guy.

Nowadays, I haven't had much luck in the guy department. And, it's not like random guys come up to me and ask for my name and number. If anything, the only interest I get is from some guy deep in the villages of Kerala who knows nothing more than my name, age, location, education, and religious background. And with that, is willing to be my lawfully wedded husband. All this brings me to the POINT at hand...

I got an email the other day from an individual, saying they read my story and I should write more and more and more. Then he thanked me for writing it. As I do with everyone who emails me in this manner, I responded, thanked him for his email, and asked him how he came across my book. His reply stated that he saw my very nice pic, wants me to add him to my friend list, and that he wants to know more about me because i'm sweet. My weirdar alert went off. But out of sheer curiousity, I wanted to know HOW HE FOUND MY BOOK. So, I wrote him again, said it was nice to meet him, and asked him he came across the book. His reply stated, "Thank you for sending your reply I recite it over and over again every day that I can." And he attached a picture of a pink rose.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Suddenly those feelings from 5th grade arose. I'm scared. Who is this guy? Why does he memorize and recite my emails? Why am I a freak magnet? If you have the answers to any or all of those questions please leave me a message in the box below.