Happy St. Patrick’s Day, friends! This is the one day of the year when we all pretend like we have the tiniest bit of Irish blood, and we also pretend to like Guinness. For the past few years (and coincidentally, for every St. Pat’s Matt and I have spent together), March 17th has been extremely low key. I typically end up having to work over the weekend, so Friday and Saturday night festivities are out of the question. And going out on a week night at this age?!? In your dreams!
You may not believe it, but I had some incredibly interesting St. Paddy’s back in the day. Those stories include the time I had my first sip of smirnoff, hanging out at Shamrock Fest in the pouring rain, hanging out at Shamrock Fest another year and meeting a very nice, blind gentleman, and recruiting a friend-of-a-friend to be my fake boyfriend for the night.
|I promise I was wearing green under all the rain gear.|
All those stories must await another day, however, because today I’m going to tell you the St. Pat’s story that takes them all–the St. Paddy’s Stalker.
It was Winchester and the year was 2011. I had a new job, a new haircut, and I was finally starting to feel like I wasn’t in the middle of a quarter life crisis. Naturally, I had quite the spring in my step and was ready to spend the holiday at karaoke with my friends.
The night was a huge success. Sure, I may not have given my best performance when I attempted “Damn I Wish I was Your Lover,” but I totally killed it when I sang “Come on Eileen,” and I walked away with two numbers that night. As things were winding down and I was attempting to corral the group to walk home (I was with two friends who were staying with us, and another coworker at that point). I was standing by my friend, trying to make sure she pulled it together and paid her tab, when I noticed a guy quite obviously checking me out. I glance in his direction one time and apparently that was all he needed.
He sauntered on over and proceeded to tell me how I was so beautiful, “like a goddess,” and blah blah blah. I can’t tell you how many times I tried to communicate to him that I was leaving with my friends, but yet, he persisted. In fact, he persisted so much so that he decided to follow us out the door and down the street.
Now, I know it sounds like I should have been scared, but this kid was not at all intimidating–he acted like a lost puppy, but not in a cute way. I suppose you might say all vicious stalkers seem innocent at first, but I also had two co workers with me who were much larger than he was (including one the size of a lumberjack), so I never felt unsafe, I just felt annoyed.
We all got back to my apartment and he was still there–he literally followed me home. I was too busy keeping my other friend from making a PLD with the lumberjack that I didn’t even realize he was still there. He kept making excuses like “I just moved here, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where my friend lives!” and “my friend was supposed to drive me and he’s gone, I can’t sleep in my car!”
At that point, I was tired and over his drama. He seemed to think that he might actually get somewhere with me–until I put some blankets in the living room and told my guy friend, Cameron, that he was his responsibility and to handle it. At that, my friend and I went to my room and shut the door, but not after he asked me to come tell him a story because he was scared and couldn’t sleep.
Cameron apparently handled it, because he was gone the next morning, but he kept texting me saying that he “slept in his car :(” and that “wasn’t like him” and he’s “so embarrassed.” I never responded, and the next time I saw him out at the bar I was with Matt and he was walking around looking real bitter. Here’s some advice, buddro: if you want to have a chance with a girl, don’t be creepy, and definitely don’t follow her home.
Friends, I realize this could have ended badly, but he was definitely not a threat. There are some real creepers out there, so be careful–always make sure you’ve got a safe way to get home, don’t accept rides or candy from strangers, and don’t make eye contact unless you mean it.
Have a safe and happy St. Patrick’s Day, and for the love of the Irish, would somebody please drink some green beer for me? In return, please enjoy this playlist of all the Irish (or close enough) songs I could dream up.