Saturday.. his shift was over, but he won’t go home. So I ask him…
“Wait.. what did you say?”
“Like I said, I picked up the phone and said…Hello?…and she just started talking, about just bullshit. I got no clue who she is. I kept trying to change the conversation or even get a single word in, but she kept changing the subject. Now it’s 5 minutes later, and I can’t just say, like, ‘who the fuck are you again?’. It’s gone too far.”
“I’d do it. I couldn’t care less. This is silly”
“I can’t do that!”
“So, what happened?’
“I hung up on her.”
“Nice”
“Then she texts me, ‘Are you angry?’ I mean, she acts like we’re old friends, and I have no idea who the hell she is.”
“You’re obsessing. Who gives a shit?”
“I need to know who this girl is!”
I stare at him for a minute. “If it was a guy, would we still be talking about this?”
“If it was a guy, we’d be like ‘Hello?, ‘Hello-oh, sorry’, and hang-up”
“That’s not my point. If it WAS a guy, you wouldn’t be borderline obsessive-compulsive now. You know what I mean.”
“Whatever. I’m calling Missy to she if she let one of her friends copy numbers from her phone. I just don’t know.”
“Jesus Christ! You could have called ‘Missy’ or whatever hours ago and cleared this up. Hell, for that matter, you could have just called the cell number back! You obviously want to screw this crazy chick vary badly”
“I can’t call her back! That’d be the same as asking her who she was the first time! This is driving me nuts. I’m going home to do some angry masturbation”
“I told you a week ago that if I heard another stupid Adam Sandler reference out of your mouth, I’d kill you.”
“Hey.. Maybe she’s got GPS on her phone!”
“Great. Now you can be and idiot and a stalker”
