The Mini Stalker

I sometimes suffer from the gum-stuck-to-the-shoe problem. You know, you’re doing your thing, walking around, being yourself, and – bam, – step on something you didn’t see and now the sole of your shoe is covered in gum. How irritating.

The same happens with people sometimes, right? I have a semi-stalker story.

I’m not really bothered by the idea of having a stalker. It was never on the list of “scary things”. Of course, the stalker I have in my mind is the non-threatening type who is too shy to approach me. Something who isn’t frightening or leaving dead pigeons on my doorstep.

I met this person at a celebration last year, and we danced and talked a lot. I definitely received a lot of compliments, which is always nice. He seemed jolly. Was dressed smart, which suited him. Among a group of friends (and without saying much of anything, really) he seemed interesting, so we decided to hang out.

Oh God.

We drove to the beach – or, rather, the “beach” here in Toronto (I don’t count anything that’s on a real ocean as a beach, which does not mean I’m criticizing the Beaches neighborhood – I love it there) – to hang out.  Halfway there, I already felt bored. I talked about work, that fills up some time, and I get really passionate about it.

He didn’t have a job. Oh?

Acting aspirations. Oh, of course! Former snowboard instructor. Oh, that type.

I’ll spare you the date itself, but we sat on a bench, and looked at serene water. It’s not that I started to run out of topics for conversations, it’s that I received agreement to EVERYTHING. He lacked any kind of opinion. He nodded to everything. Or simply had nothing to say.

Then he took out a sketchbook and we did a minimalist rendition of what was in front of us. Few lines, a flicker of a bird, child digging in the sand.

Anyway, I won’t spare you the rest of the depressing details, but I had to kick him out in the evening, after having invited friends over to save me from this terrible visitor.

I never saw him in person again.

But my oh my, did I receive phone calls from random numbers (since he didn’t have a cell phone at the time)! I always received Facebook chats from him. And he liked every status update of mine. And said weird things like, “Hey, you’re a good one.” Yeah, duh. Except that coming from him that phrase sounded oblique and obscure.

And then there were invites to most ridiculous events like the Jay Z concert afterparty. I responded, “uh, sorry, I’m not into rap”. And he said, “Yeah, right, I know u like beatz” or something like that. I think the comment was inspired by my interests in techno. There is a world of difference between Jay Z and German minimal techno.

I received messages with various numbers I should call, and invitations to come out when I was visiting his city. Then he moved to Toronto. Tried to meet up with me, but by then I ignored all his messages.

I didn’t contact him at all, but then he apparently came by my house! He messaged with “Did you get my message from the little Asian lady?” I was a dubious as I didn’t receive anything. He said he was in the ‘hood (uh-huh) and left me a message via her.

That’s where my patience expired.

Seriously. What next – waiting by my work or my house?

So I said, “are you gonna be my stalker now?” he got all offended. Thank gods he did, I wanted him off my back! He finally stopped pestering me and I deleted him from Facebook. No more reminders.

Peaceful!

Takeaway: If there is some advice that I can give, that is to cut the potential stalkers in the beginning. Nip it in the bud. If you have a nice girl (or guy – we all know of a guy with a crazy ex-girlfriend story!) tendencies, you may want to lay it down like it is before they build an imaginary post-wedding life with you.

Against boredom the gods themselves fight in vain

That’s what Nietzsche said. (We will return to him eventually)

I also realize that us human beings should feel less guilty about being bored. From time to time. I was raised to believe that I am bored because I can’t entertain myself, or I am bored because I don’t participate enough, or I become bored because I’m stuck in a rut.

Not once was a possibility of the other person being a hopeless and uninteresting bore, explored. Guess what? I’m an educated woman, with a vast array of interests from Italian futurists to 17th century Japanese poetry to financial hedging to squash to Burgundy wine to Czech new wave cinema. And more. I’m able to carry on a conversation, and I can probably recall several interesting points from the last issue of The Economist and a Hemingway book is very likely to fall out of my purse. I can make you laugh and can produce many topics for conversation. So don’t give me the “it’s your problem” answer. It may very well be yours.

Last month I went on two dates with the guy I’m going to tell you about.

When I first met him, M, at a party, I thought he was pretty interesting. He threw out some Russian literature cards (I’m starting to think that anyone who is capable of reading and producing some thoughts brings out the ardent interest in Brothers Karamazov), mentioned having studied philosophy and physics, backpacked around Europe and northern Africa and expressed interest in teaching (down the road). Sounded good.

So we went on a first date, most of which was spent talking about the past – we were telling stories of our European travel to each other, discussed some philosophy, some school, past accomplishments, current jobs, aspirations. Towards the end I kind of noticed that all interesting discussions revolved around his past. His present was full of managing his dad’s printing shop (a little boring), living in Hamilton (where is that? I’ve never been) and going out with the same married friends and not liking hooking up with random people at bars. Okay.

I wasn’t particularly heart-broken to part several hours later. I happily inhaled the fresh October air and went onward with my Saturday evening.

The second date was a killer. We went to an all-you-can eat sushi place, Aji Sai on Queen West, to enjoy some raw fish before going to a movie. The food was great, I was happy to stuff my face with salmon and tuna sashimi because I was growing a little bored of the conversation.  Talking about the present with this guy was not that fun – I wasn’t interested in stories about his friends (married and with problems — what a great turn on; what am I supposed to say besides that some of his friends are bored/made a mistake early in their life/are doomed to the suburban hell?). I wasn’t interested in his future, I wasn’t even particularly excited to hear about technical issues at work and the runaround that gave him.

I couldn’t help but wonder why it was that I really wanted to check my phone, text my roommate to come rescue me, or see what Twitter has been up to, anything to distract myself from the guy.

Then half-way through my own sentence (something really high-pitched and unintelligent – subconsciously I started trying to say anything to un-attract him from myself) I realized how utterly bored I was. And that I was SO looking forward to the movie part of our evening, because I wouldn’t have to talk to him. Poor soul.

Joking and chuckling in the car, we got to the movie theatre and I insisted on watching An Education (which is great, go see it) instead of Paranormal Activity, because I sure wasn’t 1) going to mix my bored feelings for him with the apparently terrifying demon haunting of the latter movie and 2) there was no way in hell I was gonna bring him home with me to fight possible nightmares about aforementioned demons.

After the movie I was stupid enough to agree to keep on hanging out. So I brought him to my neighborhood bar and mentioned that my roommates are going to visit very soon as well! God, I needed my roommates there as the conversation with M became inbred – we talked about absolute bullshit. He brought up his ex, and how he wants to settled down, and how I could visit Hamilton (I don’t want to go to Hamilton) and so on and so forth.

Then he tried to invite himself over as both of us got pretty tired, and around midnight I became adamant on leaving the bar and going to bed. He wondered if he could crash, and usually I let my friends stay if, heck, the way home is long and such, but I wanted to get rid of this guy ASAP, and definitely didn’t want to deal with him in the morning. Personal space, please. Anyway, I got rid of him and decided that it was time to draft a rejection letter before all this boredom got out of control.

Photo by scragz on flickr

Takeaway: If you find yourself utterly bored with another person, don’t take it as your inability to be interesting or your “snobbishness”. There are plenty of people who aren’t intellectually compatible with you. Nip it in the bud and stop wasting your time on thinking about how to get out of the miserable situation. And definitely spread the word to other ladies and gentlemen out there. Boredom is a sin, rid yourself of it.