And he won’t stop calling me.
I feel awful whenever his caller id comes up. I know it’s him because no one local ever calls my land line. HIs voice messages sound so earnest and eager. But I’m just not interested.
He seemed nice when he first approached, though he has to be at least 20 years my senior. I should have told him then that I wasn’t taking applications, but he came at me like a whirlwind while I was in a just-got-off-of-work-and-I’m-tired funk. I wasn’t on my usual guard. He said a few things that made me smile, so when he asked for my number, I didn’t give him a fake one like I normally do. As I wrote it down for him, I thought to myself, “I’m doing something risky, talking to this man, but maybe I should stop being Miss Prudish Priss and give someone a chance. You know, be a normal girl for a change. I can’t say no to people forever.” I hate being the “no” girl all the time. I’ve never said yes to anyone, and it’s starting to get old.
It would have been alright if he had just let me walk away. Maybe I would have answered his call and let him “woo” me. But no, he had to pull me across the street and show me his car (a battered minivan). All the while talking about how much money he has. He pointed out his Vietnam Vet license plate holders (two of them), and then opened his front seat and pulled out a thick manilla folder. Inside was a stack of Xeroxed newspaper articles involving him. But none of them were good, human interest stories. No, all of them involved him suing someone. The DMV. The department of corrections. The lottery. He had all the settlement amounts circled and highlighted, for easy reference. These settlements, he told me, were the source of a lot of his income, along with his tractor trailer and flight instructor jobs. “I got a lotta money, pretty lady, and nobody to spend it on.” Suddenly, this “nice” guy didn’t seem so nice. I instantly regretted dropping my defenses and giving out my number so easily, but I gave him a cheerful farewell.
Before we departed, he gave me this poem he wrote, about attitude and its power on your life. It was actually kind of good, in a Sunday School Words-of-Inspiration kind of way. But I’m not a gold-digger. I can’t be with someone who thinks money is the way to my heart, or that I’d be impressed with him suing anyone with a pulse. He kept saying he could tell I was intelligent, but he never asked what I did for a living. It was all about his money and getting with a “pretty, laid-back” girl like me. A guy like that screams married to me, as well as some other things.
So now he’s called about six times and left two messages. I feel guilty, listening to that ringing phone, but I can’t answer it. I hate myself for being so weak and scary, but I hate even more that I got myself in this situation. I kinda want to tell him why I’m not interested, since none of my reasons seem petty (he’s not hideous looking, and while the age difference is an obstacle, it wouldn’t be insurmountable). But I don’t want to give him a chance to defend himself, because then I might turn wussy again and do something (like go out with him) when I don’t want to.
Dammit, when am I going to be able to say “yes” to someone and actually be able to answer their calls?
