Round One

It started innocently enough, as most things often do -- an impish chortle, some light flirtatious, if not esoteric and strange, banter. And an agreement to hang out, nothing more, nothing less. Oh, that the agreement should soon be bastardized! And I, not one to be willfully and wantonly rude, soon became overwhelmed with seething desires to see no more of she what would grow fastidiously into the stuff of legend, nay, nightmare.

3 July 2011

A day I would soon quickly rue. Prior to this we had hung out for the previous two days, in small doses, and I was itching to spend my Independence Day relishing just that. Oh, what a fool I was.

Sam: Hey, can I come over? We can watch the fireworks later. If you want.

Actual Response: Eh, I guess so.

What I should have said (WISHS): NO. Leave me, foul wench! Thy presence doth in me harbor feelings most egregious and hatred laden!

It should be noted that when I wish to convey insult, I sometimes tend toward the language of yore as it seems more eloquent.

Anyway, come she did. And hang out did we in the park watching the fireworks. At the conclusion I thought my duty was done and that I would then proceed with my holiday plans of familial gatherings on the morrow. Didn't happen. Sam took our hanging in the park as an invitation back to my apartment where she stayed. And stayed. And stayed until the wee hours of the morn and I at one point thought of brandishing my pistol.

4 July 2011, 10:00AM (approx)

I awaken from a slumber to a sound upon my perimeter; a sudden sort of tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping on my chamber door.

Bewildered I awake,

My mind flush with thoughts of chocolate cake.

And to my door I stumble.

My mind forms nary a mumble.

Knob turning in frustration,

And in walks that which now is an aberration.

My still slumbering mind formulates that this scenario is unwelcome, having just rolled from my bed I feel no want or need of company, least of all before having been caffeinated. I groggily make it through the morning, growing more agitated the longer I am awake and forced into the socially awkward situation of unwanted guests. Around one of the clock, I throw the bitch out making up the excuse that I need to go to my parents house for afternoon tea (we don't drink tea but it sounds fancier).

Later that evening....

Sam: Hey! :) <insufferable emoticons> Want to hang out? We can watch a movie (secret girl code for I want to sit next to you and think of molesting you while I brush against your body)

Actual Response: I'm not home. Hanging out with friends.

WISHS: I have seen thy face more than desired and desire to do so less than half the time which I had.

I really was hanging out with friends, but not until much later. Small lie, oh well. Problem is, the persistence with which Sam in endowed knows no bounds and the entire night I was receiving more and more inane texts as I tried enjoying the company I was in to the point that I stopped responding.

Sam: Hey you, hope ur having a good time. Wish I were there.

WISHS: Well, you are not and I grow happy with each passing moment.

Sam: ...Ok, guess u don't want to talk right now. Have fun with ur friends.

WISHS: A better time than seeing your face! 

Sam: Wish u would speak, I want to know u r alive. I drove by ur place to see if u were home so I could see u.

WISHS: Bitch, if I say I ain't home don't fucking drive by all creepy. And you will speak when spoken to, now goodbye.

Sam: Suppose ur still with ur friends...I was hoping u would stop by if u left at a decent hour. Guess I'm not important enough lol.

WISHS: Yep, still am. And drunk as a motherfucker which is why I'm talking to you. Talking to you sober sucks away my soul.

These messages were spaced out over the course of the night from 9PM until around 2AM at which point I imagine Sam collapsed in a heap of crying, depressed, lunacy and tears because I hadn't said a word in reply for almost 6 hours. Do I feel bad? Not really, but you will find out why as time passes...if you stick around.