Thursday, May 29, 2008

Attack of the crazy

So we all remember Guardy Mc Guarderson? (thanks for the nickname Leah!) Yesterday he starts calling me again. Like five times. Then texted me to let him know when I was available to chat (I was out with D). Clearly this is the time when I say "sorry dude, nothing's going to happen" because I am kind-of-sort-of-together-but-not-officially-with le Rémois. And I was thinking that I might throw in something nice like "we can still be friends" but decided that this was not the route to go when the conversation took a turn for the creepy stalker movie side.

Speaking of, literally as I was typing that he texted me. Creepy stalker.

Anyway. I give the spiel about meeting someone else, sorry, etc. He starts giving me the third degree. How long have you known him, is he French, have you seen him recently. Then he tells me that I made a mistake, that he really was just looking for English convo and a friend. He wants to invite me over for dinner and then "on verra." No no no, there's nothing to voir here, I'm not interested in you. "Non non, on verra." No, we'll see nothing. "Nothing with who?" With you! Then he just goes off into this bizarre diatribe about his plans for his future, lots of "on verra" thrown in, with the same general line of seeing me as friends and then eventually seeing what happens between us. while I put my head down in misery and "uh huh" along to the conversation and try to find a way to get him off my phone. And he eventually gets to "I'll keep calling you and we'll keep up the friendship." No, it bothers me when you call, don't call me. "Okay, so I'll text you." No, I would prefer that you didn't text me. "Okay, well, you can text me and the next time you're in Paris we'll get together." So I just said okay, and he finally hung up. Twelve minutes this creepazoid keeps me on the phone with him. Holy cow did I dodge a bullet here. I wasn't even clear enough or forceful enough about not ever seeing him again. And now he just sent me a text saying I should contact him when I'm in Paris next. Of course I'm just stupid enough to not be able to pick out the crazy ones. And now he knows my name and where I live and that I'm an American. In a town of 30,000 people it's pretty easy to find me. Lovely.

On to better news.... I'm going on a field trip next week! Nice Directeur school is all going to Boulogne sur Mer to see the awesome aquarium there and then hang out at the beach. I love aquariums! I'm excited. He also asked me to accompany the CM2 on their end of the year trip to Parc Asterix. Sign me up!

To feed the gossip mills, here's some basic info about le Rémois:

Age: 36 (I am 23. I call him a vieillard (old man))

Line of work: Owns his own information technology company with his brother (this makes him quite a catch. It is super, super hard to open up your own business in France, so this means he's driven and smart and willing to put up with bureaucratic crap, which if he stays with a foreigner will happen quite a bit!)

Family: divorced. One older brother, married with two girls. I met them all at the soirée. I'm worried about getting along with the belle-soeur, she's un peu froide. Parents (who live in Boulogne sur Mer. Maybe I should visit when I'm up there next week?).

2 comments:

Leah said...

Ok, well, at least you know now about Guardy, but as stalkerish as the French mecs can be, he'd have to be really out of his mind to go to your town and find you. I wouldn't worry too much about that and obviously you need to not tell him when you're going to Paris and pray you don't run into him. Thanks for the D's about Mr. Remois, sounds promising!! :)



PS-I'm glad I could name Stalky McStalkerson for you...NB, I have officialy changed his name.

Andromeda said...

Oohhh this is so exciting! The Remois part, not the McStalkerson part, lol. Is he a lot bigger than the guard? He can protect you when you're in Paris!

Ok, random story about the persistence of mecs: I am sitting on a bench enjoying the sun, and this guy walks by and says Bonjour mademoiselle. I ignore him, but he says "English?" I say no, he asks German, Spanish, Russian . . . all no. He asks if he can sit down, in French, so finally I say "Non merci, je veux etre seule" "Ah! Tu es francaise alors!" Sigh. I keep telling him I just want to be alone, he's like, are you sad, I can help, so finally I yell out to a guy walking by "Eh vous pouvez m'aider monsieur? Il ne degage pas!" That worked pretty well :-p

Lesson learned: always bring a book!