The Drought and the Flood: A 2/3 Goldilocks Tale

My life.
I don’t even…

I moved into my current place the Thursday of the last week of June. That Friday night, I went out with my housemate Whitney and met up with her friends. At the first place we went to, some upstairs club/bar on Oxford St., I saw this guy and

His name was Josh, and, in the interest of making a long story short, we got “engaged,” exchanged numbers (in that order), shared some french fries and had a late night chat on the phone.

Then he went out of town 2 days later for what ended up being 3 weeks, I think. We kept talking and it was cute at moments and cool…and then he disappeared–at which point, the logical part of my brain was like “$#%& this noise!” but the part of me that pays attention to weird coincidences, aka the part of me that brought me to Australia in the first place said, “Well, just hold on a second…” because there were a few in this case. So I gave him the benefit of the doubt when he gave me his small laundry list of plausible reasons that we hadn’t spoken and said that he’d call me when he got back into town.

Another almost 2 weeks went by when I ran into him on a night out.

Oh.

We ended up hanging out a bit that night because my hormones made me forget how put off I should have been.

A week later, he ran into Whitney at a party and asked her what my name was again.

This porridge is too cold. 

* * *

The bus driver is a lunatic.

I was really flattered that the bus driver took the initiative to find me, especially in contrast to the above situation, though I did recognize that it was borderline creepy as well. As long as things stayed cool though, I was happy to look at it as the beginning of a rom-com and not a horror film.

We met Friday morning and that night, about 10:30p, he sent me a text:

“Hav to tell u it was a delight meeting a sexy girl like u today”

I knew I felt some kind of way about it, so I just left it unanswered.

Last night, he texted me while I was out with friends:

“I’ll SMS u around 930am to c what ur up to. What do you want to do???? I hav a few ideas…LOL”

To which, my response was:

“Hey! I’m happy to get coffee, but I will tell you now, if you’re just looking to hook up, that’s not my style.”

He called and left a voicemail.
I texted back that I was out and it was loud and for him to text me.

He called again.
He left another voicemail.

He called again.
He left another voicemail.

He called again.
He left another voicemail.

At which point, I put my phone away, because, dude, seriously??

About an hour later, I pulled my phone out again. Two more calls. Another voicemail.

I texted him. “Please stop.”

Five minutes later, he called again.


(My actual reaction.)

Whitney answered and said I wasn’t available. “That’s fine,” he said, “I’ll call her back in 10 minutes.”

He called again.

I answered. “YOU HAVE TO STOP CALLING ME. YOU HAVE TO STOP.”

There hasn’t been anything since then, but he knows where I work, which freaks me out. Though, thankfully, it’s about 30 secs away from a police station.

Ugh. All I want to do is

This porridge is too hot. 

 

Can I find one that’s just right?

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About J.

A former twentysomething with a head full of curls and heart full of questions wondering: when we get to nirvana, will there be food?
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