So I go to work the next day...and she's already been calling. I ask a co-worker to screen my calls. He asks how he'll know it's her.
"Easy," I say. "She'll sound like she's chewing on a dick."
He laughed. "How does someone sound like they're chewing on a dick?"
Very seriously, with no trace of humor in my voice, I look him dead in the eyes. "Just wait," I say.
Half an hour later he comes back to me, his eyes wide open. "Dude, she just called you," he said. "And...you were right. She sounds like she's chewing on a dick."
So we spend the rest of the day playing Screen Nick's Calls. She calls a grand total of ten times, getting progressively angrier each time. Finally everyone is annoyed, and I decide to take one of her calls. She's mad.
"Nick," she starts out, "you didn't return my calls last night, and I'm really upset. I thought we..."
I cut her off. "Please shut your fucking mouth, all right?"
She's stunned. She's a "good Christian girl," and even though she was prepared to have dirty monkey sex with a guy she didn't even know very well, bad, naughty language upsets her. I have the edge very briefly. I take it.
"All right. You've called me something like thirty-five times in the past two days, and that's some really scary shit. I want you to stop calling me. Pretend that I'm dead."
"Nick, I really am attracted to you," she says, defensive. "I thought we had a connection."
"You imagined that," I say. "You're scaring my co-workers, you're pissing off my mom, and you're scaring and annoying me. I don't like you. I don't want to fuck you. I don't want to kiss you. You're weird, you're insane, and you're obsessed with me."
"No, I'm not obsessed with you, I..."
"Shut the hell up. You're getting ready to stalk me."
"I'm not stalking you..."
"Please, shut the absolute fuck up. I've been stalked before, and it's nasty, and I don't really feel like going through it again. You're nuts, and you're getting ready to go off the deep end with me. I don't want to touch you, I don't want to fuck you, and I don't even want to be your friend. I want you to stop calling me. I mean it."
"But Nick, I want to be..."
"No, you don't. Look, I'll put it this way - if you call me one more time, I'm calling the cops and getting a restraining order taken out on you. I'm not fucking around here. I am very, very serious. Now leave me the fuck alone."
I hung up the phone.
Wisely, she stopped calling me.
She sent me a couple of e-mails a month or two later, but I deleted them without even bothering to look at them. I don't know what's happened to her since then, and I don't give a shit. It's been a little over a year and I still don't care. But let this be a lesson to you all - do not, under any circumstances, use Internet personal ads.
That's it for this week's replacement Goldmine. I hope you enjoyed my very painful personal tale of pain and agony. Next week I'll put up something with bunnies. See you then!
Did Louis C.K. jerk off in front of two female comics? And why are these ladies squandering an opportunity to learn from a comedy legend?
Elliot said my breakup must have been due to the sweater curse, an unexplained phenomenon where anyone who gives their significant other a hand-knit sweater gets dumped. The only way to break the curse, Elliot said, was to destroy the sweater.
The Comedy Goldmine examines the funniest and most creative threads from the Something Awful Forums. Although the Comedy Goldmine has changed authors many times over the years, its focus on the Something Awful Forums is still the same. Includes hilarious Photoshops, amusing work stories, parodies, and other types of oddball humor.