Sooo... I can’t explain myself to the the person who’s been the victim to my erratic behavior. But something must be said. Seriously.
I work on the Film Festival operational team each year. I freaking love my job. LOVE it. I work with pretty spectacular people. Well, this year being a part of the festival was a great time to be too busy to think about the fire. I was running around like crazy getting work done and it felt so good. The ops team worked in conjunction with one another to get all the background stuff running to make the front of the house look pristine during the festival. Most of the people I worked with on this team were men. I endearingly called them my ops boys. Jimmy thought that was a little weird. However, it does not compare to the weirdness to ensue.
Because the film festival is so dear to me, I had total post festival withdrawal. One of the ops guys, whom I love so dearly, lives out of state and is going home soon. Because I wanted to see him before he left to say goodbye, I thought I'd get a couple of my boys together for dinner. Now, you all know me well enough to know that I am a doer. I get stuff done. And I am over the top. And I talk too much. And I am a little too bubbly for most people to handle. But you also know that I am sincere and love to make people happy. Well, imagine that you don't know me that well. Imagine that you are not immune to my shenanigans. Imagine that you only see me about 7 days out of 365 and those 7 days I am mostly professional. Now, my dear ones, imagine that you are a single man that mentioned that to me. And that I might get the idea to set up said man.
Trouble, folks.
This poor defenseless man didn't know what hit him. In fact I think he might have thought that I was the one HITTING on him. Gah!
So our conversation went something like this (now I paraphrase because the real words are just too embarrassing. Guys, I made a fool)
Me: So what kind of girl are you into?
Poor Defenseless Ops Boy: I'm into crazy- the good kind of crazy- chicks
M: Well, I'm already taken, hahaha! (I am an idiot)
PDOB: uhhhh... (nervous laughter)
M: I don't mean that- I was just kidding, I can find crazy.
and the conversation continued okay, until I chose to deliver on my promise.
The following day I proceeded to text this PDOB and pretty much scared the living daylights out of him. Why, you ask? Because I may have mentioned the words: stalker, creeper, intense etc., in reference to my awesome self. And then offered to bring him lunch (Because I was swinging by another friend's house and Jimmy's work to drop off lunch to them as well. But he didn't know that.)
And rather than cease and desist I kept texting....
because, you know, he needed to understand that I was just trying to help.
(insert face palm here)
Then, I was really good and stopped myself from continuing to dig my hole and actually consulted the level headed member of my marriage.
That's when Jimmy said, "Now don't freak out, but you kind of sound like the main character from that show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. You should probably apologize..."
So, the following day I decided to follow the advice of my level headed husband. But, I think I followed it too closely.
How my text read:
My husband said I sound like the crazy one from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and I should apologize to you... (then listed some great qualities of a dear friend of mine I'd like to set him up with. I KNOW GUYS. I need to stop the madness)
I sent the text. I.sent.the.text. !!!!!
I swear, the girl was PERFECT for him. I felt like I had a duty to true love.
But, oh my goodness, I am writing this and cringing.
So, I let the text marinate.
And then deleted it.
So, what's worse? Sending that awful text or sending it and then deleting it?
Jimmy came home to me sheepishly cuddled in bed and listening to T-Swift. Because that is honestly the only way I could deal. I showed Jimmy every single text I wrote (and I did not censor it like I did for this here post. My husband is a saint.) He first look horrified and then we just laughed hysterically. We decided I'm not allowed to text boys anymore.
You guys, I am not a creepy stalker. But that poor boy did not know what hit him. Rapid fire texts from a crazy lady may change his mind about what kind of girl he's looking for...
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