Stage Five Clinger

I spent a few days in Vegas this past weekend, and this is just one of the stories that made it out.  What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas…unless it’s blog-worthy.

Though I came home with a menagerie of stories and misadventures from the weekend, the most interesting so far has been with the Stage Five Clinger.  I met him playing craps and it seemed his luck extended past the tables because he ended up with my number.  We texted a bit throughout the afternoon and evening but weren’t able to cross paths again that day.  The next morning at 6am, he texted to see if I was still awake, as he was getting ready to head out and catch his plane.  It’s Vegas…so of course I was still up and ready for a mid-morning date.  We met up for coffee  (his was Starbucks, while mine was Irish,) and chatted for over an hour.  He asked if he could whisk me away for a weekend, and I HAD to say ‘yes.’  (Like I’m going to say ‘no’ to someone offering a weekend getaway…that’s like saying, “No no, I DON’T want stories for my blog…”)

We parted ways and that’s when the mass texting started.  At first, it was innocent enough:

“It was great to meet you, have a great day.” (That’s a perfect follow up text – much appreciated.)

“You are incredible.” (I’ll take it.  I mean, no one is arguing with him here.)

“I hope to see you again.” (Ok, you’re confirming this weekend getaway business, I get it.)

Then, the unnecessary status updates and pointless texting started:

“Boarding my plane, I won’t be able to talk for awhile.” (Um…yea, I know, you DID say you were headed for the airport.)

“Just landed.  Are you home yet?” (No…but why does it matter?)

“Miss me yet?…LOL.” (Umm…are you being serious or ironic?  Either way, superfluous.)

“Good morning sunshine!” (Yes, I’m awake…does this warrant a response?  I need to get ready for work.)

Though this was a little more than slightly annoying, I decided to deal with it because I knew the weekend trip would make up for the over-texting.  Plus, that could likely be easily fixed in one conversation.

That night, during what I can only describe as a textaholic overdose, he asked me what happens if we “get serious.”  (Obviously, he does not know me well.)  I told him to slow his roll; if we wanted to pursue something (which, let’s be honest, is highly unlikely, not only due to my conflicting schedule with his Textaholics Anonymous meetings, but because I can barely commit to plans for a Friday evening, much less a cross-country relationship,) we could figure out the how’s and why’s later. Otherwise, I just wanted a fun weekend in Napa.

Then came the incessant texting…I was sitting at work the next day, and a text came through.  I didn’t check my cell because I was on the phone with a client.  Then I heard the alert again.  …Again, I ignored it.  A minute later: another alert.  Then another, and another.  Finally, I got off the phone with my client and checked my messages to see who had the emergency.  This is what I saw:

“Hi there!”

“Hello?”

“???”

“Crickets”

“…..?”

“U there?”

My response?  “Don’t be clingy. It’s unattractive.”

Later that night, after returning home from the gym, I saw two messages.  “I miss you” and five minutes later, “Hello???”

My (final) response: “You’re creeping me out.”

The idea of someone flying me out to Napa Valley for a whirlwind romance IS tempting and I’d loved to have gone.  Plus, the blog fodder from that weekend would have been priceless; I’m sure.  However, when dealing with a Stage Five Clinger, it’s best to cut your losses as soon as you’re able.  Otherwise, Stage Five Clinger turns into Number One Stalker.

To my Stage Five Clinger, because I know you read the blog:

A piece of honest advice – and please don’t take offense – you’ve got a lot to offer; you shouldn’t give it out so easily.  Playing hard to get is a necessary evil.  Flattery will get you everywhere, but too much of it will get you a restraining order.  The line between not enough and too much isn’t exactly a fine one.  There’s plenty of room for variance; in the future, just reduce your standard deviation.

Remember: If you’d like to submit a question or funny story for the Mid-Week Meltdown, send an email to myvaginamonoblogs@gmail.com, with your name, age, gender, and a little something about yourself.  I try to answer all questions in a timely manner.