I put this story off for a long time since it was a few months in the making. It’s a little long winded, but I’ll try to make it easy to read.
Last September, for all you non-baseball fans, was a terrible time in my life. Even though I had just moved to Boston and saw several games live (and met some players, managers, and FINALLY saw my favorite pitcher pitch in real life), the Red Sox managed to pull off the worst collapse EVER. So bad that their entire chances of making the playoffs (when they were projected to win the World Series at one point) rode on the Yankees beating the Rays in the last game.
And no one would go to the bar with me to watch it.
So I sat at this bar, by myself, next to this Turkish girl. She asked me about baseball and had me explain it to her. We had a nice friendship going when these two idiots walked in and tried to hit on us. I completely blew them off (I’m watching a baseball game- don’t fucking talk to me right now) and she followed my lead. However, she was basically DTF that night and I could tell she was upset that I had no interest in going home with these two guys.
Then their friend walked in and started talking to me. I had a few drinks at that point and was already fairly miserable about the way the games were going that night, so I was ridiculously (and stupidly) vulnerable. Seriously- I’m the only girl that gets so emotional about a baseball game. So turns out that this guy was from Maine, as am I, so we hit it off. His friends ended up leaving and he’s like “Peace out, I’m staying here with her”.
We traded numbers and decided to hang out again soon, even though we were still sitting together at the bar. He started getting semi-handsy, but not too grabby. Basically, just his hand on my back and my shoulders. I usually hate that stuff, but I allowed this to go on for a bit.
This is where the sitcom part of my life starts:
My new Turkish BFF however was extremely jealous that there was no man for her. Awkwardly enough, the guy has a Turkish friend. She took his phone and started texting him in Turkish. The guy (We’ll call him Clinger from now on) and I just sat there and idly chatted while watching the end of the horrendous baseball game.
Turns out the Turkish friend is going to come meet up with us. Great! In my head, all I needed to do was finish the game, say goodbye to Clinger, and head home. It was a Wednesday night and already really late. However, this did not happen.
The Red Sox lost and so did the Yankees which led to a million phone calls (it was around 1am. Even my dad called) from everyone, making sure that I didn’t jump off the Tobin Bridge. While all this is happening, the Turkish friend shows up. Turns out, he’s not a FRIEND. He’s the delivery driver for this BBQ place that Clinger orders from all the time. He’s also a good 10 years older than Clinger told us (I mean, he’s like 50…). He pulls up and is like “Are you guys ready?” I had NO idea what was happening, since I was busy reassuring everyone that I knew that I wasn’t going to commit suicide. However, my new friend wouldn’t get in the car with him alone (she’s not stupid). Clinger offered to get in the car and go with her. I just stood there, drunk, yelling “Wait, he’s WORKING right now? Are we going to make deliveries right now? I’m so going.” and jumped into the back seat.
The Turks were in front while Clinger and I were in the back. We made out a little bit, since we had nothing else to do while we listened to them bicker in Turkish. He’d get out of the car to make a delivery and she’d turn around to yell at Clinger for lying to her. The guy was married, had kids, etc….It was just awful. We ended up driving around Boston for a bit and then we all got dropped off at home.
Clinger texted me a few times throughout the week and I told him I wouldn’t be free until the weekend. He wasn’t happy with that since he worked at a restaurant and worked on weekends. Well, sorry, I had a busy week! This led to a series of crazy texts on Friday night:
Seriously, I can’t make this stuff up.
We never did hang out again, but I ran into him SO many times. Like on Halloween. I was with this guy and while waiting for him, Clinger showed up and started talking to me. And then I made friends with this bartender at my favorite pizza place and HE knew him and was worried for me. I guess Clinger found out that he and I were friends and was asking about me. Then I ran into him again during Halloween weekend, where my guy friend told him that I was “working” for the evening and could be fired for talking to another guy.
Yea, so now Clinger thinks I’m an escort. Or a prostitute. Whatever.
Anyway, THAT night, he came over and handed me a Kit-Kat bar. He looked at me and said “Here. Why don’t you ‘take a break’ and come talk to me?” I panicked. He ended up camping out right in front of the exit. Luckily, I knew my way around, so I found a way out without having to pass him.
I saw him again after New Years and luckily he stayed away from him. He texted me from across the bar, which was scary enough. My bartender friend sees him every now and again and keeps me posted on his activities. Thankfully I haven’t had to deal with him much anymore.