I'm Not a Damn Home Depot. For Freak Sakes....

Greetings and salutations peoples. Oh yeah, I've got a doozy for you.

ANDOHMYGODFORFUCKSAKESWHEREDOTHESEMENCOMEFROMANDDOIHAVEASIGNSAYINGWEIRDOSCOMEFINDME??

Whew. Thanks. I feel better now.

Moving on

The Tale of Creeping Charlie

I dunno people, maybe I need to start meditating or climb a mountain without my shoes off, strip off my clothes and start chanting in tongues in front of a bonfire. Cuz this shit is not only getting old, but really weird.

So, Creeping Charlie. I met him this week on a NEW site I joined for lulz called eVow (trust me, don't go to this site. I've already deleted my account, because C-R-A-Y  C-R-A-Y). And his after his initial "Hi, I'm Creeper Charlie" introduction, his first message
HIS VERY FIRST MESSAGE was
"Your very pretty" (misspelled and all. Yeah. It bugged me. I know.)
Okay. That's nice and all. I'm a normal girl. Girls (and guys too) like getting compliments, we're human. So I responded with the usual
"Thank you, that's kind of you" reply. His response back?
"Do you like my pictures?"

Danger Will Robinson! Danger Will Robinson!

"Sure. You're an attractive guy" And he is. And so on and so on.
In addition to the Nutella spread of craziness, the eVow interface just blows donkey chode, so we eventually exchanged numbers and started texting. And this is where the fun - if your idea of fun is a pap smear with salad tongs, really started.

You know what? Fuck it. Here are some of the highlights in all their gory weirdness.

FOR FUCK SAKES. Oh, and don't you worry, this went on
And on
AND ON
I could have posted days of this crap, but I try to be a kind soul and I didn't want your heads to explode.
Because once again, there were so many flags popping up that Charlie here could work for the highway department.

But here's the thing:
Throughout our conversations, Charlie kept going on and on about how "HOT" I was. Okay. Sure, like I said up top, the first time I was flattered, but he kept saying it and asking me for more and more pictures. Dude. I'm not some fucking narcissist, I don't have 500 damn selfies on my phone. I'm just a normal girl and I only have enough pictures for my profiles. But he must have asked me five times for more pictures of myself. Creepy. It became uncomfortable and apparent to me that Charlie was sticking around based SOLELY on the way I looked.

SO THAT WAS NEW AND EXCITING
Like that pap smear/salad tong thing. Fun times.

Charlie barely asked me anything about ME, my background,my hobbies, likes, dislikes, etc. But he was quick to list off HIS accomplishments, accolades in the short phone conversation we had. Like he has some dating resume he was reading off. 
Dude.

"Low self esteem, you have a call on Line 1"

Then there was the "I like you." "I already like you"

Um.

How can you like someone you've never met? Sure, you can like the interaction, like what they're projecting over text or online, but you don't KNOW them. So, it's just a fantasy.
And talk like that reeks of some intimacy issues. Like the classic stereotypical dude who's 45 and living in his mother's basement. Or George Clooney.

Nu-uh. Fantasy is for cos-players at ComicCon, not my world.
But wait, there's more! Charlie must have asked me half a dozen times "are you mad at me?"

Again, I can't be mad at someone I'VE NEVER MET. I couldn't roll my eyes back into my head far enough. I'll cop to the fact that by the end, I was very annoyed, but ya know, I don't actually get "mad" in my life very often. True fact. Someone has to be a super doosh of nuclear proportions to get me really pissed.

Mad just isn't my jam yo. I mean, I can get into some strawberry, or apricot when I'm digging some toast

But I digress

But still, asking if I'm mad at him hints that Charlie thought we had a level of connection that required at the very least a basic level face-to-face interaction. WHICH WE NEVER HAD. Charlie just didn't seem to get that, even when I tried to gently tell him to get the fuck out. 

I'm not a damn Home Depot. I don't need a project man to fix the broken parts, or prop up his ego, self esteem, manhood (insert issue here). Look. At some point in our lives we ALL come with a certain amount of baggage, it's just a part of life, but for the love of Cthulhu ladies and gents, fix your shit before you decide to seek out a partner.

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt then returned it for half price; which actually was a pretty good deal regarding how long I'd had it. Not bad if you consider...

Moving on

You can't get connected over a damn phone. Or Text. Or email. Or a website. Or one date.
Seriously.
The delusional lunatic.

Then Charlie wouldn't (and still a day and a half later) go away. Oh no. No,no!
HA! You WISH.
Charlie wanted us to be friends. Cuz I'm "so nice"

Then this...

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.
And I just saw Bigfoot riding a Unicorn while chasing a UFO out my front door.

Nope. I guaran-ass-tee you that Charlie wanted to be "friends" with me so that he could convince me to go on a date with him. But here's the thing, it wasn't a sincere offer of friendship, and you know intuition is a thing, it was just Charlie wanting to use his penis as a dowsing rod for finding my vagina.

Not even.

I knew I'd made a mistake accepting the date so early on, and I knew that I didn't want to go, because Charlie gave me the heebs so much. But the glorious thing is that the OLD Doozy would have still gone on the date because I felt obligated, I'd given my word, I didn't want to seem like a bitch; all those old tropes that women fall into to.

But this Doozy, ME, now, a fully fledged adult..(okay, back up... a mostly fledged adult, I still have a ways to go in some areas) realized I didn't owe Charlie or any other rando I'd been talking to on the internet
A
Single
Fucking
Thing

They don't know me and I don't know them. So what if I didn't go on a date with Charlie. So what if he thought I was a bitch. In the scheme of my life, who cares? Bottom line; this guy gave me the creeps, so why would I willingly put myself in a position to go on a date with him? A few years ago, I wouldn't have thought this way and I would have gone on the mother of doozy dates.

But poor Creeping Charlie had a bit of a hard time accepting this and I ended up having to call in my bitch brigade after all. Not my normal M.O...
Sigh.

"The Home Depot: You can do it; We can help"

As always, thanks for reading! Oh, and I fixed the comments (cuz-derp) so now ANYONE can comment, even anonymously, so feel free to talk, link and share my blog if you like it.
-Doozy