January 6, 2002
Jaime
OK, so I'm driving to Fry's on 680 when I see a car speed up behind me. I go to merge over so the car can pass—I'm a very courteous driver—but I didn't have a chance because the car moved over and drove up beside me. I looked over quickly to see a man who appeared to be jumping around in his seat. He was waving at me and then began honking his horn. Oh. My. God. I know this guy! And OMG I am so sorry for him.
He's this guy I met at Aquatic Park in Berkeley (before I got kicked out forever). His name...well, it might be rude for me to release his name...but he doesn't believe in computers (sic) and probably won't see this. OK, so his name is Jaime, he's 40, lives with his parents in Antioch, doesn't have sex (or at least any sort of intercourse that involves any bodily orifice, even with protection), only kisses—and with no tongue—and dances Flamenco at his church. He found me at the park and was drooling over my cool and limpid green eyes. He wanted to cuddle with and kiss me. I'm sorry, but it was just a little odd, so I had to turn him down. I think he even made reference to his mother making us breakfast. ICK!!
¡¡ICK!!
So, he accosted me whenever he saw me at the park. And I guess the police's "request" that I not return (to put it lightly) saved me from Jaime until today. So, I'm driving 75 m.p.h. down 680, and he wants me, motions for me to pull over on the side of the road. Um, no thanks, maybe next time.
Not one to give up easily, he gets behind me and follows me to Fry's. How fucking obnoxious. I get out of my car in the parking lot and see him running over to me from his car.
"Hi! Wow! It's been a long time since I've seen you! What are you up to? You look great!"
"Uh, Jaime, why did you follow me here?"
"I thought we could sit and chat. Wow, how lucky this is."
Jaime reminds me of Andy Dick's character, Matthew, on the now-defunct but ever hilarious News Radio. He's quirky and geeky, and I'm starting to feel sorry for him. But fuck it. I'm a bitch. No sorrow. No pity. And no, Jaime, I don't want to try your mother's huevos rancheros, thanks anyway.
I made my excuses and went towards the store. He shook my hand and said to call him. When I returned to my car, I saw a homemade business card with his phone number on it. "Call me! Please!" it said. Oh dear, I replied.
That's all.
