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April 07, 2003 - 12:45 pm

How To Convince People You're Psycho in One Easy Step

There are many people that read this page that also know me in real life. Old friends from high school, an ex-girlfriend or two, friends, associates, roommates, etc. I feel fairly confident that if they were presented with a form that said "Your Pal Bill: Crazy Idiot? Yes or No" that they would slap down a check in the 'No' column with little hesitation.

Let it never be forgotten, however, that one need not be a Crazy Idiot to (very) occasionally behave as if they were.

Case in point from a recent episode in my life:

Over the last two months or so, I've mentioned here and there that I was dating a girl named Abby. All was well, and there was much cutesy goodness: Hand holding in movies, affectionate little notes left on cars and in coat pockets, gifts for no reason, movie nights on the couch and general warm feelings of closeness.

Then, two or three weeks ago, things started to change, as things do. She was getting busier at work, wanted to end things for a while. We talked, and decided we would continue to see each other on a much more casual scale. I was OK with this, having come out of the big long serious thing with Sally, and feeling a little gun shy myself of moving into 'We are now a couple' territory with someone new so quickly.

So, there was a rough attempt to do a more casual thing, replete with missteps and misunderstandings. Then, her sister came into town for a weekend, and after that, communication went dry.

It was after about five or so days that I hadn't heard from her after emailing her that I decided to go over to her place and see what happened. At this point, I knew it was over. I went with the intention to talk, find out what happened. Personally, and I understand that a lot of people disagree, I think that this is face to face stuff, so I swallowed my pride and headed out to get some definitive information and start putting things behind me.

Some of you are old enough to remember that old ad campaign "Phone First." After this incident, that phrase is now more a way of life, a deeply held personal conviction than annoying jingle.

So. And this is where we get to the fun part.

I approach her gate. I ring the bell. A single ring of medium length.

No reply.

I ring the bell again. This time I use the Custom Bill Ring Pattern which I know will be recognized.

Two rings, no big deal. Maybe she's showering. I call her cell.

Voice mail. I say that I just want to talk.

Now, had that been that, had I waited a minute, seen what happened, shrugged my shoulders, wrote it off and went home...that would have been classified as what we consider 'Reasonable Human Behavior.'

As it happened, though, I took a different tack. I rang the bell again.

Probably three times in a few minutes. Maybe four. It is at this point that you may actually become aware of what you are doing. You may actually have the thought "No...Good God, no. Please don't tell me I rang her buzzer three times just now."

You take a step back. Running for your life and whatever dignity you have left suddenly seems like a viable option. But, no! You take out your cell and go, once again, straight into voice mail.

At this point, it really doesn't matter how you attempt to justify your behavior. You have now made it possible for people to think about you and wonder what the hell is wrong with you. You have, however briefly, crossed into Psycho Land.

And you know it.

Just as I prayed that God would implant a tiny nuclear device in my nostrils and end this for all parties involved, my phone rang.

To say that I was soundly chastised for my odd behavior is mild at best. To say that my overall sanity was called into question is polite.

To say that I was called a "fucking inappropriate psycho," is painfully, painfully accurate.

Yes. So.

So, there's talking, and the conversation comes to it's resolution, the resolution it was destined to come to no matter which way I behaved.

And as I drive home, I look back over the events of the evening, and realize that, no matter how normal, nice and cool a guy I may be 99% of the time, for about fifteen minutes or so I turned into a bad 'Pathetic Geek Stories' comic strip.

Except that I'm 27 years old, for God's sake.

I was not Lloyd Dobbler. I had no boombox. Peter Gabriel had not yet written a song for this situation.

So, not only did I have those lovely thoughts winking in my direction while giving me the thumbs up, but those feelings are soon followed by a general sense or remorse and guilt.

It was one of those stupid mistakes that you don't quite know why you made and can't take back or fix easily. Like skipping a paper that's important to your grade, or blowing off something important at work, or saying something to your best friend that you wish you could take back even as it's coming out of your mouth, and, now, in retrospect, you just feel sorry, sorry sorry.

And you look at what happened and what you did, and you know you're only human and you're sure you've made, and will make, even more embarassing mistakes, and you take solace in the fact that you're not the only human that's ever felt this exact same way.

And you tell yourself, truly, much as someone else wrote today, that you are allowed to make the occasional mistake, but you will not make the same mistake twice.

And you'll call first.

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