just in time for thanksgiving: Jive Turkeys, vrsn.2"stalkers"

the last time i had walked into a barbershop for a "trim", i walked out looking like the SoSoDef logo. so nearly a year later i finally had to find the courage to go into another barbershop.
i walked around the corner of my downtown loft to the nearest red and white pole i could find. C__ was standing outside his shop in his smock, talking to homies. when he saw me rounding the corner, he reacted as most men do, he was spellbound. "how much for a trim?"
he was really sweet and i thought he was really cute. 3 hours later when i left his chair (perfect fro in tow), i left my number behind.
when we hung out, i could tell he wasn't really my type; he wasn't brainy, artsy, weird or a rocker. but, he worked around the corner and since i was unemployed he came over a lot with beer and weed. we had our laughs and went out sporadically. in school he was a popular jock, so his residual cockiness made him attractive to me. he was attainable and i was single, so i, easily, made him my cuttybuddy. when i got stood up or i dumped the guys i was really interested in, i called him up to go to IHOP or see a movie. he was good for late nite hookups.
before i knew it, we were buddies, you know, like real friends. a year had passed, i had moved, things changed; he started to stand me up.

eh!

"what da hell is wrong with you?! you're getting non-obligatory pussy, not to mention, we're supposed to be homies?" he apologized and promised he'd do better. i told him the next time he stood me up, i'd never speak to him again. ever.

breaking point was yet another moving day. he was the only person with enuf car space to help and i was already overstaying my lease. he agreed but
he never showed up. when i called him, he yelled at me claiming that i'd "pressured him into it". that was it. i never called him again.

initially, he was probably angry or embarassed cause it took him 8 months. then every other day his number would pop up. i answered the first one to see how his life was, blah blah blah cause i don't hold grudges. but when he kept calling i'm like "look homie, it ain't gonna be like before. your pussy pass has expired."

a year later, he's still calling claiming he's:::so sorry.he was really into me from the start but he was scared of his feelings.and i was so cool.he never met a girl like me before.and he just didn't know how to act.and can i please give him another chance:::
i feel for'im. but...fuck that, he's still a stalker.

VoiceMail(11.10.05): "Neenah, this is C__. (sigh) Neenah, I want you to answer your phone when I call you. I already know your situation, you told me already but...Neenah.(sigh) Neenah! This me, this is C__. Damn that motherfucker man! [referring to my boyfriend] You can be happy with me. I think...(sigh) I think you know that, but you don't wanna be happy with me. You don't want peace. (sigh) That's crazy, that's insane. Neenah! Remember C__. And I love you."

just in time for thanksgiving: Jive Turkeys, vrsn.1"stalkers"

(don't let this happen to you. avoid the signs in bold type)

stalkers. i think i figured them out. maybe you were standing in line at your local clubWalGreens. small talk ensues, you smile, respond, make direct eye contact! you're human- female- sweet- attractive- interesting. now every time you go to pick up a pack of tampons, this dude just happens to be there buying a Snickers.
or maybe you thought he was just a normal, intriguing guy so, yeah, you took his number, mayB gave him yours. cool casual convo is a skill afterall. and there's no such thing as too many friends, right?
suddenly, he's calling...ALL THE TIME. and when you don't answer or return their calls, you're hearing slasher-like tones in your phone.
(i.e.)he was a friend of a friend. i took that for a good reference. we had lunch, once. the first sign was deciding where to go. i didn't have a taste for anything in particular so i wanted him to choose. homie turned into vanessa bell calloway a la "coming to america"::
me: "so what kinda food do you like?"
him: "whatever kind of food you like."
me: "sooo...how about jamaican...or maybe chinese, whaddaya think?"
(pause)(i look over and meet his twinkling eyes, i flinch)
him: "i'll eat anything. i'm not really even hungry, but if you wanna eat..."
over jamaican (chosen b/c it was closest to an escape route i knew fairly well) he complimented me too much, too often. after lunch, he made me a paper maiche swan. (yikes!) i dipped soon after. weeks past and i hadn't returned any of his calls. thanksgiving was rolling up. here's the last message he left on my voicemail::
"Hey Neenah, uh, haven't heard from you in a while. I, uh, kinda miss talking to you. (pause) So...call me back or I'm gonna come over there and stuff a turkey down your throat, heehee."
Needless to say...