Currently Chasing: Cory Allen (Who the hell are you?)

So, my friend Diary of Why posted a blog about deleting people from your phone. And just like - as you all know - I’m a friend Hoarder on facebook…I am an even worse Hoarder of contact information.

 I cannot seem to hit the delete on even one single person in my phone. It just feels so … permanent. I mean, even on facebook (unless you’re blocked) you can just go back in and try to refriend, or send a little message like “oops, this new facebook has me all jacked up and it actually deleted you from my friends list. THE NERVE. I’m sending you another friend request.” Or some other lie like that. Because we all know the new phone excuse and the I don’t know what happened excuse you try to give when you have intentionally cut someone out of your life is all a bunch of bullshit.

So after reading her blog I began looking through my phone. There are a couple names in there that I do not recognize at all.

Cory Allen, who are you?

Matt Jhonno? That is someone from Afghanistan that I know I will never speak to again. Partly because the number in my phone is an Afghanistan number. I could probably hit delete on that. Or not.

I have a random Jordon in here? A 980 number?

Hello Kyle. Who the hell are you?

Oh look, Heather R. – The chick I got cheated on with. I should def. delete that number. Or should I?

Thomas Turner – How ya doing stranger and oh yeah...who the fuck are you?

I have a number i titled Work Related. What the hell does that even mean?

Jacob York? Are you related to Charlotte?

I have a number for some girl I met in the airport. She is a personal trainer. I remember this because her number is saved under Faith Workout.

I have all kinds of crap written by your name so I can remember who you are.

Loser Mike. Self Explanatory.

Teresa G. Student. Obviously a former student.

Mary J. that dude who smokes the Weed.

JB. Meaning Jelly Bean. My nickname for a dude at work.

Tom House. The dude named Tom who sold me my house.

Hair. Kathy O. The great lady who does my … HAIR. Of course. What else would I label her as?

Doc Eyes. No name…just the place where I go to get my glasses.

JT Dan. Mostly because the dude looks like Justin Timberlake but his name is Dan.

Creepy Wilk. Because I thought I saw someone who looked like him on one of those pedophile shows.

Carries Boyfriend. I mean, do I really need to know his name if he already has a girlfriend?

Aad. I have no idea.

And there is that Cory Allen again? Damn you. In my phone twice*! (I think I can definitly - at the very least - delete one of these Cory Allen's out of my phone.

Maybe I’ll send a random text message to some of these mystery numbers….I’ll just drop a simple, How have you been on a few of them. If they write back asking why they haven’t heard from me in forever, I’ll assume it is someone who still has me programmed into their phone…so I will bullshit through a text conversation and try to find a clue as to who it is. Once I find out, I will put that hint in my phone so I remember in the future. If they write back asking me who I am…then I’ll know it is safe to let that one go.

Or first make sure the number is backed up somewhere….and then – for sure – let that one go.

*Hmmm, I wonder if that is the Coastie I hung out with a couple of times when I first moved to Maryland who freaked out and broke everything off when he saw the car seat in my PT Cruiser? Better keep both those numbers - just in case.

Currently Chasing: Coincidence

So way back in 2005 I met a guy. I mean, I’m always meeting guys, but this was an exceptionally crazy circumstance. More than a year ago I was reminded of the story and I blogged about it here. I’ll wait for you to get all caught up.

So Saturday my daughter has a birthday party. I tell her she can invite three girls. She picks two girls I know well and one girl that I’m not super familiar with. I call her mother and make sure that everything is ok with her coming to the party and then spending the night. Her mother says that it is fine. She mentions that it is her ex husbands weekend with the kids and asks if I can just drop her off at her father’s house the day after the party. No problem. So she sends me his name, address and phone number.

I stare at the name. It’s a fairly common name, not unlike Chris (although it’s not Chris) so I don’t think too much about it. But the address is in the same city as the “Chris” that I used to know way back then so just to be sure I write to a mutual friend.

Me: Hey, so I’m looking at this girl’s dad’s information and I have to ask. This isn’t the same guy from 2005 is it? You know…the air guitar guy? The guy who was growing weed in his house?

Mutual friend: Ha! OMG No. Not at all. I’ve met him, it’s not the same person.

Me: Ok. You are sure right?

Mutual friend: Yeah. I remember that dude, and trust me; it’s not the same person.

I felt some relief come over my body. Not like it would be absolutely horrible to see this guy again..it’s just that we left off on strange terms. Like, him telling me he was falling and love, and me wondering why he couldn’t be bothered to clean out his toilet.

So the day comes and I’m at the mutual friend’s house waiting for all the girls to arrive so I can load them up and take them to the mall. Then I hear someone shout “so and so’s dad is here.”

My friend assures me once again that it is not the same person. So outside I go to meet him and tell him I promise to return his daughter in one piece. As soon as I see him, I know.

It’s him.

I walk up to him and he looks at me like he is meeting me for the first time.

Him: Hey, hi, it’s nice to meet you.

Me: (staring) um, yes, it is very nice to meet you also. (I say this very, very slow while continuing to stare.)

Him: well, ok, it is very nice of you to have invited my daughter. She is very excited about it.

Me: (staring) no problem. I’m sure all the girls are going to have a great time. (Again, very slow. And I’m sure he thinks I’M HIGH)

Him: do you need me to text you my address so you can drop her off tomorrow?

Me: nope. I have your address. Your ex wife texted it to me. (and I may just remember the way in general seeing as though I’VE BEEN THERE BEFORE.)

Him: ok, well thanks again … (he pauses like he is reaching for my name…so I just give it to him again)

Then he gets in his car and leaves and I turn around with wide eyes while mouthing the words to my friend. (IT IS FUCKING HIM!)

She says something about it being a long time, and he’s cut his hair and gained a little weight since then…but holy shit, we are both kind of in disbelief about the whole thing.

And my name is not that common. I mean, my name may as well be television station. You wouldn’t forget someone named television station. Especially not someone you were supposedly falling for! Then again…he was simultaneously dating Mary Jane and we all know how that bitch fucks with your shit.

I should have just let it go, pretended we had never met before and called it a day…however, I hate being forgettable. So of course I texted him with a teeny tiny hint indicating that it is possible we had met some time in the past.

My text: “Hey, this is Terrina. We used to date.

He writes back about how I looked familiar and he was wondering why I was talking so slow and looking RIGHT THROUGH HIM. (yeah, he put it in all caps just like that.) He mentioned how embarrassed he felt about the whole situation but then added that he was pretty baked back then.

Three other blasts from the past made their way to my phone, email, facebook last week. It’s like the universe can smell relationship all over me and is sending old boyfriends to test my commitment. What the universe forgets is that even my current boyfriend is an old boyfriend so I’m already over quota on that sort of thing. I’ve got enough past in my present. Time to keep looking forward.