Part II - Deux Degrees of Separation

When we left off with Part I of Deux  Degrees of Separation, Phil had just texted me photos of himself looking crazy as ever and proud of it too. Let me tell you, his weird phone call followed by the unbelievably unsexy photos left me feeling a mix of emotions and plagued with some questions.

1. Disbelief

- This guy can not be serious. Did he really think I would find these pics attractive? Out of all the photos in the world that he probably could have sent he chose these?

2. Fear

- How did he get my number because I sure as hell didn’t give it to him. Did he get it from Facebook? (Checked Facebook and my number is not listed on there). Is it written on a bathroom stall of club in downtown Chicago? (Unlikely since I don’t frequent those places or hang out with people that do).

3. Anger

- Who the FUCK gave this guy my number?!

4. Relief

- At least I didn’t get any dick photos. Those are the worse.

For about a week straight Phil would call and text me like mad.  It was surely my fault for even entertaining him on that first phone call to begin with. I knew not to answer his number and I could block his text messages (avoiding possible dick texts) but then he started to call from other people’s numbers. As I mentioned in Part I, I always answer a call, even from numbers I don’t know because it could be a gig. Imagine my surprise/disgust/annoyance when it would be Phil. Eventually I took the chance that if it was a gig that really wanted me, they would leave a message or send an email. Otherwise they wouldn’t’ get a return call.

I guess I was dealing with a master of phone tag because Phil graduated from random phone numbers to the dreaded UNKNOWN phone number. If you didn’t know before, just know from my experience that whoever it is on the other end of an unknown phone call, it’s probably someone you don’t want to talk to.  Most likely it’s a bill collector, the IRS or a company offering you a free cruise if you just sit and listen to their hour-long timeshare presentation. However there is the small chance that it could be an emergency or even the Publisher’s Clearing House calling to tell you that you’ve won a hefty sum of money. I mean they don’t just make those commercials up. They are real! So you HAVE to pick up the phone just in case, and oh shit. It’s Phil again.

I consider myself a nice person and I didn’t want to lead this guy on but some people just don’t get it even after you’ve avoided talking to them for weeks. Lil suggested that I tell him I was seeing someone (which is the truth) and that it would be disrespectful for me to continue talking to him. Phil took this bit of information surprisingly well. He told me, “You’re a 4 star lady, of course you have a man. Why wouldn’t you? I get it but we could still harmlessly meet up for coffee.” 

No. Thanks.

I don’t know what it is, but if you tell a guy you have a boyfriend, it only makes them want you more. 

I’m not being conceited, it's a proven a law of the universe. Pretty girls know what I’m talking about.

Eventually the phone calls did cease and I was a better person for it too.  I could answer my phone without fear of having to chat with the phone stalker Phil had become over the previous weeks.

Well imagine my surprise when I get up one morning and see a Google Chat message from Lil saying to CALL HER IMMEDIATELY. The previous night I had asked her to go with me to a fashion show I was invited to by a mutual friend (proof right there that I’m a warehouse event party kind a girl, not a downtown Chicago club scene type of girl). She couldn’t go because she had a date. Lil has never been one to kiss-n-tell, so she just gave me some superficial details.

She met this guy while she was coming out of the supermarket the other day. He seemed really excited to see her at first and approached her like an old friend.

“Hey! How are you?!” Supermarket guy said happily.

“Umm, fine?” Lil said.

They went out for coffee and he told her all about where he was from, what he did for a living and that he lived in the same neighborhood.  Lil said after she got home that evening something just seemed off about the whole encounter. And then he started repeatedly text messaging and calling her for the next week.  Lil isn’t into clingy guys (who is?) so the whole thing rubbed her the wrong way.

Then something Supermarket guy had said during their outing sparked her memory. She picked up her phone and thumbed through the text messages that I had sent her a month prior. There it was, Phil’s unattractive photos, looking gangly and wild haired as ever. He had even mentioned being Creole on their date!

It’s winter in Chicago, so when they met for the first time in person, he had on a heavy coat and a hat that covered up that crazy hair of his. He wasn’t the man of her dreams looks wise, but he was nice and chatty, so why not get a drink together? After all if someone offers, most likely they’re paying ^_~

In the end, Lil decided that they wouldn’t meet up again. He was way too clingy, texting and calling her all the damn time. The weird thing is that he never once mentioned that he knew her, or at least thought he knew her. He never said, hey I have a picture of you in my phone that you sent me a month ago from a different phone number when you called yourself TK. Why aren’t you calling yourself that anymore? How many phone numbers do you have?

Maybe its normal to have multiple phone numbers since he called me from at least 3 different area codes. Maybe he was that hard up for love and/or companionship that he didn’t bother to ask questions or maybe he just didn’t care. Again not trying to sound like, “one of those girls we all hate” but all of my friends are Pretty good looking. I don’t hang out with ugly bitches so it goes without saying that Lil is a looker. He had hit the hot girl jackpot! Moral of the story is: return to using a landline and make sure the number is an unlisted one.

Deux Degrees of Separation

So one day I’m taking a mid-day nap on my fluffy couch when I hear my phone ringing. I wake up in just enough time to miss the call and notice it’s a Chicago number I’ve never seen before.

One of the main rules of working in the promo industry is always answer your phone since a lot of times gigs are on a first come first serve basis. If a client can't reach you they may give your job to the next person who actually does answer their phone call. On this fateful day, following the always-answer/return-phone-calls rule lead to an interesting situation. I immediately called back the number that started with the popular 773 Chicago area code and the conversation went like this:

“Hi I just got a call from this number”

“Is this TK?”

I cleared my throat and put on my professional work voice. “Yes. With whom am I speaking?”

“This is Phil.”

Thinking that maybe I had worked a program with Phil or had applied for a freelance job that I didn’t remember, I tried to jog my memory. When I really couldn’t remember him I thought it would be better to just ask this Phil character who he is so that we could get the conversation over with and I could resume my napping.

“Uh, hi Phil. I apologize but where do I know you from?”

“Well it’s a long story.”

Not what you want to hear when you really just want to go back to sleep.

“You see I’m thinking that we met at a club in downtown Chicago. Maybe near Dearborn?"

Just so you know, I don’t hang out at any clubs in downtown Chicago. In the 4 years I’ve lived here I might have been to 3 actual clubs. I feel like I’m past my clubbing days and even when I was “of clubbing age” it wasn't really my thing. I’m more of a house party, swanky lounge or warehouse event type gal.  

Feeling increasingly skeptical, I reply, “Uh huh.”

Phil continues with, “I had your number saved in my phone. It said TK and had four stars next to it. I know you must be a really hot lady if I put four stars next to your name.”

I wonder if he means 4 out of 5 stars. What grading scale are we talking about here?

“I must have had your number for at least a year but I dropped my phone in water one day and I lost my numbers for a while.”

Even though this phone call is weird, I figure if nothing else I can blog about it. Look at me, always hustling. 

“Yea I hear that if you put your phone in rice it will dry it out and then you can use it again”

“Oh I should try that next time. I just recently turned the phone back on, but I can’t remember what you look like. Could you describe yourself to me?”

Okay, phone call just took a turn for the worse.  

“Actually I’m really sleepy. Your call woke me up. Maybe we can chat later?” 

Plan was to save his number as DO NOT ANSWER and block all text messages from him.

“Oh sorry about waking you up. Well I’ma let you go…”

Thank God

“…but I’m 33 years old, about 6ft tall and 200lbs. I’m Black and Creole with wavy hair. I know 200 sounds like a lot but I work out. What about you?”

This time I’m mildly interested in where he is going with this. He obviously thinks being Black and Creole is going to tip the scales in his favor or give him some kind of sexy guy advantage with me. IT WOULD NOT. Not because I have anything against Black/Creole guys because racially, I'm an equal opportunity employer. My question is, who calls someone out of the blue, after supposedly having their number for a year just to talk? The statute of limitations has definitely passed on being able to call me back. However, given this random new information, I don’t hang up right away.

“You know, I’m brown skinned, medium sized, black hair with brown eyes.” 

And so are 3.1 million black girls in the United States.

“Would you say that you have a big booty?”

My mistake for not hanging up earlier.

“It’s not huge or anything. But I really need to get back to sleep.”

I don't even try to hide my disgust. Weirdo.

“Well maybe we can go out tonight around 7 to Starbucks. We really need to meet back up”

Am I being punked? Negro I don’t know you! We have NEVER met!

“I don’t know about that. I work the night shift. Gotta catch them Z’s.”

“Well do you have an intelligent phone? You could send me a photo and I could send you one too.”

Intelligent phone? Umm, you just proved your intelligence right then and there. I’m not even making this up. He really said that!

“Nah, I have one of those old school flip phones. All it does it ring. Listen Phil it was nice talking to you but I really have to go. Have a good day!”

And a good life creeper.

So I call up my friend Lil (whom you may remember from here) and tell her all about my twilight zone convo with Phil. Lil is a pretty good sport about things and she wanted to see what he looked like. She suggests that I send him a pic of her and ask for one back. Okay, cool. As long as it’s not my photo I don’t care. I don’t want some strange guy who got my OUT OF STATE phone number from God knows where, masturbating to my photo on his intelligent phone. I send him a photo of Lil asking for one in return. This is what I get.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Wait for it

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Oh it gets better

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

..

WTF?

O_o Now I really wanna know where he got my number! At least after seeing that beat up flip phone from 2003 I know why he called it an “intelligent phone.” Real talk, if I were going to give my number out to a guy, it wouldn’t be this guy! I showed my Mom his photos and she almost spit her Cheerios out laughing. Even If I were drunk and out of my mind I still have standards. I’m a 4 star girl after all.

I’ve given out my number maybe once in the last year to a cute Puerto Rican guy that worked at Marshall’s. We made eye contact from across the store, chatted as he rang up my items and he told me silly jokes about customers. I can easily fall for a cute guy with a great sense of humor any day. I went out on a limb, gave him my number and he never called me back. Maybe he dropped his phone in water and I can expect a phone call in a year, but personally I like to think that he got hit by a car. And now I obviously can’t go back to my neighborhood Marshall’s because it would be way too hard to deal with him not being there. Tragedy.

Anyways, as far as this Phil business goes, a funny thing happened on the way home from the supermarket the other day. I’ll tell you what went down in Part II of Deux Degrees of Separation.