I Stalk Because I Care

(Disclaimer: I do NOT in any way, shape, or form condone the act of stalking. This may be a true story, but I am of sound mind and body, and am posting this for pure comedic purposes. Oh, and I apologize for the length of this post. Not cool, but it had to be done.)

I’ve been blasted with requests lately to post the story of how Bryant and I started dating. I take full credit for our entire relationship, as I was the one to put forth all the effort in getting together. You’ll see why after reading this post. And please… After reading this… Don’t judge me….

I met Bryant at a random party on Labor Day weekend, back in the day – fall of my freshman year of college. We met, I thought he was hot, and we didn’t speak again until Christmas break.

Pretty anti-climatic story so far.

Well, I will admit we didn’t speak or hang out again because I had a boyfriend at the time. Yeah, Yeah… I know…. I’ll skip over those dreary details.

Long(ish) story short: boyfriend and I broke up, and I decided to get Bryant’s “attention.” Or as some people (like my family) might call it, “stalk” him.

Alright, let me tell you the whole story so you don’t think I’m TOTALLY crazy. I need to preface it a bit with some necessary details.

Detail #1) Over the holidays, Las Cruces, NM is a ghost town. When the University shuts down, so does the rest of the city. So the only people in town are locals, basketball players, and cheerleaders (because they’re required to attend the home basketball games that happen over the break). So all my friends were out of town, and I was bored.

Detail #2) It turns out I’d seen one of Bryant’s roommates, Travis, on campus sometime during the fall semester and he casually mentioned to me the group had moved into a house (he also casually mentioned it was in the neighborhood behind where their old apartment was). Okay, cool. Nothing was thought of that comment….at the time. Though this “casual” mentioning of a location would come in handy later.

Alright, so here’s the short and sweet version of what happened…
(Okay, it’s not really short or sweet, but just go with it).

I broke up with my boyfriend late fall and for lack of a better term, I was looking for a “rebound.” I chose Bryant to be that rebound. (Sorry, Bry. True story.) I was hanging out with my sister over break and told her about a hot guy I wanted to “get to know.” I also mentioned how I thought I knew where he lived and how I thought he drove a small blue truck.
(Here’s a fun fact for you. The truck I was thinking about was indeed small, but it was red, not blue. But worse…he didn’t even own a truck. The truck I was thinking of belonged to a friend of his. Samsonite! I was WAAYYY off!)

I suggested to my sister that maybe, since we were both bored and all, we should go drive and see if we could find his house.

What a great plan!

So off we went to drive around… and then drive around some more. We drove up and down the same street looking for a small, blue truck. And we drove for a… well… a littleish while… to say the least. For some reason, we couldn’t find the truck.
(Another fun fact: Remember that conversation where Travis told me where they lived? Well, I must have mis-understood him on which neighborhood they moved to. Because they lived on the complete OTHER side of town. DOH!)

Alright, so maybe that incident was a little stalkerish. Moving on.

I knew there was a basketball game coming up in a few days, so I decided to try and email Bryant to see “what was up.” My thought was maybe we could hang out before or after the game… or something.

Problem. I didn’t know his email address (or have his phone number, which is why I resorted to email). Well, LUCKILY, New Mexico State University has an email system that’s pretty simple. Everyone’s address starts with the first initial of your first name and then your last name followed by ‘@nmsu.edu.’ Easy enough, right? So I tried to email Bryant at the address, ‘bfunston@nmsu.edu.”

No response. The next day equaled no response either.

Ugh! I was frustrated because, honestly, who doesn’t check their email??

Bryant Funston, that’s who.
(Side note: This was in the day before efficient stalker tools, such as Facebook. That week, Facebook would have made my life MUCH easier! And yes, I just dated myself in letting you know that Facebook was not yet in existence.)

As aforementioned, during the break there were basketball games scheduled, so I was able to at least see Bryant during the games, since he was playing and I was cheering. Since I couldn’t figure out how to get a hold of him (I mean, seriously. I tried emailing, driving by his house, oh and did I mention I tried looking him up in the school phone book? Whoops. That too. Needless to say, this guy was elusive.), I decided to wait for him outside the locker room after the game.

(Stalking alert!)

What I thought was a sure-fire way to finally talk to him, ended up a bust.

After the game, I went upstairs to the cheerleading locker room to grab my things and then back down the hall to wait outside the men’s locker room. (Totally NOT obvious, right??)

I pulled out my super cool, Sprint flip phone and started to pretend to text.
(Another side note: This was BEFORE texting was popular and a wonderful little thing called “unlimited texting” was available. Bryant probably wouldn’t have even known what I was pretending to do on my super cool, Sprint flip phone! Smooth.)

So I waited a few minutes, all the while ignoring the weird looks from the athletic trainers who were hanging around.

Players emerged.
I got excited.
I paced the hallway outside the locker room.
More players came.
I wait MORE minutes and paced MORE steps.
The last player emerged from the locker room.

It wasn’t him. He must have snuck out without even changing! What would it take to just TALK to this guy?? Ugh.

Two days later… Another basketball game.

To set this new scene, you need to know that prior to Aggie basketball games, all the cheerleaders and players line up inside a tunnel before the team’s grand entrance onto the court. The players get pumped and riled up before heading out by clapping, yelling, and bumping chests, or whatever other testosterone-induced motivational actions males do to get ready to compete.

This particular day was no different. Cheerleaders jumping up and down. Players chest-bumping and clapping. So what do I decide to do right there in the tunnel? Seize the day! He was looking in my (general) direction, since I was standing between him and the court. I waved at him and tried to mouth the words, “I emailed you!” while pretending to type with my fingers. Surely, he would know what I meant and go home to check his email.

Nope.

He gave me a look that said, “W. T. F?”

So, again, I tried mouthing the words while doing my own version of ASL with my fingers. He still looked confused.

I gave an embarrassed smile and waved him off. There was a game to play and cheer for. (Come to find out later that he thought I was trying to tell him I played the piano. That’s fantastic for making an impression, huh? Because why wouldn’t he want to know I, an almost complete stranger, played the piano right before his game started?)

Alright, this is the part where I admit I felt like a complete  jackass. He must have thought I was a complete weirdo. I hadn’t talked to him in months and here I was, trying to talk to him through American Sign Language? So embarrassing. So there was NO excuse. I HAD to talk to him and explain myself. I mean, I had only emailed him at an address that wasn’t even confirmed as his… just to say “Hi, remember me?” And we had only spoken once in our lives prior to that. No big deal, right? (Right?!?)

Alright, so after THIS game, I sprinted upstairs to the locker rooms to wait for him again. I don’t even think I “broke” (you know, the “1-2-3-AGGIES!” team circle break) with my squad before leaving.

I was on a mission.

I hustled to again park myself in front of the men’s locker room, ignoring, yet again, the weird looks from athletic trainers, while pretending to text on my sweet “flip.”

It paid off.

Bryant was the first guy to leave the locker room. But then, wouldn’t you know it? I didn’t know what to say. I think words such as, “email, tried, couldn’t get a hold of, what are you doing tonight?” awkwardly fell out of my mouth. He looked at me and answered plainly with the blankest stare I’ve ever received in my life, “Going home and going to bed.” …….

…….(insert looooonnng, awkward pause)…….

Fantastic.

I had been trying for a week or so to talk to this guy for him to just “go home and go to bed???”

I don’t think so.

I proceeded to invite myself over to his house to watch a movie. He must have felt completely horrible and embarrassed for his poor, little, stalker cheerleader, because he agreed. Whew! It was about time I hung out with him! So we exchanged phone numbers and went separate ways in order to go home and shower before our movie watching. (I guess I have to mention that I called his phone three times after I arrived home and got ready, but he didn’t answer. Turns out he was in the shower. So I’m a little impatient, what can I say? I probably should have taken it as a hint.)

We did end up hanging out that night and watched The Patriot. But we only hung out for the duration of the movie, because I guess he hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted to go to bed. So he went to bed. And I went home. (If you know Bryant at all, you’ll realize this fact is not a lie or exaggeration by any means. He’s been known to kick people out of our home so he can get to bed. Let’s just say he is NOT the world’s most hospitable host.) He gave me a hug and told me he’d call the next day, cause some of his roommates would be back in town and we could all hang out.

The next day came. I ate breakfast and waited for a call. Nothing. Noon rolled around and still no call. Ugh.

I was NOT going to let this guy NOT like me!!

I decided to wait until later that night to call him if I didn’t hear from him before. No big deal. I figured he was probably just waiting for his friends to get in town. Finally, four o’clock came and still no call!

I couldn’t handle it anymore. So I called him.
(Yes, Ladies, I know, I know….NEVER call the guy…blah blah blah. Whatever. I couldn’t help it. It just happened.)

When he answered he told me his friends had JUST arrived in town and he hadn’t been planning on calling me until later when there was a “plan” for the evening.

Doh.

Well, anyway, the rest is history. I hung out with him and his roommates that night and every night until five years later, I married the guy.

Moral of the story, stalking isn’t so bad.

What’s the big deal? I mean, I stalk people on Facebook all the time.
And you obviously stalk me, as seen by the fact that you’ve read this entire post.
But honestly, we stalk because we care. That’s all there is to it.

And that’s why I stalked my husband. I stalked because I cared.