Stalk It Up To Nothing

It’s been exactly a week since I ran into J-Fed and his date T.O.W. (The Other Woman) at the concert of the summer. The air was flat. The music was loud. And some of the concert goers I could have done without seeing. The two attendees I’m speaking of were none other than J-Fed and T.O.W.

You see, J-Fed was in all his glory when we bumped into each other among thousands of other people. As I turned around and found myself face to face with the “happy” couple,  I did my best not to get up on top of one of the picnic tables and take a poll on how many people thought they were sleeping together as they tenderly nibbled on ice cold beer and corn and cheese arepas.

Yeah, I’m crazy like that, and I’m most certainly not averse to public displays of humiliation. But somehow, I just wasn’t in the mood to do anything nutty. T.O.W. was smart enough to keep her back to me the entire time so as not to incite a bitchfight. If she hadn’t, there’s a good possibility I would have melted her with my beady black eyes because according to J-Fed “I’m psycho like that.”

Even worse, I could have put a curse on her that she’d come down with a wicked case of diarrhea halfway into the concert. There are plenty of things I “could’ve” done, yet I simply went about my business as if I had never seen them. Even as J-Fed raised his beer at me and gloated, I still ignored the prick and his chick.

Needless to say, I kept the crazy tucked away for the evening. I didn’t give him any ammo to use against me at a later date. So imagine my surprise when he called my phone the very next morning. At first, I thought he must have the wrong number. You see, why on Earth should he be calling me? What did we have to say to each other? Last time I checked, the answer was well “nothing.”