Friday, February 13, 2009


I'm afraid I have a stalker. A sweet, elderly stalker. Maybe we'll call him a fan. I have a fan. That sounds less dangerous.

Monday night, as my event was wrapping up and people were heading out the door, a little old man sauntered up to me and struck up a conversation. I could tell that he was eager to talk to someone. He told me about learning to play guitar, moving here, his wife's throat cancer that took her away (at which he started to cry a bit), how he had a stroke and forgot everything he learned and has tried to pick it up again, etc. He talked and talked and presented me his card. He was walking away then turned around and told me he always leaves 'em laughing and he had a dirty joke to tell me. I said no, no - this is a family place. So he told me a clean joke about a woman who got hit by a bus. I laughed and sent him on his way.

The next day, I pulled out some of my HOF stationery and sent him a note, enclosing my card since I didn't have on me to give him the night before, and included the web address for a performer that he was particularly impressed by. I put the note in the mail and didn't think about it anymore.

Until yesterday, when I was sitting with some clients having a meeting about their soiree in April. Out of the corner of my eye I notice this lone man in a sport coat, hair slicked back, strolling around the conservatory. I didn't recognize him until he got closer.

Of course I hopped up from the table, gave him a hug and told him it was nice to see him again. He said he got my note. I told him I regretted I couldn't visit with him more as I was with some clients, so I pointed him in the direction of the musician he was asking about on Monday. Before he left he invited me to a concert with him. Having no idea when or where it was, I declined, telling him I'd already had to turn down tickets to that show. He asked if it would interfere with my work if he called me to chat. I told him he sure could, and that unfortunately I had to get back to my clients.

I came back to my desk after my meeting and told my boss, who was howling. She has a few elderly stalkers fans. I guess we are just too nice. He just seemed so lonely - I mean, he told me he was going home to tell his guitars goodnight. I was only trying to be kind to him. I guess next time I'll be more careful.

Mom, shall I give him your number?


  1. That's hilarious! I just picked up a new friend a Lowes...I feel like I attract weirdos all the time...especially ones that like to talk.

    P.S. I love all the stories on your mom. Mine just got a facebook...scary. I think our moms would be BFF if they knew each other!

  2. That is great, and I think you did the right thing, he sounds lonely to me! Bless his heart.

  3. I was too mesmerized by his perfectly straight white teeth to notice any ill intentions.

  4. You are so that girl who befriends Steve Buscemi in Ghost World.

  5. Perfectly straight white teeth... dentures.

  6. Hahahaha.... ooops. I think you are right. They were gorgeous teeth.

  7. Sorry but I think you led him on. Sending sweet notes with your business card, hoping up from a client meeting, hugs, invites to call you at work...I mean, you were clearly sending out signals.

  8. I agree with you Star.

    Give him your blog address.

  9. You will probably find out (years down the road) that he was super famous in his "hay-day", and you will regret that you never went to that concert with him....


    Gotta love a "fan"!

  10. Y'all are crazy. I was not sending him signals or leading him on. I was treating him the same way I would treat any little old man that came my way. And the note wasn't "sweet" - it was just a note.

    And I've already googled him and can't find anything, good or bad. Maybe I have heard the last of him. Just in case, I am screening my calls at work for a while.


Oh goody!

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