A friend of mine was telling me that he walked out of the grocery store and found a note on his car from this girl he went out with once about six months ago. They hadn’t really hit it off, so it had just been one date. He told me, “She’s a psycho.”
“Why? What did she do?”
“Well, we went out that one time and now she’s leaving notes on my car.”
“What did the note say?”
He pulled out the note – He’d saved it. –and read it to me. Here’s what that “psycho” wrote: “Hi! Recognized your car, and thought I’d leave a note. Hope you’ve been good. Jen”
Really out there, huh?
“You’re the psycho,” I told him. “It’s a note. It’s a nice note. Did she drive from another state just to leave this crazy note on your car?”
“Did she call and text you repeatedly like a crazy person after that one date?”
“No,” he said and looked a little sheepish.
“Did she call you at all?”
“Okay, so this crazy psycho girl who you once liked enough to spend an evening with called you one time and left a note on your car one time when she lives in the same city as you and may actually buy food on occasion?”
“See? You’re not just a psycho, you’re an egomaniac, too. Get over yourself.”
It’s funny, isn’t it? If he’d found a note from someone he’d never met that had read something like, “Hey! Saw you in the parking lot, and I thought you’d looked interesting. Give me a call. By the way, I love your car. A Hot Chick.” He’d have been all over that.
It’s all about perspective.
I have in the past tucked notes under the windshield wiper for a boyfriend or two. Nothing crazy. Just a smiley face or an “I love you!” or “Have a Great Day.” Because I do that when I dig someone. But, I don’t think I’d leave a note under the windshield wiper of some guy who’d blown me off.
And though I defended that girl, Jen, to my friend to make a point, I do wonder how she knew he was alone and not with a girlfriend or something? I mean it had been six months. Maybe she saw him walking into the store. Crap. Maybe she was following him. I don’t know.
I run into people I know all the time – on the road, in the store, at a concert. It’s a really small world. And I meet a lot of people, so my world just keeps getting smaller and smaller. I like that, though. I like coincidences. I like the whole six degrees of separation thing.
And I’d like to think that I’d be able to step outside of my own ego to look at a note I found on my windshield from someone who liked me enough to leave one, even after I’d blown them off, as a nice thing instead of a creepy thing. I’d like to think I’d pull out my phone and call them or text them and reconnect, even it were only to say, “Thanks,” and “How’ve you been?”
I don’t know, though. Guess it would depend on the guy.