I also listen to late night radio and I heard a commercial come over the air recently (if you consider two months ago ‘recent’), about a new friend website that was brand new. It was a place where like-minded individuals with similar interests, (blah, blah, *normal sale’s pitch yammering*) can find their special someone so they won’t feel so lonely or something to that effect.
I listened while cranking out another sewing project that I pray will take off and sell, but we’ll see once I smack the finished creations that took me not only hours per night to design and finish, but also a lot of love went into their designs. So, while I sewed, I listened, and the call-in radio program resumed.
I thought about the radio commercial and still had a ton of tweets to do and my day wasn’t nearly finished. I still had to prepare my lunch for the following day, figure out my schedule for the week, so-on-and-so-forth. Oh, yeah, and let’s not forget mowing both front and back too when I find the time.
It was about the end of July of this year when I caught word that a neighbor on our street recently lost his wife due to cancer. I didn’t know this neighbor all too well (in fact, didn’t know them at all except the times when the husband would gladly mow my lawn when I didn’t have a working lawn mower). The language barrier is an issue since I never learned any Spanish and he speaks limited broken English.
And the following day I return home and no more had put away my groceries and returned outside in the sweltering heat when the neighbor, who lost his wife no more than a month ago, spots me like a fly on a pile of dog crap and hurries over.
Instead of asking me the usual, “Need lawn mowed?” The first thing to pop out of his mouth was, “Hey, you nice in those jeans. You all alone here, rich woman—and no man,” something to that effect. For some reason he seems to think I’m excessively wealthy since he commented to me very early on “You have no job? You rich woman.” If I were wealthy I wouldn’t be living in this neighborhood. And yes I have *a* job.
Not picking up right away to the comment he made about my attire, I simply agreed. Whatever, I think to myself. Inwardly, it dawns on me and I soon find myself thinking, “Holy Mackerel! This man is not only old enough to be my dad *ick*, but he’s trying to hit me up for a date and flirt with me at the same time!”
He was trying to do just that and then he went on to explain, “Me wife passes away a month ago… so, can I take you out to dinner sometime or—?”
“Let me think about it.” I stupidly replied without thinking. And then there was a creepy sensation washing through me, perhaps it was that tug of reason everyone experiences at a precise moment when something awkward, weird, or just plain creepy is happening as was such in my case. The neighbor kept asking me about whacking the weeds and when a good time could be arranged for that.
Absent-mindedly I replied dully, “Friday.” His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree with a look I’ve never seen before from him. I’m now getting nervous, uncomfortable and feel creeped out by it. He resumed his earlier conversation about how lonely he was over at his house now with his wife gone and he needed the company of a lady friend, “You know?”
He must have thought of himself as a real stud muffin wearing a filthy stained dirty ragged t-shirt, his rotund, unclean appearance wedged into shorts and he was missing a few teeth to top it all off.
“Why you shy girl? Am I ugly?” he said in his broken English, trying to sound teasing or whispering in a come-on tone of voice in a creepy school boy way which was revolting to me. Speechless, and mortified by what I was hearing (and that his wife had only been dead a month and he didn’t seem to show any grief over that), I failed to answer. I politely ended the conversation and hurried back inside, locking my door.
I called my parents with the most disgusting experience to ever happen to me. Immediately, my father told me to tell that guy not to whack the weeds, not now or ever again. My mom agreed. And it made me wonder if all this time my neighbor hadn’t been spying on me without my knowledge. I had put up some inexpensive drapes over my bedroom when I moved in eons ago without thinking about the window’s location being in straight line to the neighbor’s house.
And for years the same cheap drapes hung over my window. I had installed a security light out front, so I figure no big deal. If anyone stepped foot close to the drive, the light would automatically turn on. After this day in particular, I immediately put up light blocking (heavy drapes) over my window. I only have a sinking suspicion about this. I never gave it much thought to switch out my drapes until that day my neighbor tried to ask me out on a date. Since I don’t know how much English he understands other than the basic ‘yes’ and ‘no’, trying to be assertive with him I thought was going to be a challenge.
When he left his house that same day I took the opportunity to mow my lawn at breakneck speed and yanked the weeds out by hand. I hurried in and was so nervous and grossed out after he tried flirting with me that day that I accidentally broke off the down spout of the rain gutter in my lawn mowing haste.
And when I did see that particular neighbor again, he tried to come over with his weed whacker on another occasion out of the blue and start whacking weeds in my yard. I hurried over and told him not to worry about it. I told him that I had somebody else coming over to do that for me. I hope he took the hint and thankfully hasn’t returned to bug me as of yet. However, I do notice from time to time he’ll pretend to move his vehicle and switch on his brights and this takes place after I arrive home very late. When I know I will be greeting the public, I dress exceptionally nice. But I got the sinking feeling in my gut my neighbor was just out there to get a cheap thrill one late evening when I returned home, then when I went in, he shut off the lights, stepped out of his vehicle and returned to move it no more than five minutes later. And today he pulled in my drive just as I was getting preparing to take off. I pretended not to pay any attention and he backed up and left. Could be just coincidence—who knows.
Which brings me back to that radio advertisement I heard. I signed up under the mistaken impression that if I didn’t like it, I could delete my account. Sounds simple, right? Wrong.
This new online friendship site must be the site from Hell—literally. The ‘tech’ or support staff (if they truly exist) doesn’t reply and you get a run-around and generic ‘welcome’ e-mail if you ask them how to go about deleting your account and why your password isn’t recognized. And forget about deleting your account. It routes to another webpage where your password is ‘INCORRECT’ even after you triple check your user information on their stupid ‘reason for deleting your account questioner’ page. All works peachy-keen on their main site.
And what appears when I log in? My real locale that I never disclosed. I forget we no longer live in an era where our information can’t be set to ‘private’ anymore. That’s the main reason why I quit facebook. If you leave your profile information blank, facebook will fill in your real locale without your permission.
After about the twentieth time of fighting with my privacy settings on facebook, I decided to delete my account. I recall I got the standard message, “Your facbook account will be deleted in fourteen days,” and then it’s still out there floating around in cyberspace.
When I signed up to be on this new website and was met with frustration after an hour of using it, then trying to delete my account to no avail, I figure to leave it in cyberspace as well. And right off the bat I get an email on the site with the subject line, Looking for Groupies. I see a pervert is trying to live out their rock n’ roll fantasies. I just roll my eyes, send the email to the trash unread and never returned to that site.
As always thank you for your likes, comments, shares, re-blogs, etc. I sincerely appreciate it. 🙂