My girlfriend will tell you she’s my #1 fan. My friends say the same. The parents brag about how funny I am. They’re most likely being more nice than anything. And they’re not my true biggest fans.
Well, at least not anymore.
I’ve always been secretly jealous of women who have stalkers. And every woman has pretty much has had one solid creep. I’m sure I’ve been that creep to someone. Not in reality, but at least in their mind. I recently had a woman think I was stalking her and her family on Google+. True, she’s an obvious wack-job, but I’m sure she’s telling her friends that I’m a stalker.
Anyway, I now can say I have my first superfan and potential first stalker!
I can’t tell you how excited I am. Wait, I can tell you. I’m so excited!
Now, I’m being really unfair to this woman. My self-esteem is just way too low to think anyone would think like me this much in a non-psycho way. I hope she doesn’t turn into someone crazy. I hope she becomes my biographer. I could use someone that writes about me. Let’s start at the time I was terrified to go to Darla Johnson’s pottery birthday party because I thought I would be the only boy there in kindergarden. That wound has never healed.
Anyway. Here’s a note I got this morning and my reply.
That means this broad read over 100k words of mine. Everything I ever wrote. That’s pretty awesome.
She’s getting a ThoughtsFromParis piece of clothing. I sincerely hope she is a man’s large, as it is all I have.
Oh, and all you so-called “fans” – you now have competition. Get to reading!