Unwelcome reminders of my past

Oh, the unwanted calls and texts we receive in this age of uninterrupted connectivity.  It has gotten to the point that, during working hours, my mobile phone is set to ignore alerts from all except a few selected parties: co-workers, family members, and a few close friends.

 

There have been a number of entities who have disrupted my peace of mind.  For example, over the past 20 years, I have received occasional messages from someone with whom I had a minor friendship back in the 1980s.  During the period when I lived in New England, I was the assistant manager, and then the manager, of the bookstore at a small liberal arts college.  He was a student there and used to hang out at the store because he fancied himself a budding literary genius.  In reality, he was one of many self-absorbed, unfocused young people who made up the student body.  My clearest recollection was that he had a propensity for dressing in all-black clothing, leading a friend of mine to dub him “Johnny Cash.” 

 

At one point, he was dating an unattractive young woman of uncertain sexuality who, through a series of unfortunate events, briefly became my roommate.  During that period, she told me and others her father had died when he was very much alive, declared herself a lesbian, broke up with her boyfriend (the annoyer in question), then threatened to “retaliate” against said ex-boyfriend by cutting off his penis because he had the temerity to date someone else a few months after they had broken up.  Then, she proceeded to rack up a phone bill in the amount of $537 by calling lesbian sex lines – as the phone was in my name, I got stuck with it when she suddenly moved out.

 

In other words, these two were examples of immaturity, self-absorption, and unnecessary drama.  

 

The female and I have thankfully had no contact in well over 30 years.  The male pops up now and then.  About 20 years ago, I was driving to work when I suddenly heard his voice on the local NPR station being interviewed about a local art exhibition he was promoting.  I told an artist friend of mine about it, and he cackled “That show is a big joke.”  Occasionally, he has submitted comments on this very blog.  These interactions briefly entered and swiftly exited my conscious life.  Then, during business hours on September 19, his call went directly to my voicemail and was followed by a text – both unseen by me until my work day was over.  “Him, again?”  I took advantage of modern technology and blocked his number.  Hopefully, he will take the hint this time.  If not, then he may recognize himself in this blog entry.