(Disclaimer: I do NOT in any way, shape, or form condone the act of stalking. This may be a true story, but I am of sound mind and body, and am posting this for pure comedic purposes. Oh, and I apologize for the length of this post. Not cool.)
So I've been blasted with requests lately to blog about the story of how Bryant and I started dating. I take full credit for our entire relationship, as I am the one put forth all the effort towards getting together. You'll see why after reading this post. And please... After reading this... Don't judge me....
I met Bryant at a random party on Labor Day weekend, back in the day - fall of my freshman year of college. We met, I thought he was hot, and we didn’t speak again until Christmas break. That sucks, right? Well, I’ll admit we didn’t speak or hang out again because I had a boyfriend at the time. Yeah, Yeah... I know.... I'll skip over those dreary details. So long story short: boyfriend and I broke up, and I decided to get Bryant's "attention.” Or as some people
(like my family) might call it, stalk him. Alright, let me tell you the whole story so you don’t think I’m TOTALLY crazy. I need to preface it a bit with some necessary details.
- Detail #1) Over the Christmas holiday Las Cruces, NM is like a ghost town. When the University shuts down, so does the rest of the town, for the most part. So the only people in town are the locals, and the basketball players and cheerleaders because they’re required to attend the home basketball games that happen over the break. So all my friends were out of town, and I was bored.
- Detail #2) It turns out I'd seen one of Bryant's roommates, Travis, on campus sometime before the fall semester was over and he casually mentioned to me how they had moved into a house in the neighborhood behind where their old apartment was. Okay, cool. Nothing was thought of that comment....at the time. Though this casual mentioning would come in handy later.
Alright, so here's the short and sweet version of what happened. I broke up with my boyfriend. For lack of a better term, I was looking for a "rebound," and I might have chosen Bryant to be that rebound.
(Sorry, Bry. True story.) I was hanging out with my sister one day over break and told her about a hot guy named Bryant I wanted to "get to know." I mentioned how I thought I knew where he lived and how I thought he drove a small blue truck.
(Here's a fun fact for you. The truck I was thinking about was indeed small, but it was red, not blue. But worse...he didn't even drive a truck at that time. It belonged to a friend of his. Samsonite! I was WAAYYY off!) So I suggested to my sister that maybe, since we were both bored and all, we should go drive and see if we could find his house. What a great plan! So off we went and drove around....and drove around some more...and then drove around some more. We drove up and down the same street looking for a small blue truck. And we drove for a... well... a little while... to say the least. For some reason, we just couldn't find the truck!
(Another fun fact: Remember that conversation where Travis told me they lived? Well, I must have mis-understood him on which neighborhood they moved to. Because they lived on the complete OTHER side of town. Damn. Another Samsonite moment! DOH!) Alright, so maybe that incident was a little stalker-ish. Moving on.
I knew there was a basketball game coming up in a few days, so I decided to try and email Bryant to see "what was up" so maybe we could hang out before or after the game or something. Problem. I didn't know his email address
(or have his cell, which is why I resorted to email). Well, LUCKILY, New Mexico State University has an email system that's pretty simple. Everyone's address starts with the first initial of your first name and then your last name followed by '
@nmsu.edu.' Easy enough, right? So I tried to email Bryant at the address, 'bfunston@nmsu.edu." No response. Next day equaled no response either. Ugh! Who doesn't check their email?? Bryant Funston, that's who.
(Side note: This was in the day before wonderful stalker tools, such as Facebook. Facebook that week would have made my life MUCH easier! And yes, I just dated myself in letting you know that Facebook was not yet in existence!) As already mentioned, during the break there were basketball games going on, so I was able to at least see Bryant during the games, since he was playing and I was cheering. Well, since I couldn't figure out how to get a hold of him
(I mean, seriously. I tried emailing, driving by his house, oh and did I mention I looked him up in the school phone book? Whoops. That too. Needless to say, this guy was elusive.), I decided to wait for him outside the locker room after the game.
What I thought was a sure-fire way to finally talk to him, ended up a bust. After the game, I went upstairs to the cheerleading locker room to grab my things and then headed down the hall to wait outside the men's locker room. I pulled out my Sprint flip phone and started to pretend to text.
(Another side note: This was BEFORE texting was popular and a wonderful little thing called "unlimited texting" was available. He probably wouldn't have even known what I was pretending to do on my flip phone! Smooth, Kristin, real smooth.) So I waited for a few minutes, all the while ignoring the weird looks from the athletic trainers who were hanging around. Players started emerging. I got excited. I paced the hallway outside the locker room. More players came. I wait MORE minutes. The last players emerged from the locker room. No dice. He wasn't with them. He must have snuck out without even changing! GEEZ!! What would it take to just TALK to this guy?? Ugh.
Two days later. Another basketball game. To set the scene I'll let you know that prior to the Aggie basketball games, all the cheerleaders and basketball players line up in the tunnel before the team's grand entrance. The players get all pumped and riled up before heading out by clapping, yelling, and bumping chests, or whatever other testosterone-induced motivational actions male do to get ready to compete. This particular day was no different. Cheerleaders jumping up and down. Players chest-bumping and clapping. So what do I decide to do right there in the tunnel? Seize the day! He was looking in my direction, since I was standing between him and the court. I waved at him and tried to mouth the words, "I emailed you!" while pretending to type with my fingers. Surely, he would know what I meant and go home to check his email. Nope. He gave me a look that said, "W. T. F?" So again, I tried mouthing the words while doing my own version of ASL with my fingers. Still no. Ugh. I gave an embarrassed smile and waved him off. There was a game to play and cheer for.
(Come to find out later that he thought I was trying to say that I played the piano. That's fantastic for making an impression, huh?) Alright, this is the part where I admit I felt like a complete and utter jackass. He must have thought I was a complete weirdo. I mean, I hadn't talked to him in months and here I was trying to talk to him through American Sign Language that I can't even understand myself? Ugh. So embarrassing. So there was NO excuse. I HAD to talk to him and explain myself. I mean, I had only emailed him at an address that wasn't even confirmed as his... just to say hi. And we had only spoken once in our lives prior to that. No big deal, right?
Alright, so after THIS game, I sprinted upstairs to the locker rooms to wait for him again. I don't even think I "broke"
(you know, the 1-2-3-AGGIES! team circle break) with my squad before leaving. I was on a mission. I hustled to again park myself in front of the men's locker room, ignoring yet again the weird looks from the athletic trainers, while pretending to text on my sweet "flip." It paid off. Bryant was the first guy to leave the locker room. But then, wouldn't you know it? I couldn't figure out what to say. I think words such as,
"email, tried, couldn't get a hold of, what are you doing tonight?" awkwardly stumbled out of my mouth. He looked at me and answered plainly with the blankest stare I've ever received in my life, "Going home and going to bed." .......
(insert long awkward pause.).......
Fantastic. I had been trying for a week or so to talk to this guy for him to "
go home and go to bed???" I don't think so. I then proceeded to invite myself over to his house to watch a movie. He must have felt completely horrible and embarrassed for his poor little stalker cheerleader, cause he agreed. Whew! About time I got to hang out with him! So we exchanged digits and went our separate ways to go home and shower before our movie watching. I guess I have to mention that I called his phone three times after I arrived home, and he didn't answer. Turns out he was in the shower. So I'm a little impatient, what can I say?
We hung out that night and watched "The Patriot." But we only hung out for the duration of the movie, because I guess he hadn't been lying when he said he wanted to go to bed. So he went to bed. And I went home.
(If you know Bryant at all, you'll realize this fact is not a lie or exaggeration by any means. He's been known to kick people out of our home so he can get to bed. Let's just say he is NOT the world's most hospital host.) He gave me a hug and told me he'd call the next day, cause some of his roommates would be back in town and we could all hang out.
The next day came. I ate breakfast and waited for a call. Nothing. Noon rolled around and still no call. Ugh. I was NOT going to let this guy NOT like me!! I decided to wait until later that night to call him if I didn't hear from him before. No big deal. I figured he was probably just waiting for his friends to get in town. Finally, four o'clock came and still no call! I couldn't handle it anymore. So I called him.
(Yes, Ladies, I know, I know....NEVER call the guy...blah blah blah. Whatever. I couldn't help it. It just happened.) When he answered he told me that his friends had JUST gotten into town and he hadn't been planning on calling me until later that evening when there was a "plan" for the evening.
Doh.
Well, anyway, the rest is history. I hung out with him and his roommates that night and five years later, married the guy. Moral of the story, stalking isn't so bad. What's the big deal? I mean, I stalk people on Facebook all the time. And you obviously stalk me, as seen by the fact that you've read this entire post. But honestly, we stalk because we care. That's all there is to it. And that's why I stalked my husband. I stalked because I cared.
Don't get me wrong. I'm all about "enhancing" or doing whatever it is you feel the need to if it makes you feel better about yourself. Trust me. I'm all for it. BUT. There's come a point where enough is enough. Seriously. If you start out in life already gorgeous like Heidi did, there's nothing really that will do anymore good. Once you reach the peak, there's nowhere to go but down. And she's already started the downward slope. The same slope that Michael Jackson crashed down after his 50 gazillionth plastic surgery. I'm assuming she's working towards the surgical mask look that MJ rocked out for so long.
Here are a couple before-and-after photos of Heidi:
Don't get me wrong! I'm not a Heidi Montag-Pratt-Whatever-Her-Name-Is hater! I don't dislike her by any means. I honestly just worry about her. I know I don't know her, but that doesn't mean I want her to go down the same superficial path that the King of Pop went down. But only time will tell. I wish both her & her husband luck. I wouldn't want to be married to a blonde Michael Jackson either.
