I forgot how much I like blogging about boys

My stories these days are funnier than they were a year ago and MUCH more G-rated. Forgive my previous promiscuity.

Story #1... From the mouth of a stranger.

I was walking down the hall to TV/Video Production a week or two ago feeling a little down on my appearance that day. I know, I know, beauty is only skin deep... a piece of wisdom, ladies... beauty might only be skin-deep, but ugly goes CLEAR TO THE BONE. It was amid this less-than-beautiful day that I heard the words "I love you" come from a young man near me. I didn't think he was talking to me. I looked over. Oh. He was talking to me. I gave him the most quizzical of all quizzical looks and paused. "And you look beautiful today," he quickly added. My quizzical look broke into a genuine, relieved smile. "Thank you!" I said gratefully. I walked into TV/Video Production feeling more confident than before. I'm telling you, it doesn't matter if it's a complete stranger. The words "I love you" and "you look beautiful" are the keys to success.

Story #2... I have a stalker.

He's half Mexican, half Italian. Racism aside, it's like a drug lord met the Mafia. I met him about a week ago at the school where I'm taking my medical assisting class. It started as a simple conversation. He was taking the EMT class with a friend of mine who sometimes comes into my classroom. I was helping them study for a test being my usual charming self. Maybe I should have been more alert on stalker-watch, but do I really have to act less charming to protect myself from the possible advances of stalkers? He didn't even seem to have stalker potential at first. I became suspicious for the first time when he used to words "Euphoria" to describe meeting me. I felt like I missed something important. He had my number. (Yes, I gave it to him. I thought he was a friend of a friend, OK?)

The next day, he was texting me asking when we were going to hang out. I explained that I had class that night (like most nights) until 9, plus a ton of homework, plus school early the next day. He replied with, "I was thinking about 8." I didn't bother texting him back. He had NO REASON to be at the school that night, but around 8, he wandered into my classroom. He asked me when I'd be done. "Um... I had an hour left of class." He sat next to me and TALKED TO ME while I tried to study for an hour. I told him I had homework. I said maybe we should do something another day. My subtle hints weren't getting through. When I went out to my car to leave, he followed me a little bit, then stayed at the curb. I started pulling out and he walked right up to my car. I assumed I'd forgotten something. I tried to roll down my window, but it was iced over. I put my car in park, which automatically unlocks the door. HE OPENED THE DOOR, SAT DOWN, AND ASKED, "So where are we going?"

Usually I'm really good in situations like that. Usually I would have the sense to tell him to get out of my car, I was going home. But I froze. I don't know that I've ever been so scared in my life of another person (with a few exceptions). I decided to play it cool, a tactic Peyton failed so miserably at when dealing with her stalker in One Tree Hill. "Well," I said smoothly, "I have to go grocery shopping." (LIE.) So I drove to Albertson's. There were a million questions in my head. Was I supposed to give him a ride home? Did he misunderstand the words "I have so much homework?" If THAT didn't deter him, shouldn't "I'm 17 and in high school," have done the trick? In Albertson's, I bought exactly one apple and a 3-hole punch. He wanted to know where we were going next. He suggested we go to Burger King to talk. I don't have ANY idea what he was thinking. Burger King's environment is not conducive to the wooing he might have deluded himself into believing he was doing. It was nearly closing. He didn't even buy any food. Instead, he chose a table in the back corner and told me about his job at the auto shop, his favorite video games, the car accident he got into a few month back. Then the cherry on top. He told me that I was the only person he talked to.

Oh. My. Stars. The warning bells were going crazy. I wanted to use an excuse, but my mind was blank. He already knew I didn't live at home and never had a curfew. I had nothing to tell this guy who apparently hadn't spoken to another human being in years and fell in love with the first girl to talk to him. I can decipher between lonely and just straight-up creepy, and this guy was just straight-up creepy. I was so scared, an emotion I feel rarely. Finally he agreed to leave Burger King, but wanted to keep driving around. It was thankfully only a minute or two later that my 12 year-old pseudosister EAS (those of you who know my living situation understand who I'm talking about) called me to find out where I was and when I'd be home. We have a code that means "Tell me to come home." When we say the weather is bad, it means get me out of here. If it's good, it means that we're having a good time.

EAS: Who are you with?

CC: A friend... But the weather is bad. Or, at least the roads are.

EAS: *blank expression. obviously didn't catch on.* So... when are you going to be home?

CC: I don't know, when do you want me home? (A little more forcefully that time.)

EAS: Let me ask my mom... (MOOOOOM! When do you want CC home?)...... She says she wants you home now since you were up all night.

CC: Oh I'm so sorry! I'll be there as soon as possible!

Can I just say that my pseudomom has NEVER enforced a curfew on me EVER? I was so grateful I started LAUGHING after I dropped Stalker off at his car. There's so much more creepiness. Unsettling texts. Incessant phone calls. I feel a little cautious all the time. Now I'm about to head off to my class hoping he's not WAITING FOR ME IN THE PARKING LOT (which he would TOTALLY do). Seriously, I don't know what to tell him. I said I liked someone else. His response? "I'm going to keep bugging you anyway because I like you." There is determination, and there is obsession. He crossed the line.

Story #3... Yet another confession of love. I must make one hell of an impression.

I had been left at church by my usually-chaotic pseduofamily on Sunday (yesterday). I had no ride, so I was mingling with a woman I knew for thirty minutes hoping she'd offer me a ride. A guy I know from school (who I've spoken to a grand total of five times counting today) heard me say I had no ride. We'll call him Shawn Jeltzer for the sake of the story. He offered me a ride. I gladly accepted. The snow was a foot deep outside and I didn't want to walk. There was small talk exchanged in the car until out of the blue, he threw out "I sort of have a crush on you." And I'm feeling like the conversation just went, "Yeah I liked my sixth grade teacher too, and I don't play basketball very well, and I had math with him last year, and I sort of have a crush on you, and I love snow too, and..." My tried and true reaction to such a statement? "You're a sweetheart. Well, this is where I live! Thanks for the ride!"

Boys are ridiculous. That is all.

The Goings On in California - Part 1

Hello Ladies,

I wouldn't ordinarily be posting on the Boy Blog while on vacation in California, but when I have so much to say (and I'm waiting for my friend to get out of the shower), it seemed necessary. I've had some great times here. I'm here with Jenn, McKenzie and Covey. Each of these girls is beautiful and funny and always up for a good time. I have no idea what our parents were thinking when they let us go to California without any chaperone.

The first day I arrived in Anaheim, I was given the chance to walk around the city by myself for 4 hours. How did this come about? Jenn, McKenzie and Covey have been here a few days longer than me, staying at McKenzie's grandma's house in Long Beach and soaking up the sun on the beach. I flew in Monday morning, and my shuttle dropped me off at the hotel by 11. The girls were supposed to be here around 12:30, but because they are who they are (God bless them), they didn't leave until 2 and wouldn't be here until 2:40. Perfect.

I asked the hotel to hold my luggage so I could explore the area a little more. They said that they would usually let me check in early, but it was pre-paid for and it wasn't under my name, so that idea was shot out the window. Let me paint a visual of that first-day experience in Anaheim. The morning I flew out was a miserable, snowy day, and Anaheim was warm, beautiful and sunny. Imagine you are alone in a city you're completely unfamiliar with. It's technically a safe town (my hotel is less than a mile from the Disneyland entrance), and you know you're going to have to entertain yourself for possibly hours. Naturally, your first instinct would be to buy a giant red slushee from the 7 Eleven next door, then head down the street that's lined with palm trees. Naturally.

I have walked down the Vegas Strip looking glamorous before. I have jogged past construction areas with a slightly-better-than-average bod. I have lain on the beaches of Cancun in less-that-modest attire. But I have never received more catcalls and whistles than what I received that sunny day in Anaheim, walking down the street in ridiculously modest clothes with that "traveler's glow" that makes most people turn away blushing. To a certain point, catcalls can do a lot for your self-esteem. Or simply make you laugh, if you're me. Occasionally, a dude gets enough motivation to do MORE than catcall, such as jump over a bush from the parking lot he was standing in to ask directions to somewhere.

When he jumped over the bush, I considered running. A bush-jumper is obviously displaying some form of desperation, and desperation makes people do crazy things. However, he introduced himself as Danny and began talking to me. I was talking back. The spontaneous street attack was beginning to flow. I was talking to a stranger in every sense of the phrase, but there were plenty of people around, so I disregarded every warning my mother ever gave me and enjoyed the conversation. (I didn't get a single catcall when talking to Danny.)

Things we discussed:

Where I am from. (Utah.)

Why I'm in California. (Friend's 18th birthday.)

How old I am. (18 - oops, it slipped.)

How old he is. (28 - forgive me.)

How he couldn't see me dating guys my own age. (Imagine if he knew I was 16.)

His job. (Auto parts company.)

His dad. (Hated being a lawyer.)

My mom. (Is a lawyer.)

My plans for that week in California. (Party hard. At Disneyland.)

My plans for the following day. (He suggested coffee with him.)

My phone number. (I gave him my real number. Don't know why.)

That night, my phone broke. Goodbye, Danny.

Two hours and a giant red slushee later, I was making my way back to the hotel from Target. My friends were finally leaving Long Beach and would be in Anaheim within the hour. It was a relatively long walk back to the hotel. I'd walked far enough that I was in a slightly less crowded and less nice part of town. I was on the side of the street that very few people seemed to be walking on. That's when I almost got kidnapped.

Allow me to explain. I cannot prove that his intentions were to kidnap me. I cannot prove that anything would have happened. But I can put the pieces together enough to figure out that I was in a bad situation. It started with one whistle. It might have been when I was crossing the street somewhere. I don't remember exactly. But when I recognized the same Mexican in a black car suddenly turning around to FOLLOW me, I knew something fishy was up. (Racism is out. I was just stating the facts.)

He pulled up next to me and motioned for me to come over to him. (Tell me; do I have STUPID written across my forehead???) I smiled a little but but kept walking. I knew my mother would be anxious to give me yet another lecture on stranger danger at this moment. The man drove away and I thought it was over. I was still on edge and was very aware of my surroundings.

I was walking fast, trying to get to an area with more people. I hurried past the entrance to a small, run-down souvenir shop just as a car pulled in right behind me, almost hitting me. I had the strong feeling that I shouldn't turn around until I had gotten further away. I waited a moment before turning around to see the same man in the car, his eyes still on me. He again motioned for me to come over, and started pulling his car around the parking lot to the other side where I was walking. I pulled out my phone and frantically started calling my mom over and over again. I don't know why that was my automatic response. "Hey, there's this creeper trying to get me into his car. I should definitely call my mom who is 264 miles away."

After I realized my mom wasn't going to answer her phone, I got smart and called my dad. Who was at home back in Utah. I told him what was going on and asked him to just stay on the phone with me until I got back to the hotel. I was laughing hysterically, but on the verge of tears. By the time I got back to my hotel, I felt safe and I had regained my composure by the time my friends arrived.

Watch out for Part 2 of The Goings on in California, coming soon!!