Honestly? My ex-boyfriend is stalking me.
Michelle was here not so long ago, and when I told her about everything -- the night of voicemails, when he called me before, during, and after he got in some fight, while he was waiting for the police, and then on his drunken walk home while he made passionate pronouncements of how we're meant to be together.
That's not normal behavior, three months after I broke up with him.
The emails I still receive, like about how he's been reading this, even though I never gave him the address.
There was one that called me a de facto slut for having a new boyfriend within three months of breaking up with my old boyfriend. To which my unsent response is: "Why yes, I do enjoy having orgasms on a regular basis."
The one that begins, "I hate you, I love you."
The one that details the sex life he's been having without me.
The ones where he emails me from his phone when he thinks he's seen me in public.
The ones where he mentions, ominously, about shit imaginary people are saying about me behind my back, to what, make me paranoid?
I don't fucking deserve any of that.
I told Michelle about this, because I can tell Michelle fucking anything, and she said out loud what I'd been afraid of: "Morgan, that's terrifying."
Then she got all paranoid that he was, like, parked outside my apartment, because we were both pretty high and exhilarated from giggling furtively in the ocean at 2am.
The new boy, he asks about it sometimes, and I'm honest with him.
But if I'm being honest, I've run into the same problem with the new boy that I had with the old boy: he's a lot in love with me, and I'm just a little in love with him.
He's super and all, but he's very needy.
I've told him I need alone time as others need companionship, but he does not get it.
Last night, I told him, "This is one of those alone time days."
So he texted me several times, called me once that night, and then first thing in the morning.
We met for a drink after my personal day turned into a sojourn to the library and the farmer's market for some Autumn Spice grapes, which I'm currently eating for dinner.
I said I might come over after he has his work dinner, and he said, "I'm glad you said something. I didn't want to be clingy."
"Clingy?" I said. "Why would that be clingy?"
"That's what you said this morning."
I laughed, loudly. I was one hot toddy in before we'd started taste testing Irish whiskeys.
"Well," I said, trying desperately to think of something that would make him feel better, "I hope you didn't take it personally."