Two part post, it's been a while since I've done one of these!
I am not cool or famous, and my writing hasn't quite gotten to the point yet where I expect people to be shady for no reason. Needless to say in the last few months, I learned a hard lesson that you do NOT accept everyone's friendship request no matter how many times they add you or how many friends you have in common. That's not to say the athletes I chat to on there should follow the same advice though ;)
Long ago, before asshole baseball player ever wrecked by life with his love for Atlas Shrugged and inability to be emotionally empathetic, I was messing around with a guy on the Flyers. Don't hate me, I'm a Canucks fan anyway. Philly ain't a far trip and with a few Terps living down that way, plus scheduling, it was a decent trip all the time. No strings, just fun. I'll let you assholes take a million guesses on names.
Anyway, about the same time last year, a girl who ironically lived right outside Philly began messaging my blog, detailing how my hockey stories really resonated with her and she felt like she was reading her own life story. Awesome! Love that people can relate to the blog. She even mentioned at one point having hooked up with a hockey player she had assume I had hooked up with years ago. Mildly creepy in comparison, but okay, sure! Fan! Reader! I'll take it!
After things with the blogged calmed down - aka I put it on hiatus - she added me as a friend for probably the fifth time in a year. At that point, I had taken almost all pictures down of dudes I had been with, and my Facebook was so far gone with sad lyrics that corresponded to the baseball player, I wasn't concerned about anyone being outed.
She was nice enough - living on the outskirts of Philly, originally from Long Island, she now worked for the Flyers, doing what I couldn't tell you. She had just graduated from school in Boston where she had interned for the Bruins. The name dropping began immediately.
This is about the same time I picked up my Flyers relationship again post baseball asshole. It was March, baseballer was doing nothing but being a dick and apparently dating another girl, so I went back to old stomping grounds as Flyers dude was still single.
She'd see my trips to Philly posted on my Facebook and saw who I was friends with and immediately began asking about it. She'd drop stories about Flyers she had hung out with, and all I kept thinking was, "dude, this chick looks like Chunk from the fucking Goonies with a wig on. Either she has hot friends or gives the greatest blowjobs on earth". She was dropping stories about certain guys cheating, other guys dicks, parties she had gone to. But on the flip side kept saying she had a boyfriend and it was her friends who were doing the hookups, she was just enjoying tagging along. She'd occasionally ask me for advice and it got to a point where I regretted horribly accepting her friendship. Occasionally I'd let pieces of info slide, which was my own fault. You start to think the blog life is over, and you can let your guard down about who certain guys are.
The last time I was down in Philly in March, she asked me about it because I had it posted on Facebook. I kind of like, half lied through it and just gave a winky face when she asked what was up.
I had made a plan to go down to Philly again at the end of March. I was in my car on a Friday, stuck in terrible fucking traffic on 95, singing my ass off to Bon Iver (I have a little hipster in me sometimes), when I got a text.
"Are you writing about you and me on your blog?"
Now, I was lucky enough that dude didn't mind I had a blog. And since it had been defunct for so long, it wasn't even an issue between us anymore. So I was surprised, considering I hadn't written on it since January and that post was about how baseballer had no idea how badly he was hurting me, that this would be a question.
Parked on 95, I responded "no, not at all. Why?"
"Are you telling random people about it?" he asked.
"I mean, my friends know, you met two of them a few months ago but it's not like I haven't fucked around with athletes before dude, you're not on the top of their list when it comes to talking about who I've hooked up with".
Now I'm all stressed because fuck, I'm halfway to Philly and I'm staying at his apartment and if he turns around and gets spooked, I have to haul ass back to Long Island and drop my car off and my weekend plans are shot. I know dude had been seen with his ex girlfriend recently and I had a feeling that was coming into play - he was not only worried I was blogging about him, but that if he were trying to work shit out with her, it'd suddenly go south if she found out I was on my way to Philly. Fair enough.
"Why what's up?" I followed up.
"I've been getting weird texts," he wrote back.
"Okay...from who?" This should be easy enough. Call the number, do a reverse lookup, whatever, figure out who it is and it'll be fine. I knew it was none of my friends. None of my friends had his number, nor are they the type that would backstab me so obviously when I could easily check the number.
"It's not a number," he wrote back. "It's really weird."
"Forward it to me," I typed.
The text came through and I looked at it, confused. I had to wait until I got off the highway to pull over at a rest stop to actually see what the fuck it said.
"(GabbyGee) Samantha Dwayne: don't fuck Stef"
"Is that all it said?" I asked.
"There have been others like this. For the past two weeks."
"The fuck dude, why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know, I thought it was a joke."
He forwarded me another. "(GabbyGee) Samantha Dwayne : she has STDs"
"Oh what the fuck dude," I said out loud in my car. "You know that's not true".
"I know," he wrote back. "I just didn't know if you were writing about me or something".
"Look, I'l be at your place in like an hour, I can't text and drive, we'll talk then."
I was fucking livid. I can only imagine the face of "what the fuckness" I had as I drove through the incredibly narrow streets of Philly at rush hour on a Friday. Who the fuck was this bitch? Jealous ex? Jealous friend? Baseballer being an even bigger dick than usual? None wracked up mainly because none would have Flyer's number.
I pulled into the parking garage by his apartment and said hey to the doorman (so awkward that he like, "knew me" but didn't know me/probably knew every other girl this dude took home). Took the elevator up and knocked up on the door and just walked in.
"The fuck dude?" I asked, dropping my bag, arms out in total confusion.
"I don't know but I got another one," he showed me the text.
"I don't get how someone's texting your iphone without a number?"
I sat on his couch, my hands at my temples, tired from the drive and pissed off. Not even in the mood to fool around. Fuck.
"Do you know a girl named Jenny Stein?" he asked suddenly.
The name sounded super familiar. I sat for a sec.
"Holy shit," I said, looking up at him, my hand snow on my cheeks. "Yes. She like, Facebook stalked me and is obsessed with your team," I said.
"Fuck," he said.
"See the name?" he sat down next to me now and showed me the text again. Next to the "nickname" in parenthesis, the name "Samantha Dwayne" showed up. "When they first started texting me it said Jenny Stein".
"Holy shit," I said again. "Does she have your number?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "She was out with us like, months ago."
We discussed what to do. I told her how she had contacted me, some of the shit she had said about other players, what not. We checked to see if she had access to his Facebook. We Googled and figured out that she was using an app to send the texts anonymously, but being the idiot she clearly is, made the original name her ACTUAL NAME when she signed up. She must have realized the mistake a week previous and changed it to "Samantha". When he responded to he asking who she was, she kept saying "lol I told you, Samantha". The weekend went on as planned, and driving back to New York, after him having detailed all the texts she had been anonymously sending him for two weeks (most of which basically said I had an STD and not too hook up with me, how I was using him, etc.), all I could think of was the e-mail I was going send. This is how writer's think - in terms of how epic the verbal lashing they're capable of inflicting can be.