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They didn’t call the police. But who knew if they alerted Shane.
They had Mom’s license plate. And a description of me. I was quite helpfully wearing myTalk Dirty To Meshirt, which Shane had seen me in like a week ago.
So stupid.
For all I knew, they’d caught images or video of me on some hidden security cams. The more I thought about it, they probably had the whole thing recorded.
I died of humiliation so many times that afternoon as I agonized over it, I knew I had to come clean with Shane or it was gonna torture me.
What a loser.
You just stalked him and he probably already knows it.
I’d already lost an entire day of my life to this madness. By the time ten o’clock rolled around I was urging myself to just go the hell to bed. But instead, I messaged someone I deeply trusted for help.
Me:Do you happen to have Shane’s number? Please, please don’t ask me why I need it.
Within a few minutes, as I was staring at my phone awaiting a reply, it came.
Danica:Hey, sweetie. Sorry, I don’t have it.
Me:Can you please do something for me? Can you get it? But NOT from anyone in the fam. It has to be from someone who doesn’t know me. And you can’t tell them it’s for me.
I didn’t want her to worry about me, but I was paranoid about my family gleaning that there was anything going on between me and Shane. It was bad enough that he railed me the other night because I went to him for sex. Now I was legit stalking him. The situation was getting pathetic.
Me. I was getting pathetic.
Danica:Okay. Let me think…
Danica:Talia works for the band. We’re friendly. I can ask her.
When she said “the band,” I knew she meant Ashley and Matt’s band, the Players. The three dots appeared as she typed another message.
Danica:Her husband Lex is buds with Shane. Let me just reach out to her.
Me:She won’t know it’s for me?
Danica:I’ll tell her it’s for top secret lady business. She’s cool.
While I waited for Danica to come through like I knew she would, I wrote up a questionnaire for Shane. Because that was the level of my ability to communicate with men.
A fuckingquestionnaire.
I knew it was fucking ridiculous but I was a mess over here.
I used the template from the one I’d sent my mom earlier this week with questions about her wedding design preferences. I just wiped it clean and populated it with questions forhim.
Then Danica messaged me back, sending me Shane’s phone number, like the heroine she was.
Danica:Use it wisely.
Me:Thank you. You are the absolute best.
Danica:Women are magic. Are you okay? That’s all I’m gonna ask.
Me:I’m fine. (big smile emoji)
That smile was a lie, but hey, I was spiraling. I couldn’t be expected to behave rationally during a spiral. Danica would understand.
