Um, No Thank You.

When Did We Become So Needy?

Courtesy of All Things D.

I am logged into Google Hangouts. I correspond with a number of my loved ones via this messaging tool. I am reviewing work, reading and re-reading things, getting a good flow going, and a message comes through:

“Hi. How are you?”

I do not know the name, cannot make out the person in the picture, so I respond the way I know to be respectful, yet letting the person know they may have the wrong lass to jump-start their conversation.

“I am sorry. I do not know you.”

I brush it off, right? That should do the trick. I am not familiar with you, never had any dealings with you, do not quite understand how you weaseled through to get to me, but hopefully that little bit nipped discourse in the bud.

It didn’t.

I think she thought I wanted to entertain her advances.

I did not.

So, without really heeding what I initially stated, she continued on…

“My name is (let’s call her Holly Go-Hardly) Holly Go-Hardly, I am 29 years old, with three kids, and I live in (let’s say, Heated Up, Wisconsin), Heated Up, Wisconsin. I would like to get to know you better.”

I am shook, right? Is this real? This has to be a robot, something not of flesh, blood, and beating heart, right? I am not too keen on letting many people in outside of my writing worlds, so immediately all sources of radars flare up, right?

I am now concerned about my email handle, one I have had for at least 8 years. I am searching for all points of “secure this” and “secure that,” but in the meantime, I let this person know they will be blocked.

“Um, that’s nice. I am going to block you now.”

And, I did.

My comfort zone is highly important to me and this person pussyfooted her way into it for some odd reason via Match.com. What? Wait? Match.com?

Hold Up, Wait A Minute.” I am not a user or consumer of Match.com, I do not want to be. I have nothing against those who are, but I am not. So, how in the day-old-bread did this person come across me? Hmm… It is so easy to get got nowadays. People or hollowed out souls that need and crave attention seep through at any point begging for open arms.

It is sad and funny and out-of-this-world unbelievable.

Whelp, Another One Bites The Dust.

I like my space, I ain’t looking to have it filled. Real. Fake. Phony. Needy. Whoever you are, booting you is a non-issue for me.

*sips coffee*