Maybe it's me...

Some days...hell, most days, I feel that I am wearing some sort sign that says "Are you crazy? If so, holla!"

Case in point: tonight after an evening of drinks, political and workplace discussions with smart, funny people, I am driving home. Driving, in my car...minding my own business.

At a red light, I hear a honk. I ignore it. I hear another honk. So I look over...there's a guy, in a Cadillac Escalade, trying to get my attention. I immediately look away. The very fact that he drives an environment destroying, gas guzzling tacky-mobile is a turn off. Never mind that it is 2 a.m. and he is trying to flag down a woman driving alone. Crazy.

When the light turns green, I continue on my way. After about two minutes, I notice he is following me. He changes lanes when I change lanes and turns when I turn. I ended up driving past my home TWICE cuz he wouldn't let up. During this "chase" he continues to yell through his open window "I just wanna to talk to you."

I finally end up pulling over, just in front of a cop car that had stopped another vehicle. I figure the guy wasn't gonna let up, I didn't want to go into my place with him sitting out there, knowing where I lived, so I'd get it over with, hoping the boys in blue would come to my aid if I needed it. **Note: I was NOT going to go to said cops to tell them I was being followed. I didn't want to draw attention to myself. Even when you are asking for help, cops want to run your plates and ish. I don't trust cops like THAT. End note.***

I'm pulled over, hazards on. He comes up to my car. He's short. And he looks old. He's wearing jeans. A printed Rocawear shirt. A baseball cap. A long chain with a large diamond cross. A watch with a diamond crusted bezel. And a diamond pinky ring. I use the word diamond loosely.

I ask him what he wants and tell him that it's 2 a.m. and I don't talk to strangers on the street. He says that he saw my "pretty eyes" and just wanted to get to know me. Get to know me? By chasing down my car???

He first introduces himself as Michael. Two seconds later, he says his name is Sylvester but people call him Sly. Unable to resist, I say "but you said your name was Michael". He says that's what people call me. Being stupid I ask if it's his middle name. He says "no. My mom has just called me Michael since I was a kid." I was already through, but I was too through at that point.

Putting my car into drive, I attempt to pull off but he's leaning in the window at this point, chatting his ass off oblivious to the death stare I am giving him. I was literally willing him to die. Where are those damn magic powers when you need them?

He says he wants to take me to dinner, tells me he's 37 (the negro looked 45 or older) and that he's an investment banker with no kids and likes the theatre, comedy shows and travel.

I thank him for his resume and tell him I need to go. He won't move until I give him a number so I give him a fake one, tell him to call me tomorrow and "yeah. I'd love dinner." I figured playing along would get me to my house without him pulling up behind me.

He takes the fake number and thanks me for my time, promising we'll have fun.

I pull off and wonder...what is it about ME that attracts these ignant mo fos? This is NOT the first time this has happened to me.

Why would ANY man think this is an acceptable way to approach women?

How do I get rid of the "I love crazies" sign that is posted to my forehead?


Man=0, Cat = 123,590,212