I didn't think I would have to type this, but IT GETS WORSE

Reese. It's not over. Oh I know it should be over. Even you know it should be over. But it's not. It's so ridiculously far from over that it's practically just beginning. Except that I really, really hope that it's now over.

Since the angry email, a few things have happened.

1. Reese has phoned three times; no voicemail.
2. Reese has emailed to invite me to a pool party! All his friend will be there! What a good buddy!
3. Reese has not addressed the angry email before phoning or inviting me to parties.

But Wednesday, oh Wednesday, he addressed it. He addressed the hell out of it. He did a ten-gun-salute, tap dance on that mother f*#ker. (No, I don't know what that literally means, but figuratively it means that her overdid the "addressing it" thing.)

I get home from work on Wednesday and there's an envelope in the mail that isn't a bill! YAY! It's quite thick, hand-addressed! Exciting! It has no return address and the post code is some L place! Mysterious!

I open it. I see that there is a letter, and some pictures and a cheque. Intriguing! Who is sending me money? I love getting money! No here's where I'm actually pretty stupid. I don't look at the pictures or the letter, I zoom right in on the cheque, and I don't look at the name in the top left corner either. I first look at the amount - $400! - and then I look at the signature. I squint trying t make it out. And what I read is the name of a famous designer and I wonder why in the hell *they* would be sending me $400. And then my brain actually turns on.

No, I can't tell you the designer I thought sent me $400 without possibly compromising Reese's true identity/ But I can come up with something similar. So let's say Reese's last name was Lorenz. So I look at the signature on the cheque and think, "Why would Ralph Lauren send me $400?" Same initials, number of letters in the first and last name, and apparently more plausible that Ralph Lauren would send me $400 than it is the Reese Lorenz would.

So when my brain finally starts to engage, I think, "Nooooooooooooooooooooo, that couldn't..." and then I look in the top left and see that indeed the cheque is actually from Reese Lorenz. So now I'm somewhat intrigued, but mostly concerned. I look at the pictures. They aren't helping me feel better. So I go to the letter.

Page one (yes, there is more than one page): "I'm sorry about that email, it was wrong and I wish I could take it back. You didn't deserve that." (Note that these "quotes" are very loosely paraphrased.) And that was it. Oh but no. that should have been it but as you know there are more pages and both a cheque and some pictures to explain.

Page two: "Here is $400 so you'll be friends with me. Spend it however you want. I was going to buy a kayak but I am evil and don't deserve one so here, you take my kayak fund." Now, really, if I think about it, he might be paying me for the couple of times we kissed, in which case, I must be a really amazing kisser! I should definitely include that in any future online dating profiles. On the other hand, I'm only worth $400?!? WTF dude? Your house is paid off! You can remortgage that shit and pay me what I'm worth! Which actually, he could never afford.

Page three: "I know your tri-a-try is this weekend so I want to come cheer you on! But that would be weird. But I'm going to come anyway! But no, maybe that would be weird. But screw it! We're friends and a friend would be there for you! But no, it would be psychotic to show up. So instead I went to your race site and took these pictures of me holding GIANT signs cheering you on along your route so that you'll know I'm right there with you!" And that is actually the least paraphrased bit of the whole thing. Seriously. It pretty much said exactly that. He argues with himself on paper and then ended up being even creepier that he would have been if he'd shown up (though I would have been pissed, because we are *not* friends).

So after consulting a couple of friends and the women's crisis line (yes seriously because what kind of crazy person does this and should I be worried?) I package it all back up and mail it back to Reese (though not before making copies in case I need them for a future restraining order) with a delivery confirmation and a note asking him to never contact me again.

The mail was delivered on Friday, He did not (that I know of , anyway) come to my try-a-tri on Saturday. And I hope that is the last you'll ever hear of Reese.

(Also, the friends who set us up are mortified. But how were they to know he was bat-shit insane? He was their neighbour, seemed friendly, quiet and normal. Luckily, in the middle of all this setting up, they moved. Imagine the awkwardness were they still neighbours?)