The Internet's Written in Ink

Story Submitted by Charles:

Cynthia and I had been out on one date already, and I was having serious second thoughts about her.  She seemed very interested in my past relationships, and asked me several personal questions.  I don't mind personal questions, but something about the ones she asked made me wonder if it was more than mere curiosity:

"How many times did you have sex with your last girlfriend?" was one such question.  A little forward for a first date.

The morning after the date, I received an e-mail from her.  It had one line:

"What the fuck?"

Attached were about two dozen screen captures of blog posts I had written from a forgotten blog that I hadn't updated in about three years.  In them, I had written information about my job, my life, and my (at the time) girlfriend.

I started a new e-mail to Cynthia, one in which I planned to explain, line by line, what I had written back then.

Then, I stopped myself.  What business was it of hers?  Who the hell was she?  I wrote back the single line:

"What about it?"

She called me up, the first words out of her mouth were, "We have a lot to talk about, so I hope you have your day free."

I replied, "I'm not going to be talking about this all day with you.  Those are entries from years ago, and I shouldn't have to explain myself."

She said, "You wrote that you loved her!  What am I supposed to think?"

"That I loved her.  'Loved' is a past-tense word."

"But if she came back into your life, you'd sleep with her."

I didn't say anything.  She continued, "And your lack of response proves it."

I ended the conversation: "My lack of response proves that, at my age, I'm still capable of being shocked into silence by a delusional bitch."

I hung up on her.  She called and called and called and called, but I never picked up, responded to her e-mails, or texted her ever again.

After eight months, she figured it out, and I don't hear from her anymore.