Summer Lovin'

Story Sent in by Constance:

In the midst of my date at a bar with Ron, he asked me if I had ever attended summer camp at Camp Niwaki. "Because," as he explained, "You look like a girl I hooked up with, there."

I assured him that I had never attended Camp Niwaki nor hooked up with him.

As the evening wore on and Ron drank more, though, he became convinced. "Yeah, you're her," he said between laughter, "You were a great piece, let me tell you."

I realized that that was my cue to leave. I settled my tab, told Ron that it was nice to meet him, and left.

A day later, he called me up, sounding drunk as anything. "Let's recapture the magic of that special night," he said, "Let's go to Camp Niwaki one last time tonight and have some midnight magic."

"No thanks," I told him, "But good luck to you."

He said, "I'll be there tonight. Don't disappoint Daddy."

I said, "I won't be there, but best of luck. Goodbye."

When I woke up the next morning, I found that I had missed quite a few calls from him. His voicemails, varying between threatening, desperate, and pathetic, were all some variant of, "I'm here. At the spot. I thought you'd remember. Where are you? I miss you and want you back in my life. Get here now and I won't have to hunt you down. I'm at Camp Niwaki. At our place. Come on."

He never hunted me down, and after ignoring him for a little while longer, I'm sure he sobered up and realized that he was acting like an idiot. Or else he fell into some ditch at Camp Niwaki. Either way, I hope he's well.