Let me set the scene: The year is 2010. Picture me working on King’s Road as a Manager in a retail store. My shift is over and I walk down towards my bus stop to wait for the 49 bus home.
The bus pulls up, doors open, I head upstairs away from the breeze and sit in the middle on the top deck.
Headphones in and blaring whatever music was popular at the time, I sit there in a world of my own. – All of a sudden, I am being tapped on the shoulder. I turn my head and see this buffoon trying to talk to me when I clearly have my headphones in. WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU WANT?
He starts talking to me and asking me what I do and what am I doing in this part of town. How about none of your business!
He goes on and on and on and ends up asking for my number. At this point in the year, I have 2 phones. A brand new pretty iPhone 3GS and a shitty Blackberry that is on its way out.
Me, being the non-bolshie lady that I am now, I give him the Blackberry number just to get rid of him. –But whilst he is punching my number into his phone, I see that his nails are long. TOO LONG for any male human being to walk around on this earth with. EW!
Well obviously giving him my BB number was a mistake. He actually messaged me a couple of times. I didn’t respond. – That was easy.
A year later, I get upgraded on the BB to an iPhone 4 and someone called “Omar” messages me on WhatsApp. – Who the fuck is Omar?!
I of course advised so called stranger that I do not know an Omar. Bless the little idiot, he tries to convince me that I do know him. The only Omar that I know is Omar Little and you my little fool, are not him. -But I was in no mood to entertain the dirty nailed loser and promptly blocked his number.
If i was a cartoon, yeah. This’d be me. (No relevance to this post btw)
Re-set the scene: The year is 2013, no longer on the Kings Road but in a nice little Head Office in the West of London. I am sitting here with my iPhone 4s, having a good old frustrating time trying to get 3 stars on levels 33, 50 and 65 on Candy Crush and a message comes through on WhatsApp, from OMAR.
Seriously, what the fuck does a girl have to do to make sure that some long nailed creep that pestered me on a BUS, to leave me alone and doesn’t spend 3 fucking years trying to convince me that I know him!?!?!?
Please see below for the type of bullshit that comes from this, Omar. [The messages are shown in image format, so make sure you're on a device that shows the pictures!]
Right, so you’ve read what Omar had to say. Let me provide you with my commentary:
“you alright babe , its omar u how you doing long time b” – EXCUSE ME? Do not call me “B”. I am not Beyoncé nor am I black and yellow and produce honey.
Do not refer to me as “babe”, I don’t know you, nor do I want to know you.
Structure, please. Beginning, middle and end. Your sentence is all over the shop!
Also, when spelling your name, please use a capital letter.
Oh yes, sort your spacing out. Anyone would think you had an old school Blackberry or a flip phone Motorola.
“I met you ages nw , I met u in streatham” -I’m easily irritated, so Omar, decide whether you want to use “u” or “you”.
I met you ages now? What the fuck does that even mean?
Streatham? What on earth would I be doing in Streatham? It was actually Kings Road, you moron, but I suppose you can’t keep a list of all the ladies you chat up on the 49 bus.
“I didn’t phone u in ages” – Really? I didn’t phone you in ages? Apart from the disgusting use of the English language, you’ve never phoned me. How do I know? Because I would never have answered the phone to you. Gross.
“Your somn else” – I can’t take it anymore! I just can’t! What Omar meant to say was “You’re something else” – Now once read in clear English, how the fuck is this illiterate Motorola user telling me I am something else? Get. The. Fuck. Out.
I am here, repeating myself over and over again. I don’t know how else I could say that I am NOT INTERESTED, yet this guy is still trying to talk to me in bastard English and has a “loool” for my every response.
His last lol was the lol that broke the camel’s back. WHY ARE YOU LOL’ING?! You aren’t laughing. You can’t possibly be laughing when I am writing to you, explaining that I don’t know who you are, I don’t care who you are and I would like you to delete my number! Stupid, stupid
I could see “typing” and I knew that I would lose my cool if I saw one more bit of text from this guy. So block, block and block. Just in time for me to never read a message from Omar again.
I think the next time I get a new phone, I will ask for a new number.
On a lighter note, Tuesday night will see me attending one of those dating website events. A Diary of a D post of course will make it’s way online. Let’s just hope that there is something interesting to write about! – We all love an akward situation when Melanie is on the loose!