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Post-Modern Drunk: I'd Give You Everything I've Got For a Little Piece of Mind
Mix Tape Girl has stopped talking to me completely.
I have no idea why.
Seriously, I haven't done anything (that I know of) or said anything to her that I can identify as being off-putting. But nevertheless, she has ignored or otherwise avoided four voicemails, and three or four emails of varying urgency. If she's checked her "missed calls" log, she's probably seen another half-dozen or so calls in the last three weeks, and not responded. I've hit the point where I really can't do anymore, beyond calling her work and getting transfered to her--which strikes me as not the right thing--even if I get through and speak to her, I've still crossed a boundary that marks me as too obsessive and crazy.
Sigh.
More worrying is that the last time I called, it rang for about three or four rings before going to voicemail: more than it should ring if she were in a tunnel or otherwise unreachable, but not enough for it to go to voicemail naturally--which potentially indicates that she got her phone out, saw who was calling, and sent the call directly to her voicemail.
Sure. There are many excellent reason for this to happen.
Potential reasons:
- A beloved relation has died, rendering her so bereft of joy that she knows the simple invigorating act of speaking with me would fill her with such pure happiness that a) her heart might not be able to take it or b) she feels she doesn't deserve such delight during such a somber time.
- An evil uncle has taken her to his castle in upstate New York--paid for by his lucrative kiddie-porn industry--where the cellphone reception and electricity is rather dodgy, so she only gets an intermittent signal during which she attempts to call the authorities and alert them to his depredations. Unfortunatley, being wealthy and evil, all the police are under his thumb, and they turn a blind eye to her attempts to escape. He will be brought down during the next run of federal investigation, and she will return to all of us stronger, but more silent and haunted than before.
- She's suffered a head injury, rendering her unable to form new memories; she's wandering Brooklyn attempting to take revenge on those who stole her past.
- She's been kidnapped by Islamofascists intent at striking deep into the heart of the Great Satan. These Islamofascists see her as a repudiation of their ideology--a strong, intelligent, beautiful, and single woman making her way through this Fallen world--they want to hide her under a burka. These terrorists keep her under lock and key, but keep her cellphone charged, screening the calls for people who won't pay their ransom or submit to their twisted faith. These calls all get sent to voicemail--my reputation as an impoverished atheist apparently being well known amongst terrorist cells throughout the Islamofascist world. Mix Tape Girl is trying to signal to me a cry for help by how long they wait before sending my calls to voicemail. If only I were paying closer attention, I would have deciphered her pattern already; I'm not smart enough for her.
- Mix Tape Girl is irritated that I haven't yet made her famous--instead only referring to her as MTG. She wants her full identity and the glory of her presence revealed throughout the Internets. She is remaining mute until I make her as famous as she deserves to be.
- She's fallen deeply and totaly in love with someone, to the exclusion of everyone else she knew. Their love has been so overwhelming that she sees no need to remain attached to such childish things as the people she knew before during her past life.
- She's terrified after having read the things I've written on happyrobot.net, and has finally realized I'm a) neurotic, b) obsessive, c) a drunk, and d) was unable to sleep without a nightlight until the age of 13.
- She went into a private mood where she didn't want to deal with anyone at all outside of the work she had to do; coming out of this mood and that busy period, she's been slightly intimidated by the sheer number of phone calls and emails that I've left, and so she puts off responding until things have calmed down a little bit.
- I've completely invented this person unbeknownst to myself, and I've been calling a defunct number for months; my split personality has decided it's finally time to let me know the truth and deal with my psychosis.
That's about all I've got. Your guess is as good as mine.
