Hello, Newman

Argh. I feel like I’m living in an episode of “Seinfeld.”

I took someone’s advice and decided to hold my ground with Steve. I e-mailed him the following message today:

Hi Steve,

Thanks for calling. I prefer to send you the money. I think that will be less of a hassle all around. I send checks through the mail all the time, and they always reach their destination. I’ll send you a money order, though I might need your last name (unless I can make it out to cash). Or I’ll send cash, secured wrapped in an envelope so that nobody will see what’s inside. Whatever you prefer. I can send it to your work address or even to a P.O. box if you want. Just let me know.

— [me]

This evening he called me, saying that he really preferred not to give out his address. I guess I can understand that, although I wasn’t planning to stalk him. He didn’t want to give out his work address, either… and I didn’t want to give in. I was being stubborn. It’s hard to figure out how you’re supposed to act when your father has raised you to believe that you’re both too stubborn and too much of a pushover. I felt like whatever I would have decided, it would have been the wrong choice. Anyway, I kept holding my ground. (Note: this happened over the course of two or three short phone conversations, because the line kept shutting down — the long distance thing again.) To be honest, I think the situation had gotten so absurdly unpleasant by this point that I was just too embarrassed to meet him in person. Then I started to get annoyed, and my tone got brusque. But then, he said to me:

“You’re a despicable person… you’re just a despicable person.”

Excuse me?

I responded — calmly, I hope — “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re just a despicable person.”

“How can you say that if you barely know me… we’ve interacted for a total of like five minutes.”

Then the phone cut out again. Comical? Maybe.

And then I started to feel bad. Was I being too stubborn? Was I being a jerk? Or was he? Was he just manipulating me? I know I’m not a despicable person, but it still stung. I’m way too thin-skinned. Anyway, I thought it over for a few minutes, and then I called him back, and the line was busy. So I called his voicemail, and in a very no-frills tone I asked him to meet me tomorrow evening at 6:30 at a particular street corner (since I have to be somewhere right afterwards, I’ll have an excuse not to linger), and that if this was fine with him, he didn’t have to call back. Instead he sent me an e-mail, just as no-frills, agreeing.

So tomorrow this ridiculous situation will be over. How did this happen? In trying to get out of an unappealing date, I’ve wound up in a hostile interaction. It’s like Clinton — if he had just settled the Paula Jones suit in the first place, he never would have been impeached.

OK, it’s not a great analogy, but it works.

Anyway, this still feels like something George Costanza would have gotten himself into.