  Mr. Pink was a gentleman I dated for quite some time over the course of a handfull of years. He most recently disappeared from sight after marrying some local chick who resembled Jay Leno. I do not lie here folks. I saw her picture in the paper, without any encouragement whatsoever, 3 people pointed that out to me! So, Mr.
Pink had been MIA from my sight for quite sometime. I'd occasionally see him here or there in town on my lunch break. Once while sitting out front of my office building, he actually pulled into the lot! Seems his job requirements are to fix existing phone issues area residents may be having. Being totally stunned by seeing him I figured it to be a freak encounter. eh, I was off a bit.
I've been seeing Mr. Pink more often driving around town. Most recent was tonight. While pumping gas I hear: Whoooo Weee lookie har! "Oh good gosh A'mighty" I say outloud. Seeing Mr.
Pink in town is no big deal. It's usually in passing, with a freindly hand wave. But when he starts to stop and talk, my radar goes up. I know alot of people, alot of people know me, they know about Mr. Pink & I, and they know our present states. I hate when he stops to talk.
Ab-so-lutely HATE it. He got out of his big, gianormous , electric blue Dode 4x4 screaming 5 pumps down from me: " Oh my Lawd, look who we have here! Ms. Trixie M in the flesh! Lookin' mighty fine girl! " Ugh. I thought I'd puke right there.
Mind you I'm wearing cut off sweats, an old Skateboard tshirt of mine, & flip flops. This maniac has the audasity to say: " God dang, you are still as beautiful as the day I threw yo' ass out of our place! " I'm ignoring him at this point. And had begun a conversation with my son in the backseat. "Momma, who is that crazy guy talkin' to you? " he says.
"Oh, I don't know sweetheart. Some folks are just sick in the head and they talk to anyone. Don't forget that either. " Mr. Pink keeps getting closer and closer to me. I'm thinkin' about that can of mase in my glove box, screaming FIRE when he gets next to me, or even spitting in his face.
I do none of the above. I instead act like the most perfect, polite Southern Belle you'd ever had Mint Julip Tea with. "Why Mr. Pink! How the hell are you! I see that you've been eating well!
Bless your heart, that new woman of yours must know how to only cook meat and potatoes! " "Aww c'mon Trixie, ain't no need to be a wench. You know it was now or never, and since you didn't wanna marry me, I picked her. " he says. What? That jerk off threw ALL of my belongings out in our apartment complex parking lot.
In the middle of the night! I come home from work to find him in a not so nice position with my ex roommate, her furniture moved in place of his, and my stuff all over the place. When did he ever talk of marrying me? Pfft. Maybe to his folks, or to Festis, never to me that's fo' sho'. Well anyway, I finished off the conversation as quickly as possible.
I drag my son by the arm into the store, forgetting to buy half the nessecities I need, and bolting outta there. As I'm cranking the key to my car I look over and see him glaring at me. Uh huh. I see how this is. Two can play this game. And I secretly wish I lived in Seattle, Tijuiana, Minneapolis or even Nova Scotia.
That bastard. 
