No Yanky My Wanky

A year or two ago, while dabbling with eHarmony, I was matched with an Asian orphan. He was born in Japan but moved to the states sometime in his childhood. His parents passed away either before, during or immediately following college. The specifics are foggy. What I do remember is what he did for a living, the details clarified when we finally spoke on the phone.

“I’m B.D. Wong’s stunt double on Law & Order,” he proudly announced.

“So, if a character throws a chair at B.D. Wong, it’s the back of your head I see in the shot?” I asked, the duh-DUH noise from the television show echoing in my head.

“Yup. And I also stand in when they’re doing lighting checks.”

“Mm-hmm,” I said as I swallowed down my giggles.

I never let anything develop with B.D. Wong’s stunt double. Twice he called me while the Phillies were in the midst of a post-season series. Twice I told him the game was on. And twice he ignored my comment and continued to converse as if what I really said was, “Let me turn off the television so we can talk.” While I am in no way a hardcore baseball fan, a fact proven by me repeatedly calling Ryan Howard (the black first baseman) Ron Howard (Opie), I do take the post-season quite seriously.

Wonger’s stunt double also had an issue with boundaries. When I politely declined, he continued to contact me. And later, when his phone repeatedly called mine at hours reserved for vampires and delinquents, he refused to delete my number. I’d ask him to get rid of my contact information he’d propose we speak on the phone. It was all very similar to the conversations I have with my dad where I ask him where he went to dinner and he tells me who won America’s Got Talent.

Continuing on the boundary front, Faux Wong googled my email address, found this here blog and then made the mistake of thinking he actually knew me. Yes, I write openly here. Yes, strangers are invited to peer into my life. However, I had never mentioned my blog to him because I have learned it can initially create an imbalance of information. The potential creep factor was magnified when he started referencing things that he could have only known by pouring over my blog for hours on end. And according to Statcounter, he did that often.

Independent of the other, each thing I just noted would be enough to leave one unsettled. Combined, I had reason to research the Witness Protection Program. Ding Dong Wong finally got the hint when I sent a 10-word text with eight of the words being a version of fuck. First he reprimanded me for having poor manners. Then he finally fell silent. Mission accomplished, or so I thought.

This past weekend, as I scurried between commitments, I got an email from B.D. Wong’s stunt double. I didn’t realize this at first. It required searching my inbox for old emails, emails I likely held onto in case I needed evidence to support a restraining order.

True to form, he had read my blog. Truer to form, he took what he read as an invitation to personally communicate with me, as if my most recent post was a plea for him to save me from the dating scene. I set the email aside and pondered a course of action.

On the one hand, I could respond. Various brilliant and snarky comments did cross my mind. But I feared he would interpret any communication on my part as a desire to engage. And that? That wouldn’t work. Ultimately, I decided to address the matter here.

Perhaps making his ridiculousness public would send a signal. Perhaps the comments by other readers would enlighten him as to how inappropriate his behavior has been. Then again, maybe none of that would happen. If I have learned one thing in life, it is rare you get what you want.

Regardless of how he responds, the preference being not all, at least my readers had a good laugh. Or, like, all of my readers but one.