Ughhhh. The creepy cowboy guy is here again this summer, and he’s kind of fixated on me. Again.
Last summer, he was a sixteen year old counselor-in-training, who spoke with an affected cowboy drawl and had no sense of personal space. Two days after meeting him, he took me aside and said, “Ship, I’ve been looking for the perfect companion, and I think I’ve found him. It’s you.” He then told me how he wanted someone to live with him in a cabin in Alaska for a few months so that we could fly a biplane through the Northern Lights and hunt together. I obviously turned him town, as this was either the beginning to a weird porno or a slasher movie, and also because he was 16 and I’m not allowed to have any contact with him outside camp.
He’s baaaaaack. The first thing he did was find me. Serves me right, wearing the same recognizable hat. Anyway, every time he catches sight of me, he starts changing “Dark Lord Ship! Dark Lord Ship! Eater of souls!” and then laughing chummily and patting me on the back like it’s the wittiest joke in the world. “I’m never gonna let you forget that,” he says, every time.
“You and literally the entire rest of camp,” I say wearily, every time.
Last night he came up to me, gripped my shoulders, and announced that he’d be 18 soon and will be a counselor next year. “You *have* to come back. Bigfoot will be our unit director, and you will be my co. You and I! Co-counselors! Can you imagine it?!”
“I’m not sure I’ll be back next summer,” I said. “And if I am, I probably won’t be a cabin counselor.”
“No. You and I are going to be cos. Shake on it. Swear it.”
“What? No, I can’t–”
He then grabbed my arm, wrenched my hand out, and shook it violently. “There! No take backs. You’re bound by sacred honor now.”
“Physically forcing me to shake your hand isn’t honorable,” I said, trying to discreetly wipe his slime off on my jacket. “I definitely don’t think that counts.”
“It definitely does. I’ll find you if you go back on your promise. I can’t contact you on social media yet, but I can still find you!”
Great, now I’ve got a teenage cowboy with no boundaries potentially stalking me. Why am I a magnet for weird people?