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Once Upon A Time I Had A Blog – Tales From the RV Park

Kernut the Blond Posted on by

No really, I did. The blog looked a lot like this one, except I wrote posts.

So much has happened, I don’t know where to start.

  • My best friend/lover/on-again off-again partner died. I became numb for a long time. (This was 5 years ago. I posted about it. I’m a lot less numb.)
  • My mom became very ill, and still is. (She’s been in a nursing facility for a few years now, and can’t get around on her own. It’s all very sad.)
  • Hurricane Sally hit my evacuation location (did not see that coming!). It also tore up my RV spot at the Alabama gulf coast. (I evacuated, but not far enough away… Sally came by at a CAT 1, right over my RV, and the bitch stayed there for about 24 hours.)
  • COVID hit. I got it in November, 2020, even though I was crazy-person careful. I was pissed I got it because I had been so very careful. Now? Not careful at all.
  • Zuckerburg thinks my real Facebook profile is fake and I can’t get back in no matter how many times I make live videos to show the FB reviewers my face, my passport, and driver’s license. It’s been two years. I had given up trying to regain access almost a year ago. (Fucking Zucker just approved access – after TWO YEARS – and I wasn’t even trying to get back in any more.)
  • My computer died, got a new one, and I’m trying to sort through the backed-up photos.
  • I started managing a gaming group with about 50 players of Egg, Inc. (You farm chickens and send them into space. It’s cooler than it sounds. I swear.)
  • I traveled(!!) from Alabama to Arkansas (Diamond Mines!), Kansas (Largest Ball of Twine!), Nebraska, Oklahoma, South Dakota, and back.

Still, I blogged once in a while.

I have many adventures to post someday, when I have more time.

Today’s adventure: Tales From the RV Park – Stray Cats and Wounded Men

I am at an RV park in southern Alabama. I’ve been here about a year.

There are around 100-150 people here, mostly seniors, mostly single. Lots of heavy drinkers.

As some of you may recall, I don’t drink any more.

As one of the younger (*cough, cough) people at this park, I tend to draw the single males. And most of them are drunk.

There have been FIVE creepers. Let’s recount them, shall we?

Dude #1 – Crab Guy (mid 60s, large beer gut, elevator doesn’t reach the top floor, spent all his free time crabbing when not pursuing me)

Every day when I would walk to the trash bin, I had to pass by his RV. He must’ve always seen me coming because he’d be outside. He’d immediately start up every. conversation. by asking me out to dinner. At a restaurant, or at his sister’s house, rinse and repeat. Over. and. over. I kept saying No, I’m not interested.

Still he persisted. He would show up with crabs he caught (there is a joke there, I’m sure), and try to give them to me (fill in your own joke). These crabs had seen fresher days, to be sure. They reeked. I refused. He then brought me salmon (his sister made it). Another day, more fish. I refused, hoping he’d get the hint.

He finally moved after a couple months.

Dude #2 – Neighbor’s Son (early 50s, dad bod with beer gut, doesn’t listen when you talk, retired due to military injury, bad-boy vibe)

When his mom moved in, I saw him outside and thought “he’s kinda cute”. (See reference to bad-boy-vibe above.)

And then within the FIRST FIVE MINUTES of meeting, he informs me he is only looking for a friend with benefits.

Within those five minutes, I had not declared any level of interest – I’d known him for all of five minutes, forfucksake.

He was also incredibly drunk.

And suddenly a lot less attractive. (To be clear, his “friends with benefits” declaration is what did him in, even if his completely blotto status didn’t)

I informed him I was most definitely not going to be that friend with benefits.

It took him about a month of daily visits to my door before he got the hint. (He comes to see his mom next door every single day…. Before you think “Aww, that’s sweet he’s helping his elderly mom” keep in mind she’s in good health and doesn’t need help. They just drink together.)

Dude #3 – Guy with a job (Yes, that is his nickname because he’s one of the few here who have a job. Fairly cute, around 55, big beer gut, rarely seen without a drink tumbler in his hand.)

He had more temperatures than a faucet. Seemed interested, would come by (drunk) every few evenings. Never asked me out, but did as me to “come over”. At night.

No dinner, no drinks. Just “over”.

Um, no. Just no.

Then would act like he barely knew me.

Rinse and repeat. Hot, cold, hot, cold.

I just ignore him if I see him on the property.

He finally gave up a few months ago.

Dude #4 – Guy with a job #2 (Around 60, beer gut, never seen without a beer in his hand. Ever.)

Always tries to chat me up whenever I walk past his place on the way to the trash bin. He had a nice girlfriend, but she recently kicked him to the curb.

So he turned his interest to me.

I gave him a fast “No, you drink way too much and I don’t drink at all.”

Him: “But I want to get sober.”

Me: “Go to an AA meeting.”

Him: “No. Let’s go to breakfast.”

Me: “Nope. I gotta go.”

After a few weeks, he tried to reel me in by asking about going through withdrawals. I told him to see a doctor and go to AA.

Dude #5 – Repeats everything 3 times (Big beer gut, reeks of alcohol, repeats everything – including introducing himself – three times, almost never see him outside, late 60’s.)

Right when I was in the middle of something at around 8PM, I was interrupted by a knock. I look out and see my shirtless neighbor.

“Repeats everything 3 times” guy has suddenly – after a year, mind you – noticed that I live across the row from him. He took it upon his drunk self to come to my door last night, uninvited. Obviously.

Oh, joy.

When you show up at a gal’s doorstep and said gal says she’s busy, then you offer said gal your phone number and she says “I won’t call”, and then you ask her to dinner and she says no, wouldn’t you just leave?

Yes, NORMAL guys would just leave. (But if they were normal, I might actually be interested.)

But NO, I get the single drunk males showing up on my doorstep, not taking NO for an answer.

Meanwhile, the stray cats are flocking to my door. (They, unlike the drunk men, are welcome here.)

Let’s recount, shall we?

Pyewacket “Pye” – Showed up on my doorstep in Texas as a starving and wounded kitten 11 years ago next month. She was about five months old at the time. She’s no longer skinny, and she’s in fairly good health.

“Sugar” Magnolia – Showed up on my doorstep in Alabama about six years ago as a starving, feral kitten. She is now the most codependent little baby and loves to walk on a leash.

They both live inside and are spoiled rotten.

Within the last couple months two more ferals have shown up on my doorstep: an orange tabby I named Cheddar, and a white and brown kitty I named Nutmeg. I have somewhat tamed them. (The food has probably helped that quite a bit.) Lest you think I put food out and then they show up, I assure you it is the other way around.

I’m convinced I give off a scent, far and wide, that says, “Single cat lover lives here; she will love on you and feed you. Come one, come all!”

Unfortunately, the drunk men mistake this scent to include them.

Comments

Once Upon A Time I Had A Blog – Tales From the RV Park — 9 Comments

    • Thanks, Magee! Glad to see you’re still here and reading!

      It’s good to be writing again. I hope the inspiration keeps up!

  5. Wonderful to see your stories. Oh, the Grand! I could see it all in my mind. I wish there were better outcomes. 🙂

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