Fava beans and a nice Chianti

I have a stalker.

I mean, he's not really a stalker, but kinda. I don't want to blog about him too much because, let's face it, if he's a stalker worth his salt then he knows about this blog. He seems nice and harmless (isn't that what they always say in horror movies?). He calls me at the radio station about once a month and tells me what a great job I'm doing. We chat for a few minutes as he rambles about whatever story I did recently or how much he enjoys listening to me on the radio. Mostly I just say things like "oh thanks" or "that's nice" or "thanks so much for listening." After about five minutes of that, he runs out of things to say and promises to check in with me again soon.

Maybe I should tell him I "just want to be friends."