Remember that guy Deepak, the Indian
At first I thought this was all rather hilariously funny, and luckily he's in Delhi, India right? He still sends me stuff at all hours of the night, much to the bemusement of my new, um, boyfriend.
Until now. Unknown number. (His is saved under Deepak The Stalker, and it wasn't this one.) He has just got off a plane, has a new number, is standing at Joburg airport phoning me.
"I am here to form relations with a South African conglomerate about the mango industry. It's mango season in India. And I want to see you."
I was squirming. All my colleagues immediately knew what was potting, and I tried to remain business-like:
"Um...I'm Catholic. The nuns don't let me out."
"It's ok. We can read the Koran together."
I'm worried now. Being blatantly ignored has just egged him on, he is in my country, my town, and he's talking mangoes.