Diane And A Man

Warning: This is a long one.
Saturday was interesting, to say the least.
Walked Kimball, then went to Von's, WinCo, and the 99-Cent Store for lunch fixings. I had decided on a salad with red leaf lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, chopped eggs, and grapes, in addition to sandwiches of sour dough bread and two kinds of cheese. Of course, I had Chardonnay for Diane and Blue Moon for me.
Diane got here, as arranged, by 1:00, and we had an absolute ball. D. is very attractive, slender and youthful looking (well, she is youthful, only 76, and she's "had work" on her face).  She ate heartily and loved the lunch, modest though it was. We talked and talked over so many topics, including our cockamamie president, our backgrounds, and world affairs. She seems to me a contrast between intelligent, knowledgeable adult and hard-to-fathom adherent of superstition. For instance, neither she nor her siblings will open an old trunk left by her deceased mother because they think Dracula' body might be in it. (Geez, if it was, they could make a mint.)
Anyway, it was great fun. Diane was delighted with the clothes I gave her--and she looks a lot better in them than I do--and stayed until 3:15, when she was picked up by the van.
After that, I whisked the dishes into the dishwasher, tidied up otherwise, then left for town. That was about 4:00 and I thought I'd just walk a bit and get home in an hour and some. Little did I know I wouldn't be back until almost 8:00.
As I was walking to the bus stop, I impulsively decided to skip town and go to Oxnard to pop in on Greg, Ellen's fiance, at Whole Foods. Got the bus and asked if it stopped at The Collection. No, but you can get another bus in Oxnard that does. Okay, I got on. When we stopped, the drive pointed out the stop for the other bus and I crossed the street to wait. There was a man at the stop, who introduced himself as Bill.
Introduced himself? Just an overly friendly person, I thought. He asked my name and I said it was Marion. Thinking nothing of it, I asked if the next bus went to The Collection. Yes, he said, and he was going to The Collection, too. I wasn't suspicious, as The Collection is a huge, very heavily frequented, shopping center with all the usual suspects as stores and tenants.
Anyway, off we went on the bus, which stopped next to the Target Parking lot. Strangely, "Bill" wrote his name and number on a scrap of paper and said to call him if I ever needed anything. Weird, but I'd blend into the crowd at The Collection. I asked the driver to tell me where to get the bus back and he pointed out the stop across the wide and busy Rose Avenue. Okay, fine. I got off and so did "Bill."
However, I quickly walked away from him and to Whole Foods, where I surprised Greg--I'm always pleased to see him--and we had a nice, ten-minute visit. Walked back to Rose Avenue, crossed to the bus stop, and waited and waited for the bus to come. In about fifteen minutes, who should come walking up, but--?
Yep. He asked where I was going and I said Ventura, he said he was going there, too. At this point, I was furious and asked where he was going in Ventura. He said the Starbucks. I said there was a Starbucks right across the street. Yes, but he likes the one in Ventura better. It turned out that this wasn't even the direct bus to Ventura, but one that stopped where you could get the Ventrura one.
By the time the bus came, I was not only angry, but slightly disturbed. There was no way in the world I was going to let him ride to Ventura on the same bus with me. The cross street two blocks from me and where I get off, is Victoria Avenue, one of the major arteries in Ventura. I knew he would say--seemingly plausibly--that he was getting off where I did to go to the Starbucks there.
We were the only ones on the bus. When it stopped, "Bill" got off; I knew he would be waiting for me when the bus pulled away and I told the driver he was following me. The driver got out and saw him across the street and came back to tell me. At this point, I decided to call the police and did. I was across from a busy restaurant and they told me to wait there for officers to come. I was there about ten minutes when the Ventura bus came and stopped a few yards away.
I saw several people get on, including "Bill." I rushed over--I wasn't about to let it get away without me--and asked the driver to wait, as the man was following me, and I didn't want to go back to Ventura with him on the same bus. Driver called his supervisor, who came in a few minutes, asked
what was going on. He was very nice and while we were talking, "Bill," who had sat near the back (the bus was crowded) and had his head down, got up, walked toward the front where I was, and grinning said, "Oh, it's okay." He then sat back down!
At point, being tired and in an absolute rage, I yelled loudly at him to leave me alone, you've been following me, I called the police, and you are NOT going to be on any bus with me! Still grinning, he finally exited by the back door. I guess the poor bus driver (and the poor passengers) were as relieved as I was.
Called Ellen to tell her about it and she asked me to call again when she got home. I did, then realized I had forgotten to tell the police about the phone number he had given me. I called them from home and gave it to an officer.
Anyway, this was an incident I wouldn't want to repeat, but I honestly don't think it was evidence of some kind of mental lapse on my part. I certainly didn't show the slightest inclination that I invited his "friendliness" and at least had the presence of mind not to allow him to ride to Ventura with me.  Betty had called earlier and I called her back. By that time, it was after 8:00 and I settled down to watch 20/20 about the gruesome 1983 murder of a whole family in Chino Hills, which is ninety minutes from here--yoicks!  I actually stayed up until 10:30, but couldn't last for the end of it, went to bed, and slept soundly though the night.