People tweet at me all the time; sometimes even on purpose. I don’t know what it is about my name, but I get a disproportionate amount of people mistaking me for someone else – an entire legion of recovering alcoholics think I am one of them, all of Thailand thinks I am some sort of bible show host, and now some kid thinks I ate lunch with him in San Diego:
I am pretty sure I was not in California last week, but what do I know. I could have ignored the tweet – I usually do – but this time I was curious as to whether or not I had a good time, so I asked him if I had fun.
Apparently, that was creepy of me:
Yeah, the kid took a screenshot of my reply on Twitter, then Instagram’d his dismay that this creeper actually responded to him.
I really want to have some fun with him, but he’s actually right – he didn’t use my name in his post, so the very act of my finding his Instagram of my tweeted reply meant I had to manually look him up to check out his photo stream.
And that’s kind of creepy.
So, yes. I am a creeper. If you tweet at me thinking I am someone else, or if character limits chop off your friend’s Twitter/Instagram name and you end up with me instead, I will reply. And then I will Instagram your Instagram of my reply to your tweeted Instagram.
I’ve seen how deep the rabbit hole goes.