You have been calling me every freakin' day since, sometimes two or three times. Now, here's a clue for YOU: the fact that I don't answer when I see your number on my Caller ID means something! You don't impress me with your detailed knowledge of Star Trek trivia, nor with your extensive accomplishments in the Society for Creative Anachronism. And showing up at 7 a.m. with breakfast isn't romantic, pal, it's CREEPY!
Face reality: you are neither Spock nor Hamlet. You're a 31-year-old who still lives with Mom, whose best friends are in their early teens, and who has never had a job and never expects to have one. And if you park outside my house with flowers again I might call the cops.