The Stalker Chronicles, Part III

So last week I mentioned my reunion with Frenchie, a rather Groundhog Day-like experience in that it was a repeat of the exact circumstances in which we met, which he apparently does not remember. To add to this bizarre turn of events is the following text message exchange I had today with my co-worker:

Her: Do you remember one time we were walking somewhere and a random French guy started talking to you?
Me: I have a French stalker, but not sure it's the same person. Why?
Her: Someone just started texting me named [intentionally omitted]? Claiming we met in Dupont. He described me as "sweet" and "nice". Doesn't sound like me. [Editor's note: she is indeed neither sweet, nor nice, and is in fact a self-described Big Angry Black Woman.]
Me: OMG! That is him!!!! How does he have your number???
Her: I. Don't. Know.
Me: Wait. Remember when I made you call that random number for me? What's the number??
Her: 202-257-2340 [Intentionally included--take that Stalker!]. That must be how he got it. What an odd ball.
Me: That's him!!! What a psycho!!
Her: He asked me to meet him for coffee in Adams Morgan.

So apparently the freak who can't remember me also can't keep my phone number straight. Which is why he deserves the Ultimate Stalker Retribution: a rendez-vous with the Big Angry Black Woman when he's expecting me instead.