The chase is way, way off.

Somehow, I've unwittingly gotten tangled up in an acquaintance's personal reenactment of Fatal Attraction. And I have a feeling that in her particular universe, I'm an expendable character likely to meet her demise in a uniquely painful fashion.

This person, we'll call her Crazy, is hung up on her ex, a good friend of mine, to the point of creepiness. From what I gather, theirs was some sort of blurry semblance of a relationship that ended over a year ago. Whatever. I don't care, it's really none of my business. I'm not romantically involved with the object of her obsession so my involvement in this drama is totally involuntary.

Crazy befriended me several months ago in what I now realize to be some sort of twisted attempt to keep tabs on him. She's crafty, this one.

Anyway, none of this would be much of a problem for me had she gone public with her doctored version of the situation between the two of them.. and dragged me into the middle of her bullshit. She recently began writing a Sex and the City-inspired column for a local free paper that was supposed to chronicle her dating life and instead has become a pathetic homage to her defunct relationship with my friend.

Her last attempt referred to me not by name, but as "it".. though anyone who knows the three of us would be able to piece together whom "it" refers to. I quote: "I called him a few days later to see if he wanted to hang out and let's just say, he had company... and it had a vagina."

Okay, Crazy. Leave me out of your psycho fantasies about your ex, stop implying that we're sleeping together, and just quit being weird and manipulative. I thought you were funny and interesting before you involved me in this bizarre triangle and actually wanted to be your friend... now I'm afraid to let my cat go outside.