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QotD: Stalkers

Question: Have you ever had a stalker? Been one?

My Answer: No, and no. Though I have liked and been liked quite a bit. Far from stalker levels, though. Thank goodness.

You are encouraged to answer the Question of the Day for yourself in the comments or on your blog.

6 Responses to "QotD: Stalkers"

  1. Unfortunately I have had one. Not so much as stalker as a little crazy. I mean, no sitting outside of door (or I didn't notice anyway) type of stuff.

  2. A couple of roommates had more of a weirdo than a stalker but it was borderline. She was bipolar, called a lot, then she figured out where we lived, and so she started coming around. Knocking on the door and coming around to the sliding glass door (we were on the first floor). They didn't have cars so she came to associate my car as being one of theirs so when I was home one of them. After the second time she went around to the patio and knocked. it became a favorite game to go around back and knock on the sliding glass door to freak out whoever was home. Once I thought I would outsmart the "trickster," and it turned out to really be her. Anyways after a couple of weeks it went from weird to scarier and scarier. The messages she left started getting sexual and threatening so my room mates finally called the cops. Thankfully that was all it took to get her out of our life.

  3. Every-time I hear someone getting a G5, I get an inexplicable urge πŸ˜‰

  4. Ohhhhhhh HELL yeah. Nice girl. Razor sharp, ridiculously funny as hell, a complete cutie and an insatiable nymphomaniac.

    Yeah, that last one should have tipped me off.

    I soon found out that she was sexually abused by her step-father as a child. Repeatedly. For years. And her mom knew and did nothing about it. Sick sick fucking sick.

    Of course, later in life, she "eased" that pain, by making sex her tool. Her weapon. She was taking back what was taken from her at a young age.

    I was the first guy she ever told.

    Because I listened, understood and comforted her, she became to rely on me as her personal psychologist. As her reliance grew, she became jealous at the drop of a hat. If I so much as TALKED to another girl, she would throw a fit. I don't do jealousy. I simply will not be in a relationship with someone who is jealous.

    So, I broke up with her.

    She understood and realized that it wasn't good for either of us. Until nighttime came of course... When she got home from work, she would start drinking whiskey. As the night went on and she grew drunker, a huge anger would rise up within her. She would call me up on the phone and say the most horrible, hurtful things. This girl I really cared for, felt bad for and never wanted to hurt, would say things to me that I never deserved for a moment.

    She'd call me thirty of forty times a night. If I didn't pick up my phone, she would talk into my voicemail until it hung up on her. Then she'd call back and continue her monologue.

    The next day, she would apologize -- completely embarrassed and ashamed -- promising to me and herself that she wouldn't drink anymore.

    That promise lasted until about 5:30pm every day. This cycle went on and on for weeks. When I started not returning any of her calls, she came to the house. She would sit across the street in her car and watch my windows. When I would see her outside, she would start the car, and race off while screaming obsceneties at me.

    If that wasn't bad enough, one night I was working on the computer. I had the window open and my back to it. I heard a flick of a lighter and turned around to see her sitting on my third-floor fire escape landing. As soon as I saw her, I started screaming and ran towards the window. She scurried up the ladder and disappeared across the roof.

    She threatened to have me beaten and killed. She called my friends and tried to tell them about "the real me". She called my parents and told them that I was hooked on heroin (never touched the stuff). It was mad.

    And for months, this 5'3" demon had me looking over my shoulder and scanning the streets ahead of me. Everytiime I would turn a corner or walk into a bar, I envisioned seeing her standing in front of me with a gun in her hand.

    The psychology of stalking is a truly fucked up thing.

    Unfortunately, her piece de resistance was telling someone I cared for very very much, something which I had told psycho in confidence. It was something that would hurt this person a great deal if they ever found out. It was the thing I am most ashamed of in my life. It's the only time I have really ever truly wronged someone. And something that, if it never came to light, would not hurt them going forward.

    There was no reason for her to drag this person into it. In order to hurt me, she hurt someone who had never done anything to her. A complete innocent.

    After that, it all just stopped like someone scratching the needle off of a record. I never heard from her again.

    If you look at my site, you'll see a fairly large gap of about a year and a half in the archives. That does NOT mean I wasn't writing then. In fact, I was writing more than ever, but those archives had to be hidden at the time because of the stalking.

    Only in March of 2002 did I feel comfortable with being public again. I still haven't brought those archives back to life for fear that the things I wrote may incite her back to stalking. It's ridiculous of course since I haven't even heard from her in over two years, but that's what a stalker does to your psyche.

    So how's that for a story? (Notice I posted this in YOUR comments, Erik, and not on my own site... Gee, wonder why? πŸ™‚

  5. Yup, but she's pretty cute, so I don't mind that much. πŸ˜›

  6. No, but I've used it as a pickup line πŸ™‚

    She: "Gee, we keep running into each other!"

    Me: "Well, dear, that's because I'm stalking you"

    Usually get a laugh, but it's never been really successful... wonder why...


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