A creepy ex-colleague freak is stalking me! What started as a cute crush has progressed through several shades of weird to achieve full-fledged stalker status. He actually got fired because he spent so much time groveling at my cubicle instead of working. I gently (then increasingly more firmly) rejected his affections, but nothing deterred him. That day he waited at my car after work to tell me he didn’t care about being fired – all that mattered was our love.
Now he’s everywhere I go, constantly following me. I’ve even caught him sitting in his car outside my house in the middle of the night. When he dares to approach me, he tells me he loves me and he wants us to be together. I tell him I’m not interested, but he won’t stop. I’m freaking out! I don’t know how much longer he’ll accept my rejections before he does something drastic or violent. How can I escape my stalker?
Dear Sally Stalked-A-Lot,
Stalkers suck! They disrupt and endanger your life, scare you stupid, and claim to “love” you. As if these freaks know what love is! You’re in great danger, but luckily I am an experienced stalking victim. Perhaps my experiences will help you.
I’m not exactly a lady-killer, but in college a creepy chick stalked me for several weeks. I would have encouraged it if she was attractive, but she was a hulking mannish girl with big rough hands and razor burns on her neck. Gross!
She was apparently smitten by my charms when we innocently paired up for an assignment. Then one night I left my dorm room to find her bulky body blocking the doorframe; she was leaving a love note on my message board. Another time she was waiting to say hi as I emerged from a fifteen-minute poop in a public restroom. Wherever I was, she seemed to be around.
Her aggressive advances scared me. I contacted Campus Police, but those bastards just laughed – they wouldn’t act unless she physically harmed me or my property. I naturally wanted to prevent physical harm, but the police are designed to react to crime rather than prevent it. I was on my own.
After weeks of mounting terror, a strategy emerged: stalk the stalker! It was a three-tiered approach: make her uncomfortable, make her think I was crazy, and ultimately strike fear into her heart. First I drew crude cartoons of her performing oral sex on me and a donkey. I drew tons of cartoons on this theme and once a day slipped one under her door. The drawings made her uncomfortable, and the repetition reinforced this feeling.
Next I stole a mannequin head from the school store and wrote my stalker’s name in glitter across its forehead. I carried it everywhere in the crook of my arm. Anytime I saw her, I began making out with the disembodied mannequin head. There was no doubt in her mind that I was crazy.
I delivered the coup de grace one night when I broke into her room while she slept. I left a note and the severed mannequin head on the pillow beside to her. The note read, “Kissing a dummy is dumb. I need the real thing. Tomorrow night I’ll take your head.”
This certainly struck fear into her heart. I never saw her again. I heard she transferred to a far away school, but I don’t care what became of her. I escaped my stalker, and nobody got hurt. (At least not physically.)
My advice is to do the same with your stalker. Reverse the situation. Let him experience the discomfort of being followed. Show him you’re crazy. Then make him fear you. If you’re successful, your stalker will disappear. And you might even have fun!
Peace, Love, and Happy Stalking,