I’m sure we have all had a stalker. I have been fortunate enough to have TWO in my lifetime. My first stalker became obsessed with me when I was just 12 years old. That says alot about the pedophile tendencies of my stalker as I was not like some 12 year olds. I was a flat chested, zitty, braceface with really bad hair and no clue about presenting myself in a better light. I was awkward and dorky and I probably should have been wearing deodorant. Apparently, my stalker saw something in me that was attractive to him, as he was obviously a pedophile with really bad taste.
The prank calls began. Many times they were just hang ups. Other times they were peppered with Tourette’s like dirty words. My stalker actually worked his way up to telling me what he wanted to do with my cats. That was distressing. I loved my cats and I did not understand why anyone would want to eat them. Sometimes he would ask if I was alone, other times he seemed to know I was alone. These calls continued for over 6 years. When they began, the phone company was in the middle of a major strike and they didn’t have the power to tap our phone and trace the calls. They suggested that we write down the time of the calls and what the caller was saying. He was mostly threatening to eat my cats….and talking about how much he would enjoy doing that.
Now, I didn’t engage with my stalker and his full-blown obsession with feline consumption. I generally just hung up as soon as I recognized it was him. But he was definitely leaving an impression on my very young naive mind. I was always scared in my own home, I didn’t like answering the phone and I wanted to keep all four of my cats inside at all times. But, despite my well founded fears, I continued to grow up and answer the phone.
I actually had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting my stalker, face to face one night. I know! How often does that happen? I mean, David Letterman, Jodi Foster and me. We are some super special people to attract and keep a stalker for years but then to have them break into our homes and get caught…well, that just speaks to the level of our fame and the depth of our stalker’s illness. There I was, 16 years old, slightly more attractive than I was when I was 12, but only slightly. At 16, I had half a head of bright red hair, black eyeliner and lipstick to match. My usual uniform was Converse with ripped fishnets and my mother’s black slip and my grandpa’s white tee-shirt. Good lookin, but only to a certain segment of the population. And my stalker. He was one of those people who were loyal in the most perverted sense of the word.
I was driving, as I had just passed my permit test. My mother and best friend were with me. I pulled into the driveway, noticing that there was a car parked in front of our house. I didn’t give it too much thought, our development was tiny and it wasn’t uncommon for the neighbor’s friends to park on the street. My best friend and I walked to the door and I grabbed for the door knob, but before I could reach it, the door opened. And there stood my stalker!! Shirt off, pants undone with a look of complete surprise that matched mine. He slammed the door in my face, which was not what I would have expected from my stalker of over 4 years…I mean, he had been trying to get me to let him chow down on my cats (over the phone) and here he was with a face to face opportunity to talk me into his fantasy of cat dinner and he slams the door in MY face!
My best friend and I screamed a very appropriate, high pitched, girly scream and about knocked each other over trying to escape from the door way area. I jumped back into the car and my best friend was standing at the back car door yanking on the door handle and laughing so hard she was crying. I had to reach over the backseat to unlock the door that she had so conscientiously locked just minutes before… back when we were still goofy teens who had no idea of feline eating stalkers in real life.
My mother, who had been taking her time gathering up her “stuff” into her various bags, was oblivious to what was happening. I started the car and was backing out of the driveway while my friend was still getting in the car and my mother was still attempting to get out. She had assumed that my friend and I were just being our usual silly selves with the screaming and all. I told my mother, at the top of my lungs, that there was a man in the house and we were going to the police. My mother, being very brave and slightly flakey tried to convince me to stop and go back. Her attitude was one of anger, not fear, that there was anyone in HER home that was not invited. I didn’t agree with her idea and proceeded at top speed the three blocks to the police station where I JUMPED from the car and ran to the locked door. I banged until a cop came running and I told them what just happened and they jumped in their cars, sirens blaring and raced back up the same street I had just raced down.
My mother was mad, my friend was in hysterics (laughing because that is what she did when she got nervous, she laughed and got hives) and I was scared for my cats!! Turns out my stalker had fled the scene before the cops got there, although he left me a present on my pillow before he left. Not a very thoughtful present either. Thanks to my slightly OCD mind, I remembered the first 3 letters of the licence plate of the car that was parked in front of my house!! All those hours of watching tv talk shows about what to do if you have weird situations happen to you paid off!! I was never one of those people who said “Oh THAT will never happen to ME!” I just accepted that someday I may very well need to know how to escape from a trunk, or how to identify a kidnapper or remember the licence plate of my stalker’s car!! The police tracked down his car in minutes and my friend and I had to ride in the back of the cop car to identify it. We did. They arrested the idiot and I have no recollection of what happened after that. For about 6 months the calls stopped and although I was still nervous, I finally understood that it really wasn’t all about my cats. That was both a blessing and a curse.
I left for Texas shortly there after and really never gave much more thought to my stalker. But sure as kittens turn into cats, he called when I was home on Christmas break. Now really, that is some serious stick-to-it-ness don’tcha think? At this point, I was 18 years old and I was surrounded by my friends. Three of my best guy friends took turns passing the phone around and completely messing with my stalker’s mind. This must have coincided with my stalker realizing I had outgrown my fear of him and that I had also outgrown his particular age group of girls he considered fit to stalk. I don’t believe I have heard a peep from him since.
Oh the many lessons that my stalker taught me. I can’t say he was harmless, the damage he did isn’t visible (at least not after we fixed the bathroom window he broke in to and got rid of the “present” he left on my pillow). But I learned alot from having a stalker at such a young age. The different meanings words can have, how not to respond when the phone rings, and that if I can remember every licence plate number I ever see then I will always have a way to identify the bad guys. All of these lessons have served me well later in life believe it or not. And I didn’t even know they would. Be prepared is a good motto if you find yourself in a stalker situation. And for any future stalkers out there, please remember that “I want to eat your pussy” has different meanings to different people.