Stalkers need love too

We women complain about men. How they suck. How they're dogs. How they lie, cheat and steal our hearts.

This is all true.

However, I dare add that women can get crazy too. Present bloggers/readers excluded of course.

A guy I know happened to mention his stalker. Now, I am prone to the dramatic and throw around the word "stalker" glibly, like if a guy calls me more than three times in one week, I'm like, "whoa stalker." This of course is not to trivialize real stalkers out there. I am prone to exaggeration.

Anyway, this guy mentioned his stalker.

"Wait, a stalker, you had a real stalker?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"What happened??" I asked.

He told me he met a girl, Ms. S, they went on a date, and it went okay. The date ended cordially, yet the guy realized he just wasn't feeling it. Within 10 hours of the date, she calls him and leaves a voicemail message. Like 90% of the country, he has a life, so he is unable to call her back within ten minutes. She then emails him and asks him in her email, "Did you get my voicemail message? Just making sure you got my voicemail message. I had a great time, in case you didn't get my voicemail message." Then she called him again and left another voicemail message. Then she called again.

Whatever ounce of potential affection he had for her shriveled into nothing. He called her back and said something to the effect of "I really enjoyed meeting you. You're cool, yet I don't see this being anything more than a friendship."

She heartily agreed and said "Oh sure, sure. Definitely, great!"

Then she called him the next day. He was busy. She left a voicemail. Two hours after her first voicemail, she called again and left another voicemail. One hour after that, she called again and left a message with the receptionist.

That was Monday.

Tuesday. 10 AM, she called his work number. 1:30 PM, she called his cell. 3:45 PM she called his work number again. The guy asked the receptionist to please screen his calls. The receptionist complied.

Wednesday, the guy got a phone call from the front desk. "Ms. S is here to see you."

The guy was stunned. Ms. S? Ms. Stalker was here? At his office? At his JOB?

Ms. S apparently looked up the guy's full name on the internet, found out where he worked, found out his work number, and found out his work address. She then traveled during the work day to his office, took the elevator to the 39th floor, and stood in front of the receptionist to ask for the guy.

The guy came out to greet his stalker. Ms. S stood there, smiling, expectant, beaming. In her arms she held a vase. In the vase were twenty to thirty species of flowers.

"Ms. S," the guy said, "Wow, what are you doing here?"

"Hi!" she said. "I just happened to be in the neighborhood and I had these flowers and I just wanted to give you some!"

The guy forced a smile. "Oh wow, that's so--"

don't say creepy don't say psycho say something nice say 'nice'

--nice!"

Ms. S beamed as she handed the guy her bright pungent flowers.

He took them and held them and looked at her. "Thank you," he said.

She stood there, smiling uncontrollably. He tried to smile back. "Thank you," he repeated.

"Well aren't you going to show me around?" she lilted to him.

"Uh, sure," he said.

They walked around the office. She showed him his office. She ooh-ed and ah-ed over his leather chair and shiny desk and autographed baseball. Then he showed her out.

"It was really nice seeing you again!" she chirped maniacally.

"Yes, it was..." he replied.

That was Wednesday. Thursday, 11:00 AM she called his cell. 11:30 AM she called his office. 12:00 she called his office. 1:00 she called his office. Ms. S began to suspect she was getting screened. Since she had spoken to the receptionist so much more than the guy, she became all chatty with the receptionist. "Say," she said to the receptionist, "would you mind not telling him that I'm calling whenever I call?" The receptionist knew what was going on but lied nonetheless through her sweet teeth, "Sure."

2:00 she called. 3:40 she called. 4:00 she called.

Friday, the receptionist was not in. The phone rang directly at the guy's desk. The guy picked up. "Hello?" he said.

"Hi there, it's me, Ms. S!"

Shit motherfucking shit, the guy thought to himself. "Ms. S. Hi."

"How are you?" she asked excitedly.

"Ms. S. I don't even call people I like every day. You have been calling me at least three times a day."

"No I haven't, what are you talking about?" Ms. S asked.

"Let's see, you called me seven times yesterday."

Ms. S was silent. "She told you?" She being the receptionist.

"Yes, she told me."

"Oh dear," Ms. S said awkwardly.

"Look, I don't think this friendship is working out," he added.

"Oh," Ms. S replied, defeated.

"Goodbye."

"Bye."

Ms. S got caught in a lie. Thought she could get away with it. Her true psychotic behavior was revealed and, mortified, she never contacted the guy ever again. The problem he fretted over so much solved itself.

On behalf of females, I was embarrassed. So these are the psycho girls that I hear guys occasionally refer to. I can see why some guys are hesitant about dating some girls. I mean, geez, I get obsessive over guys in that does-he-or-doesn't-he-like-me way, but I'd never call a guy ten times a day, stalk him on the internet, call him on his work number when he never gave it to me, show up at his office unannounced and then ask his own staff to lie to him about my psychotic calls!

Dude, if a guy doesn't return my phone call, it means he doesn't like me. It sucks, but it's true. And I got better things to do with my time than sweat him. What did Ms. S think she could do? Bully him into making her like him? Think that the more she called him, the sooner he'd realize how real her feelings were and he would eventually see the light?

I am amazed that there are people out there who ascribe to the belief that they can badger/bully/pressure/suffocate a person into liking them back.

Newsflash: Psychotic behavior = not attractive. But I suppose stalkers need love too.