It Puts the Lotion In the Basket

18 Aug

Why wont you love me??

Why won't you love me??

How do you go from “I want to be with you” to “your nipples would make a nice addition to my lampshade”?  There’s a fine line between wanting to see someone and stalking.  My question is where on God’s green earth is that line?  Having never been a stalker (at least not one with a restraining order), I’ve always been intrigued by what it is that makes someone go that extra mile and end up parked outside their target’s house peering through the blinds at 3:00 in the morning.  Sure, I’ve done the occasional drive by, the call and hang up trick (this is before the introduction of caller id, I was 12) and happened to check their gmail status to see if they were on line, but it’s never once occurred to me to plaster hundreds of pictures of someone in my closet and make a little shrine to them or carve their initials into my forearms.

I have had the misfortune, however, of being a target.  Sure at first it’s natural to feel all popular because someone so badly wants your attention.  But the creep factor starts setting in when they start asking for measurements of your back, or threaten to hose you down if you don’t put that darn lotion right back into the basket.  When it gets to the point that you’re afraid to be alone in your own home, they start following you around at work, and start harassing your friends about how you might feel, that’s a very berry bad sign.

I “dated” (and I use that term loosely) Hairy McBacksweat when I was fat and going through hard times.  We lasted for a few months, and I ended the “relationship” when I woke up from my low self esteem induced haze and realized that Hairy McBacksweatand I weren’t meant to be together.  Mainly because I had a shred of dignitity, wanted to be with someone that was smart enough to string together a sentence with more than 4 words in it, who didn’t walk around scratching his nut sack all the time, and who peed with the door closed.  I wasn’t asking for the world here, so the relationship ended.

“I love you,” he told me.  I stared at him blankly and blinked in return.  “We can work this out,” he added.  I kept staring at him blankly.  “Please.”  Another blank stare from me.  Finally, after 45 minutes of him cursing, pleading, yelling, crying and my silent responses he left-it was over, or so I thought.  Thank freaking God because I had seen a scary side to him that I’d never seen before.  There was just something that kind of snapped, and for a split second I thought he was going to strangle me.

At work the next day, he showed up at my cubicle and wanted to talk things out.  Um, we’re at work, it’s not time for talkies-it’s time for reading blogs and fooling around on the internet work.  I excused myself by telling him that I had to be in training in 5 minutes.  He walked me to the training room, asking me if he could measure my back and pleading with me the whole way.  I finally had to yell at him in the middle of the hallway to tell him there was nothing left to talk about and to leave me alone. 

Still not over.

He started visiting Foxy at work all the time.  This required that he walk right past my desk to get to hers.  Oh, that’s clever.  Hey, totally not obvious that you’re doing that to see what I might do.  And then there were talks about how he just wanted “closure” and “why won’t she love me?”.  Um, that’s not closure, pal.  Here’s what will help you, let it go.  When he wasn’t bothering Foxy, he was calling my brother-in-law to talk about his feelings and determine how their relationship would change now that he and I weren’t together.  Yeah, just what every guy wants: to talk about his feelings with some unstable dude.  So hot.  Can’t believe I let him get away.

These examples are just minor annoyances, the scary part happened when he showed up at my apartment one day.  I lived in a nice ground floor apartment while we had been seeing each other.  Thankfully, there were bars on the windows and without a key, the only way to get into the building was by being buzzed in.  I was standing right by the kitchen windowwhen the phone started ringing.  I looked at caller id, saw it was him calling and ignored the call-just as I had been doing for the last week.  He left me a voicemail, which I checked. “I know you’re in there screening your calls, I can see you.”  I stepped away from the window and immediately called my sister to come over.

Two minutes later my phone rang again, this time he was calling me from the front door wanting to be buzzed in.  I’ll never get exactly how this happened, I meant to push a button that denies the entry, but instead ended up pushing the button that grants the entry.  He was inside my building…and my front door was unlocked.  Just as I ran to lock my front door, he opened it and stepped inside.  My useless dog merely ran over to him and licked his hands.  Traitor!

“This is it,” I thought to myself.  “My sister is going to be too late.  The only thing she’ll find is my right hand and my scalp.  They’ll find other bits of me scattered around his house, and he’ll be wearing my skin as a suit.”

He insisted that he had just come over to declare a truce.  He said he thought we could remain friends.  He swore that he was finished making scenes at work, and demanding explanations from my friends.  Then he told me that he just wanted to hold me one more time before he gut me like a fish.  Okay, he didn’t actually say that last part, but I thought it was coming.  Thankfully, my sister arrived 5 minutes after he did and I was able to talk him into leaving (without him taking my nipples).

Shockingly enough, the friendship didn’t pan out.  Mainly because I started pretending like he didn’t exist when I saw him at work, never responded to any of his email/phone messages, and would stare blankly at him if he tried to talk to me in the cafeteria. 

Hairy McBacksweat is long gone now.  He’s married-to an actual living, breathing human woman.  Not to one of those real dolls (DO NOT CLICK ON THAT LINK if you’re at work, unless you want to be fired from your cushy job) like I thought he’d end up with.  I do think of him every once in awhile, and then I throw up in my throat and wonder what on earth I ever saw in him.  I’m gagging right this very second.

19 Responses to “It Puts the Lotion In the Basket”

  1. cinnkitty August 18, 2008 at 10:28 am #

    Wow.. that’s ummm.. that’s just… that’s .. well.. he was just special, now wasn’t he??

    Good grief woman, I’m glad you got out of that situation with all your body parts in tact! yeesh!

    He was short bus special. Really, sometimes I wondered how he remembered to breathe. -CS

  2. Del-v August 18, 2008 at 10:42 am #

    CS – I’m not into stalking internet celebrities, only local TV celebrities. Please don’t take it personally.

    Wow. Are you calling me an internet celebrity? Because that would be really nice. -CS

  3. Del-v August 18, 2008 at 11:04 am #

    Yes, you are an internet celebrity – making you totally unstalkable.

    Secretly I’m also a local celebrity, at least I tell myself since I was in that one edition of a local magazine. You can totally stalk me. And by “stalk me” I mean “buy me a drink at Ixia.” -CS

  4. eve cleveland August 18, 2008 at 11:09 am #

    I’m sorry you had such a bad experience with your stalker. I am a professional stalker, but I’m the nice kind-not the scary kind. Want to try it again? It can be a lot of fun!

    Oh goody! A good stalker! -CS

  5. Liz4.0 August 18, 2008 at 11:53 am #

    ummm…. my husband pees when the door is open, and his scratching drives me effing crazy. It is a short drive though. And he is kinda hairy. Oh no…

    I have a huge thing about boundaries. I don’t want to see other people pee, and you’re not invited to watch me. As far as I’m concerned, the bathroom door isn’t just for decoration. Freaking close it!

    Uh oh…did you marry Hairy McBacksweat?? -CS

  6. ME IN MD August 18, 2008 at 11:58 am #

    OMG i though u were referring to the recent ex at first!
    Glad the stalking is in your past

    He’s not that far gone…though he does like to talk about his stinking feelings an awful lot. -CS

  7. Stella August 18, 2008 at 11:59 am #

    You’ve made me a little queasy, just with his given nickname. He sounds like a charmer. I’m glad you managed to get rid of him with all your body parts intact!

    The nickname is quite accurate and it makes me queasy too. -CS

  8. Red August 18, 2008 at 12:09 pm #

    At least once, most of us have slipped into a pair of bad idea jeans. Glad you (and I) have taken them off.

    If only Katie Holmes would stop pegging hers and make the choice to throw them out. -CS

  9. Mo August 18, 2008 at 1:32 pm #

    I had the stalker boyfriend in high school. We worked together bagging groceries at Safeway. A great HS gig, BTW. We dated briefly and it ended badly. I wasn’t interested and tried to end it nicely, but he wasn’t thrilled with that outcome.

    Afterwards, he would call incessantly, drive by my house and wait outside of the store while I worked (because by this time I tried to make sure didn’t work the same shift), and he’d hang around until I left. I had to get escorted from the building by security every night. This went on for a few weeks until he followed me when I was pushing carts into the store. We got into a screaming match (me telling him to go AWAY and the store manager got involved. It was bad.

    It was a pretty terrifying experience actually.

    It wasn’t until I finally told my parents what was going on and my mom called his mom that it ended.

    It was a very early and extremely valuable lesson in not dating a co-worker.

    That’s really freaking scary. Don’t you wonder what it was that drove him over the edge (aside from your good looks and sparkling personality and knowing that you could never ever be his)? -CS

  10. damon August 18, 2008 at 2:25 pm #

    I don’t understand stalking either.
    You seemed to handle it well.
    In case I ever have this problem and need some advice, could you please give me your home address, home phone #, cell phone #, place of employment, address of employer, mothers maiden name, and your bra size?
    You know, just in case.

    Hey, I’m happy to give that to you. You know what, just take my number. It’s 867-5309, just ask for Jenny.

    God, I’m so freaking funny. -CS

  11. Thaddeus August 18, 2008 at 2:55 pm #

    Your post reminds me of my favorite video on youtube. It’s called “It puts the lotion on its skin” … and features the skin dude from Silence of the Lambs.

    Check it out!

    I’m totally going to check that out when I get home tonight. Thanks! -CS

  12. pistols at dawn August 18, 2008 at 3:05 pm #

    I do not understand people whose reactions are not tempered within reasonable bounds by the existence of shame.

    You and me both. -CS

    P.S. I know that was you that kept ringing my doorbell last night and then hiding. And please stop rummaging through my garbage.

  13. SinCity August 18, 2008 at 3:05 pm #

    Holy Cow, talk about irony… Hubby 2.0 and I were just referencing that line last night… very weird.

    Anyway, your Hairy McBacksweat sounds lovely in every way. No really, I don’t understand why you broke up with him!

    I’m glad he didn’t hurt you and the fact that he walked in like that sent shivers down my spine. I had a stalker when I was in college – he was a scientist from Turkey who worked in the lab where I had my student workstudy job and he used to just come in the room and stare at me… followed me everywhere around campus, home etc… I finally reported him after he followed me to the women’s room and wouldn’t let me leave, I was convinced he was going sell my blonde ass on the middle eastern sex trade ring…

    anyway, creepy. really friggin’ creepy…

    You’d be living a totally different life right now if you had been sold into the sex trade ring. Perhaps you would have ended up in Amsterdam working in one of those brothels where you sit in the window and try to get someone’s attention. -CS

  14. Jinksy August 18, 2008 at 9:50 pm #

    If you own a collection of their hair (from body or head) and they are unaware of it, I would consider it stalking.

    Surprisingly enough, I’ve never been interested in collecting anyone’s hair. -CS

  15. Boom August 19, 2008 at 12:31 am #

    um I don’t know, CS. Try getting stalked by a guy who’s scalp is almost completely flaked off from psoriasis and sweats so much at the gym you can you’re wondering how his clothes don’t slip right off into a big flaky wet puddle. And did I mention his body looks like an amoeba?

    SHAPES!! Oh, why have I not written about your long lost lover, Shapes, before? -CS

  16. Amadeo August 19, 2008 at 9:14 am #

    Did he grab at his nipples and scream when you ended it….that would be a sign to me.

    He actually stripped out of his clothes, tucked his peen between his legs, and started dancing around the room in a red, silk kimono. What does that tell you? -CS

  17. The Guv August 19, 2008 at 10:38 am #

    You know, I always wondered who paid all those thousands of dollars for a Real Doll. Then I saw a documentary on the BBC about it and I have to say, it was EXACTLY what I imagined. Basically, if you’ve considered a night of passion with a corpse you’d probably buy a Real Doll.


    I saw that same documentary!! It was totally crazy. The one guy that freaked me out the most was the one that sends his doll to get fixed. -CS

  18. missetiquette August 20, 2008 at 3:18 pm #

    Oh wow………he was just all kinds of special. I’m glad you walked away relatively unscathed. I had a stalker in college so I know how scary it can be. Some folks just do not have a firm grip on reality.

    Ugh, I still have the nasty memories. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t make the memories go away. -CS

  19. How to Get Six Pack Fast April 15, 2009 at 10:59 am #

    After reading through this article, I just feel that I really need more info. Could you suggest some resources ?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: