b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Stalked » Page 10 | Search
This is a question Stalked

Have you been stalked? Or have you done the stalking? Is that you in the bushes outside with the nightvision goggles?

(, Thu 31 Jan 2008, 15:40)
Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, ... 1

This question is now closed.

Scary Girls
not so much a stalker story as an observation.

I have in the past had my own experience with a nutter female who will. not. go. away.

She left flowers on my car, and bought me a teddy to try and get me back.

Having noticed a trend in lots of your stories my observation is this - Why do girls trying to win the affections of a boy buy them fucking flowers and teddies?

I mean come on, why not a socket set? or some lager, or even better porn ?

Length ? took me 3 months to persuade her to leave me alone...
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 16:30, 17 replies)
My tale, and the guilt that follows
My first ever b3ta post, after I registered specifically so I could tell this tale.

I was once a stalker and it remains the one thing of which I am most deeply ashamed.

Names are of course changed to protect the innocent.

I first met Betty in 1985 when we were both 12 years old. She and I were in the same second year class and so had virtually all lessons together. She was insanely pretty with gorgeous hazel eyes, a warm velvety voice even at that age and a nose that turned up at the end. I did the usual thing of admitting to friends that I fancied her, she found out, laughed and rejected me (I wasn't the coolest kid in the class by a long shot) and we stayed casual classmates for the rest of that year.

The following school year I'd still see her around, still thought she was one of the most gorgeous women I'd ever met, but contented myself with nursing a secret crush. No need to take any action.

Then the following year at age 14 (this was 1987) my heart went out to her again when I saw her again after the summer holidays. I knew I had to do something to let her know how I feel. So I took one of her friends aside and asked if I could have her address to write to her. Her friend thought that was really sweet of me and so happily handed over the details. That night I wrote a three page letter telling her I was in love with her and how much I liked her and that whilst I knew I wasn't the coolest person to be around, I hoped she'd find some way of responding.

I waited three days for a reaction, but nothing came. I'd see her around and smile at her but she ignored me and breezed past. This was confusing to my adolescent mind. A reciprocation would have been nice, a rejection not too unexpected but still devastating, but no reaction at all? I wrote again a week later and asked her to let me know how she felt. Still exactly the same.

Thus began for me what I now look back on as an incredibly disturbing obsession. I would write to her regularly, at least once a week, telling her how nice she looked and how I was feeling that week. I'd sit in school assemblies and make sure I had line of sight to her so I could look at her and wrap myself up in her beauty. I'd wait around at lunchtimes near where I knew she would be so she would have to walk past me, just to give her the chance to acknowledge me. I sent her presents sometimes, on valentines day sending her a teddy bear in a box thanks to a mail order company that posted them anonymously in exchange for a postal order.

In all this time she never once reacted at all. She must not have even mentioned the extent of my pestering to her friends, as they were all supportive and co-operative when I confided in them of my feelings, saying she probably didn't know how I was feeling etc. One of them even gave me her telephone number although I never dared call her. I just wrote and told her that I knew it, but that I actually respected her privacy and wasn't ever going to call her. To me that sounded reassuring but looking back it must have seemed still rather sinister and scary.

This went on for a full eight months. The whole school knew I fancied her and would spend time hanging around like a lovesick puppy, but clearly nobody knew just what I was putting her through. The truth of the matter finally hit home to me the following spring when one of my own friends made a casual remark about how she had mentioned to one of her own friends about how she "sometimes wonders if he's going to jump out of a bush and rape me." I was utterly horrified and had to go somewhere alone to think. All this time I was trying to make her like me and trying to reach out and communicate with her in the only way I felt secure doing, and in actual fact I must have been scaring the life out of her. I immediately knew I'd done something that could not be undone. My letters and attention stopped. I put Betty out of my head and turned my affections to another girl who acted swiftly to put me in my place.

We had one more year at school together after which she left to stay to college. My only attempt at talking to her in this time was at the end of the final week of school when I was collecting signatures from everyone I knew. I approached her and a friend in the canteen one lunchtime and asked for their scrawl in my book. Her friend obliged and while she was doing so Betty took her leave of the situation without saying a word. My lasting regret was that I never really knew what she made of the whole situation and never really had the means to say sorry. Deep down it was my personal guilty secret.

That would have been the end of that but for the fact that fate threw us together again. I had a holiday job in between university terms working for an accountancy firm in the nearest city. Christmas 1992 I reported for my regular three week stint entering data and nearly died of fright on the spot as Betty walked past to her desk where she was now a secretary. I spent the morning hardly daring to move, even to the coffee machine and had to look her up in the office telephone book to convince myself it was really her.

Somehow I made it to the end of the holiday without having to confront the situation, but on my final afternoon I drew breath and wrote her an email on the internal system. In it I said I was too much of a coward to talk to her properly but then recounted to her what I knew I had done when we were at school together, how I had discovered what it was doing to her, how I had spent four years with it all on my conscience and how bittery, deeply sorry I was for putting her through what for a teenage girl must have been a rather strange and scary situation. I told her I would be back in the office at Easter and hoped we could start afresh from there. I hit the Send button at 5.30pm and ran out of the office without looking back.

Come the following Easter she was still there. No reply or comment was forthcoming and without any real reason to talk to her there was nothing more I could say or do. Time passed. I graduated and the holiday job turned into a full time position as the office computer assistant. Thus I was working with Betty every day and sometimes had to help her out with issues. Over time the atmosphere thawed between us. I could walk up and ask her something without shitting myself, she would ring me with a problem she wanted me to solve and I could even at times banter with her, making a crack about not wanting to be kicked when I had to crawl under her desk to untangle some cables. The only time I ever came close to confronting the past was at the Christmas party one year when we wound up sitting together in a semi-sober state. She initiated a conversation about watching managers make twats of themselves on the dance floor and asked how I was. I told her I was fine and then drunkenly mumbled about how I knew so much shit had gone down in the past but I was very glad I knew her. She seemed to clam up at this point and moved away. Clearly the scars were still there.

I made one last effort to make amends. In early 96, almost ten years since it all happened I was set to leave the office and move on in my career. In my last week I handed over my duties and then approached Betty and suggested that given I'd probably never see her again, how about I take her to lunch to say goodbye. Rather than respond, she groaned and looked at me pleadingly, as if begging me not to make her give an answer. I immediately let her off the hook, told her the offer was there if she wanted to take me up on it but I understood why she might not and assured her I would not ask again. I walked back to my desk slightly crushed, knowing that I would never be able to put the matter to rest.

It is now 20 years since my obsession and from time to time I'm still tormented by the thought of how I behaved. The concept of stalking did not exist back then, but that's what I was doing, trying to attach myself to every aspect I could of a person's life, just to get them to notice me and like me. Part of me wonders just what would have happened if she had told me where to stick it after I had sent the first letter. Maybe I would not have got the message straight away, but after the third time I probably would. This is of course is an attempt to deflect the blame, and I can't really do that.

So there you have it. I was once a stalker and it is for me the darkest stain I have on my character. You might say 20 years is a long time to beat yourself up over something, but I remain haunted by that final conversation when I quit the accountancy job. Even after all that time, even after working alongside me for three and a half years and treating me as a trusted colleague, it seems she was not able to look me in the eye and forgive me for the way I behaved. Without that, I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself either.

Usual length comments apply, but I hope you see why I had to tell it all.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 16:26, 22 replies)
The Chuckle Brothers
Do they share a stalker "To you, to me" style or do they have their own? Discuss.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 16:11, 1 reply)
Mistaken Identity...
In the mid '80s I was part of a group of caner ne'er do wells, doing our A levels. Our attire and haircuts were slightly alternative I suppose, but I didn't think it was weird enough to attract attention.

It started one lunch time, the first I knew of it was when, out of the blue, I was grabbed by the throat:
"If you sell her any of that shit again you're fucking dead!"
Bearing in mind I didn't know either the person who attacked me, or the person they were talking about, or what I was supposed to have sold her, I was somewhat flummoxed.

To cut a long story short, my bro had shared a doob with this girl at his school, she'd got an older boyfriend who was into smack, and somehow this 'guardian angel' who was her mate had made a quantumn leap to assuming it was me who was selling it to her.

It got worse. Continued threats of violence meant I had to 'fess up to my level (very minor) of involvement in the murky, hazy world of narcs, further exacerbated that (oh the luck of it) my form teacher was a family friend. Hmmm deputy head, parents, form teacher, cards marked.

Then it got weirder. An 'associate' of said hoodlum started ringing up, asking really obvious incriminating questions (prior to mobiles, all on home phone lines, fuck knows how he got the number) asking where he could score, if it was 'good stuff' etc, all proceeded by a rather obvious 'click' (like a panasonic mono cassette record button).

This was just before my A levels, and I was doing my best just to keep my head down and revise.

Then, most alarming of all, my bro's English teacher held him back after class, and said:

"I shouldn't be telling you this but I like you and your brother....they're on to you, watch out!"

Over the next few days, unmarked cars trailed us around. We lived on a cul de sac and it was pretty obvious we were being tailed by the drug squad. Scared the crap out of us. We were never taken in for questioning, and they obviously had better things to do eventually as we were totally squeaky clean by then.

The chap who grabbed me by the throat went on to join the police... and his associate wound up the wrong people later in life and got stabbed.... Makes me feel sick just thinking about the whole few months.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 16:02, Reply)
The blessed Cornish
The definitions of stalking in these stories range from the scary to what I could easily regard as a daily occurrence - looking up exes on Facebook et al – to the just a bit mental. Dianne was in the just a bit mental category.

In between uni and post grad, I moved back to the sunnier climes of home, Cornwall. And back home with my ma. Joy.

Taking a job in a local, and somewhat famous boozer in Newquay, (think where ship folk may head), I passed the time and had some fun before more studying. Now although I derive from said town, I’d been away for many years at uni, almost unheard of there but what ho. So, I had to make new friends, and become reacquainted with old friends from school and what not. So, new friend and my fellow barman introduced one night introduced to me his cousin, Dianne.

Blonde, tanned, bit cute. Thought, cool, and we set about and ‘enjoyed some time together’ … which was a bit odd really. Now, I do like participation in said activity, not just to lie there and act as though you’re watching TV, when there’s no TV on. And even bat an eyelid when it goes in the wrong hole (even though I continued). Night of fun wasn’t that fun and in the morning she left for home. We swapped numbers and texts here and there. Met up another night, tried for some more fun but this time she talked while I was trying to engage in naked activities, and was all just a bit off putting.

So I kinda thought would be best if we went our separate ways. Which I thought she agreed with. Until she started hanging out with some new friends of mine. Who liked drinking in the bar where I worked. So, every shift when mates would come in, so would she. And when I would go out with mates, oh, Dianne would turn up.

Only went of for a month or so. It stopped when I came home one night from work and while having a chat with mother dearest (who herself had been out) I noticed someone was afoot in my bedroom and found someone asleep in my bed, (we didn’t lock our front door in those days) I kinda put my foot down after that and told her under no circumstances to leave me alone. Which was nice as she did.

See I don’t think there was any malice or evil in Dianne, I think she was a bit bonkers and perhaps I didn’t make it as obvious as I could that I didn’t want to see her again. But getting into my bed and sleeping is not allowed. And not even wincing (and continuing talking) while taking the naughty step, just weirded me out.

Length, I thought it was bigger.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 15:41, Reply)
I worked as a 'detached youth worker' for a bit.
This job entailed going up to young people in your area, along with a co-worker, and chatting to them to see if they were OK.

For some reason, although we worked in this job for well over a year, we were never issued with anything as useful as ID cards. Or, come to that, a job description!

So of course most of the young people thought we were pervs and avoided us.

Huzzah! Government money well spent!
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 15:15, 2 replies)
My mate J
Once fell asleep early on a surf weekend.

Usual thing everyone pissed or stoned around the fire singing with guitars and bongos and shit.

We noticed him scuttle off back to his tent for a wee nap. One the guys decides to pick a bunch of flowers from a hedgerow, sneak into his tent, open J's sleeping bag and then as softly and quietly as possible insert the stem end of the flowers into the old chutney speedway.

He then took a photo of this arrangement before texting it to everyone he knew under the heading "STALKED"

What a phlange
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 15:12, 3 replies)
Sexy psycho sicko pixie

A long time ago I worked for a (the) gas TRANSportation COmpany based in Solihull - it was almost compulsory and somewhat of a rite of passage. Anyway, as a junior developer with an experimental turn of mind I would regularly crash my PC, get locked out etc. After one such incident an extremely LittlFitGirl (put her in your pocket and take her home type) turned up at my desk from IT support to give me a bollocking/fix it (I know - IT support!). We seemed to hit it off and over the next few weeks she turned up more and more and would stop by whilst on her way to give other people bollockings/support. After a while we started sending each other flirty COS messages (primitive emails) - it wasn't a demanding job and 80% of the time was spent gossiping or flirting by all employees to pass the time. She began to make requests - pictures (ascii art), poetry, flowers - as I am fairly arty (I think) and was a bit swept away by it all I obliged - "You want me to run, Yes I'll chase, Ten thousand miles for a glimpse of your face..." sort of scary cheese.

She loved it, the attention etc. We went out for a few secret "lunch dates" but she was very coy about meeting up after work, or even at work but I liked the cloak and dagger stuff and was smitten. One thing she was very insistant on was that I get her a Valentine's card. As an incurable romantic I believed that the best V day cards are anonymous, so using my initiative went on 192.com (stalkers paradise), got her address and sent her a card. Everything was fine for a while until I let it slip that I sent her the card - she went ballistic when she found out I knew her address. It all came on top when another lovesick guy she had hanging on in her own team started a fight on me in the pub after work as I had been upsetting her. It all got a bit out of hand, the gossip machine went wild, emails were shown as evidence of my freakiness until it became apparent that in addition to a somewhat abusive relationship at home she had several guys running around after at work and was all in all a bit of a drama queen fruitcase.

I have learned my lesson now - I ran a mile, left the place and got a better job (not connected) me and the other victim later became friends and I met a nicer girl not long after.

Please don't judge me on this - it was all her - I'm no stalker. I never used the "who is logged on" Netware facility to coincide breaks!

Waste of goood skin as the Poppies say.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 15:12, 4 replies)
I thought she thought I fancied her but I didn't
A mate's wife called into the office where I worked looking for someone else who wasn't there. I was the only one in at the time.

Now this lass had this thing going on where she damn well knew she was pretty, and assumed everyone fancied her. I always found it awkward around her for this reason.

I was trying to be friendly, but also working on my computer while I talked to her. I happened to have my iTunes collection on random play, and suddenly just as I clicked something, "sail away with me honey" started blasting out, and she legged it. Huzzah!
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 15:11, 1 reply)
It's funny when people think you're stalking them.
I remember saying hi to a girl on a bus once because I recognised her from my old maths class. She looked really alarmed, and I got slightly embarrassed by this, so I said something alongthe lines of "Oh don't you remember me, I was in your, erm, thingy class with, ummm, whatsisname".

She got off the bus as soon as she could, and I felt rather silly for a bit.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 15:03, 1 reply)
I have never, would never and will never:

- read someone else's texts, emails or letters
- got annoyed at a boyfriend spending time with other people
- made a nuisance of myself after a break-up (it's obvious fairly quickly if you're going to be able to stay friends; if not, leave the poor sod alone and stop chewing over it.)

I have friends (not close ones, mind) who do these things. I've sat there open-mouthed while a girl of my acquaintance dragged her fella home from the pub in front of all his mates for some imagined grievance. I've known girls lie about being pregnant (f*cking low), cheat repeatedly, cling, and complain about absolutely-frikking-nothing for hours on end and the chaps still don't give them the boot. (Men of the world - it's because you tolerate it that they continue to do it. Make a stand - do the rest of us a favour...)

And yet, despite the fact I've never been anything but sane and reasonable in my dealings with the opposite sex (even when discovering I'd been cheated on when massively head over heels with a certain vile and undeserving personage) I'm single. Ergo, I can only assume that secretly, in the deepest, darkest, most simian depths of the male psyche, men must actually prefer whiny neurotic manipulative females who'll weep if you leave them alone for an evening, harrass you via any communicative means possible and then (going on some of these tales) follow you about wailing that they want your babies for months or even years afterwards. It's the only possible explanation.
That's DEFINITELY the reason.

Any other ladies finding this annoying?
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 14:34, 28 replies)
What you stalkin' bout, Willis?
So, there I am. I’m 22, living with a bunch of mates in a huge house in Wakefield while at Uni, and loving every minute of it.

It was a cold November’s eve when the ‘flu struck. Within five minutes I had gone from sharp-as-a-button to a feverish, quivering puddle of mucus and sweat, with the occasional piece of vomit thrown in for good measure. In short, I was Not Well. For a reason that still escapes me, whenever the light in my room was turned on, it also turned a ceiling fan on, and there was no way to turn it off. So there I lay, in the dark, shivering. B, my closest and dearest friend, would occasionally bring me dry toast or a hot drink, while A would drop off any notes that I needed to read up on and O would kindly deliver any reading material that I needed. It would be true to say that my friends looked after me.

And then there was G. I must state at this point that G was in no way offensive. I’d met him and A on the very first day in halls, and we were all three on the same course. G was also, not to put too fine a point on it, a raving homosexual. He made Graham Norton look like Hulk Hogan (and if someone could pass the mindbleach so I can get rid of that particular image, thanks!)

Anyway, back to the story. I’m laid up in my ill pit, and G comes in to my room. He sits by my bed, and starts talking at me. After about 5 minutes of inane babble, he says to me “I want you.” I imagine he thought it would be a movie-moment, where I would cast off my covers, and my clothes, and eagerly accept him in to my bed.

I didn’t. “Look mate,” I said “that’s great and everything but… you know I’m not Gay, right?” (and to top it off, my girlfriend of the time lived in the same house).

If only he’d have left it there. I would have never mentioned it again, and we could have got on with things like it had never happened. But oh no. His battle to win my heart began with vigour.

The notes started. They were ok, in their way, full of homo-erotic prose that I delivered back to him with literary critique and a grade attached (and spelling mistakes underlined). He wrote poems. He wrote songs which he performed at open mic night. He’d wait outside my door for me to get home from work or to get up in the morning.

One night, after we had all been out, someone instigated ‘naked Monday’, which entailed all of our housemates sitting in our pants in the lounge. G walked in, came up behind me, and yanked down my undercrackers. I just about caught my tackle before everyone got an eyeful of it (although that didn’t stop P from getting an eyeful of my scrotum when I leaned over to grab my pants) – while G was on his knees in front of me enthusiastically trying to bat my hand away so he could get to my todger.

No way Jose.

He also stormed between me and my date at a summer ball and demanded to dance with me and also tried to kiss me. It was at this point I told him, in no uncertain terms, to take himself far, far away from me.

I hated myself for that, because he wasn’t a bad guy, he just wanted something he couldn’t have. But he did ruin what was, previously, a strong friendship.

I’m just glad that I haven’t suffered some of the horrible things that have happened to other people on these pages. I think we should all have a group hug! *hugs group*
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 14:12, 8 replies)
Well I'm a member of a particular website which gets the folk to post their own stories.

So each week I when a new story is posted I read through all the replies and learn a little bit more about each person.

So far I'm up to counting; the must have best story person, the super bad pun post, the lets post as much smut as possible postee and the hilarious posts.

The best part is they keep posting and I still get to follow them around on this website.

Who would of though stalking is this much fun?
Well off I go again ¬¬
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 13:54, 2 replies)
Me a Stalker?
It was 11.20 at night and I was travelling home on a bus having just finished late shift. As I got up to ring the bell a rather pretty nurse gave me a smile.

The only thing on my mind was my full bladder, the two pints that I'd had during my "teabreak" were making their presence known.

The bus arrived at the stop and the pretty nurse alighted, with me following behind her. The nurse was headed in my direction, but at the time all I was thinking about was a pee!

As the nurse approached the flats where I live her pace increased and she made a few nervous glances behind her. Seeing me hot on her heels as it were,she began to panic.

I was gobsmacked when the nurse got out a key and entered my block of flats! The door was firmly slammed shut by the nurse!

I reached for my keys and opened the door to the stairwell, the nurse looked down at me with real terror. "It's OK!" I called out "I live here and I need to dash for the loo!".

I don't think she heard or understood what I said, because as I was dashing upstairs to avoid pissing my pants, the nurse's footsteps were getting quicker and quicker!

The nurse reached her floor and slammed her door behind her and I carried on to the next floor and just made it to the loo with my back teeth on shore patrol!

I saw my new neighbour a few days later! We had a bit of a laugh about the misunderstanding!
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 13:03, Reply)
College + Ex girlfriend
Being a college student has its usual laughs, stupidity and when you hit 18, the booze starts to flow faster than piss.

All was going fine, until the day my ex just appeared out of the blue, as if magic so to speak, so i go over and say hello, offered her a drink (on a friends only level) and after a chat, we called it a night and went our seperate ways (this, my B3tans, is where it began).

2.00 in the morning, she texted me, asking all levels of silly questions, and she even went as far, as to get back with me, which i declined in a nice way, but she wouldn't have any of it, oh no siree, the usual texts would be "Why don't you want to get back with me" and "I really like you", it gotten too far when she started turning up at my house un-expectedly.

Eventually i did the evil thing, and got her mate involved to feign a "home emergency" act, it worked, and within the hour she had gone, and wasn't seen anymore, much to my (and my mates) relife.

Length, longer than Austin Powers.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 12:22, Reply)
Bad Person
I joined simply to reply to every message with

'I can't beleive you're telling them all about us, incidentally hows life treating you nowadays? I see you've had your hair cut'

Does that make me an asshole?
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 12:21, 7 replies)
accidental stalking
I notice that most of these stories are from people who have been stalked by really creepy blokes or girls....poo. Well this is not the best way to make a first impression but I was a stalker once, in fact being the little technophile that I am, I was a facebook stalker.

However, at the time it seemed like a perfectly logical idea. I’d noticed the girl whilst watching the F.A cup final in the Student’s Union of our University (after all, the game was a complete borfest for a neutral so what else was I supposed to do?) and a few days later decided to add her as a friend after spotting her on the network homepage thingymebob. Poking is just not my style; that’s not totally stupid enough.

Anyway she accepted and I decided to comment on her interests and make some jokes. A brilliant strategy I thought and it seemed to be working. She was friendly back and even asked me at one point whether I’d be out on Friday at the Student’s Union (been at a campus bubble uni that’s the only place really to go). So off I trotted, where I bottled it and dare not even say hello.

Unfortunately I bottled it again, and again and again; pretty much every time I saw her in social situations. However, I kept sending really pointless messages and wondering why the responses were getting fewer and farer between. It only started to twig that I should probably cut my losses and won when I saw her once, and she looked very warily at me. I wonder why? (I’d added her to messenger when drunk as well once….big sodding mistake!) Even then I still kept sending messages.

Well I carried this on for a few weeks, then realising how truly awfully deep the hole I was digging was, I decided to find a bit of common sense and give up. My last message was a totally great witty pun which I cannot imagine anyone ever using about her birthday being on Valentine’s Day and how that must have ruined the romance for her parents. Honestly, I don’t know how she could resist?

Sorry about the lack of laughs, but I suppose that is the moral of the story.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 10:33, 1 reply)
I'm stalking all of you
Well, at least those of you with kids. I don't know what all the fuss is about. It's dead easy to get the information. All I need to do is search the two CDs which came through the post from the Child Benefit Agency last autumn.


/crawls back under rock
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 10:23, 5 replies)
the ongoing saga
I know this lovely girl, and i think i will call her Jane. For that is one of her names.

Jane and I attended the same university and, lo and behold, the same classes. She was a pretty little thing, slightly highly strung, but with prettiness enough to make up for this.

I get chucked from my big 6 year relationship (curse you, you licentious, lascivious harpy!) and i hit the dating scene again. I strike up conversation with Jane, with whom i'd never spoken with before, and arrange for coffee. Alarm bells should start about here.

She agrees heartily, we have a few drinks, get to know one another. We wander the town for a while, chatting away. Her life is seemingly an open book. She talks vividly about her ex (Alarm bells should start about here.) and their prior sex life, as well as her self-harm (Alarm bells should start about here.) and thoughts of never trusting men ever again (Alarm bells should start about here.).

We head back to her place, i think "I'm in!" and my cock controls my thoughts thereafter. We don't fuck. I'm a little disappointed, but after 6 hours of preparatory (yes 6 HOURS) chat it all fizzles out. Due to her not being able to kiss. (Alarm bells should start about here.).

Cue the ongoing saga. We've remained friends, with strange interludes where she loves me or hates me. Literally. There is no mincing of words here - she does literally love me (head-over-heels shite) or hate me (with the passion of a thousand burning suns).

I work nights. Which means i don't see most of the weekend. She texts me on an off, and i didn't reply as i was sleeping.

"I don't know what's wrong with you but i've cried and cried my eyes out for you thinking you'd come back to me to think that i thought we were so close and then you ignore me. Well don't expect me to wait for you."

Let me note, once again, that i lose whole days with working shift. I chose to wait and reply to this message when i was compos mentis. This was the interlude:

"I don't know what's going on but you've left me feeling so awful i can't do this any more to think that i loved you and now you won't even respond to me"

Immediately, i reply. I know how mentally unstable she can be (crazy like fruitbat!).

"Listen, i've been busy."

Suddenly, she turns around and is kept sweet. Whiskey tango FOXTROT? Base to Schumann, you have permission to land on planet CRAZYASKETTLESFULLOFFISH.

"Oh, ok then. Well *ex's name* has been in contact..."

... and that text message ended some 8 pages later.

Bunny boiler? Quite.

edit: i remember her telling me she'd been diagnosed with Narcissistic personality disorder. It was unsurprising when i read the DSM IV's criteria for it. It was like staring at her spilled onto the page.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 9:57, 2 replies)
I was working in a supermarket a few years back.
And there was a girl who used to come in EVERYDAY I was working and by chewing gum or a drink and always go to a checkout near mine.

She also knew another girl I had previousely met and revealed this secret to her.

turns out she liked me but was too shy to say. Instead she would ask my friends about me and watch me day by day. She knew my days off.

This went on for about 9 months.

So when I saw previously mentioned OTHER girl she told me of her friends plight. The timing was right ..I had just left my GF (as Im sure she was aware) So I asked her out.

I dumped her 14 months later because she was mental. How was I to know she would turn out to be so odd?
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 9:21, Reply)
Not particularly exciting but...

met a girl a few years back through a friend of a friend. I'd just split up woth someone after a couple of years, so was just lookign for a bit of a laugh.

She seemed exactly whatI was looking for, and gave every indication that not only was she filth (never wore knickers, didn't like body hair), but it would be no strings.

I was horribly wrong on both counts.

After getting us thrown out of a club for offering out a bouncer, I decided this lady was not for me.

What followed was a month of phone calls (at least one a day), emails and the like.
I got stories about how she 'knew people' who didn't take too kindly to her being messed about; she had some disease and I need to meet her to talk about it (though slightly scary, I got checked out and was fine, and anyway, I'm always extremely careful, so this may have been a lie).

But the highlight was the message left on my mobile one saturday night.

I was happily getting drunk when she phoned. I ignored it. Then voicemail rang me back.
The message consisted of someone holding their phone to a stereo which was playing 'Bootylicious', a big hit at the time.
This went on for about half the song before I heard her say "Fuck it, he's not there" and hung up.

(Surely the fact it went to voicemail should have alerted her to the fact I wasn't 'there').

I never saw or heard from her again.

And the friend of a friend who introduced us apologised, and said that he wasn't going near her or or friends again, as they were all potty.

I know that NOW...!

LENGTH: Quite long for me...
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 8:19, Reply)
rehash of "hotels" qotw
my cousin sharon was stalked by a fat, hairy, fugly scottish rugby player on holiday in spain. he chatted her up the first night there, but she made it quite clear that she wasn't interested and had a boyfriend back home.

freak didn't like this.

he told the entire hotel that he shagged her on the first night and had given her such a good seeing-to, that she was following him round the town, begging him for sex! the worst thing was, peope believed him, despite the fact that she could be seen several times a day, storming in from the pool and yelling "fuck off, jim, i don't like you!"

he sent her a teddy, wrote "i love you" on the wall outside our room, left roses(the cheap plastic ones) outside our room, the lot.

eventually, i decided to have a word with him myself. i saw him in the bar and, trying to remain polite, told him that she wasn't interested and, if he knew what was good for him, he'd leave her alone. he said he wanted to hear it from her! wtf? he'd been hearing it from her all week! i said something along the lines of "you're hearing it from me, fuck off, you troll." i thought this would be enough.

cue 2 hours outside our door, peering through the keyhole and begging to come in. frantic shouting and swearing didn't budge him, but hairspray + lighter + keyhole = a peaceful night.

on our last night, his mate david turned up at our room, very much the worse for wear. david was a nice bloke whose conscience had finally got the better of him and it all came pouring out, how jim had been telling everyone that he and sharon were an item, how she wouldn't leave him alone, how she'd offered to let him do her up the backdoor if he'd say he loved her. this is just a sample of the bullshit he was spreading about her.
now, say what you want about me, but nobody fucks with my family.

i ran downstairs and found him, once again, in the bar. i practically launched myself at him fist first, catching him right on the nose. i was so angry, i don't think he could have stopped me if he tried. i'm not really sure what else i did to him, i was in such a rage that i just kind of blanked out. i do remember launching him through the patio doors, though. they were shut until he went through them. i then turned to the assembled and rather stunned crowd and said "i don't care what that prick has told you, sharon never so much as kissed him. he's a sad prick who has to lie because he can't get a girl!" and with that, i stormed off to comfort my emotionally shattered cousin.
word got around the hotel that night and, with his friend backing us up, people were now beginning to believe our side of the story. we were just glad to be going home.
that is, until we spoke to the rep. "oh, yes," she says "i've just been talking to jim, he said you two were inseparable all week, but he had to talk you into forgetting about him and going back to your boyfriend"
at this point, sharon became hysterical and i really thought she was headed for a breakdown. i explained the situation to the rep and she said she would support us if we put in a complaint, but made it clear that the company would do nothing about it.

i got one of the bastard's teeth out, though.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 4:24, 4 replies)
Friends Reunited
She got in contact with me, we resumed sexual relations.
Not really stalking but damn good sex. God bless the InterWeb !
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 3:07, 1 reply)
I have never stalked anyone but I have been stalked.

when I was at school many years ago a fat goth girl stalked me for 3 years , she left love notes in my locker and apparently tried to kill herself after I told her to fuck off.

My second girlfriend, what a bitch
I will call her beth , I broke up with her , she said she was up the duff, she wasn't. she told the police I stole her car, I hadn't it was in my name and I PAID for it and paying for half of the insurance doesn't constitute ownership bitch. I had my locks changed she broke in and stole half my stuff? illegal divorce anyone? I called the police she denied it was her, the police searched her house and found 65% of my stuff. To top it all off she had my nose broken by the guy she ran off with.
Now shes fat has a ugly kid and lives in a council house. while I have a nice family...

I dated a girl called Michelle from Sweden, I broke up with her (well I wasn't actually going out with her at all) and she proceeded to kick my front door in every few weeks and declare her undying love, she then sent a email to my own mother, no idea how she got her email address saying that I had asked her to marry me, I had not.

length 5 years, lots of therapy.
(, Tue 5 Feb 2008, 2:33, Reply)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, ... 1