my ex was totally insane
she left me after a screaming argument, which started when she claimed that I made her feel like a prostitute. I kind of felt like one as well, so I offered to share one.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 8:04, Reply)

in high school
I used to look up the addresses of girls I liked in the White Pages, then go riding past their house. The strange thing is that I'd get terrified that they'd be there and see me.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 7:46, 1 reply)

tim, the asian fetishist
You know when someone tells you a story about someone scary, and there's a point where they say "alarm bells should have rung"? Well, I'm an idiot, and I can honestly say that the alarm bells rung the entire time when I knew this person, and I was - ashamed too say - too starved for friendship to hear them.

Let's call him Tim, for that was his name.

Tim found me via myspace on my university's mini-site. I'm really not fussed with meeting people off the internet, so it didn't worry me. He mentioned that he'd seen me at a particular building at a particular time and went searching for me by trawling through the journalism students on myspace. Hmm... kinda weird. But I don't have many friends at uni, so I welcomed the company. BIG MISTAKE.

Tim and I then struck up a sort of friendship. He was a funny, smart chap, but also a bit clingy, had a very self-depreciating personality and was completely pussy-whipped. Now, I'm pretty socially retarded myself, so I didn't worry too much about it. I'm also an idiot.

After a while, I realised that most of Tim's "best friends" were female. They also all happened to be Asian. At some point, he had confessed his undying love to all of them, only to be spurned. I myself am an Asian female who was fast becoming a good friend. I smelt a creepy, anime loving, Asian-fetishist rat.

What was that about alarm bells again?

Poor old Tim had many girl problems. He was hopelessly in love with his best lady friend, who most certainly did not love him back. She sounded like a complete and utter bitch, but you gotta hand it to her for taking advantage of the situation - Tim gave her lifts, footed her bar tabs, and was willing to sit alone in a club and watch her hook up with random men on the dancefloor.

Like I said, utterly pussywhipped. I was beginning to lose a lot of respect for him. But still... alarm bells?

Tim and I would hang out in between classes to eat lunch and the like. In second semester, I had a four hour gap between classes. Like a dribbling basset hound, Tim would wait for me then follow me around. First to lunch, then to the computer lab where I would attempt to study, but fail because Tim was too busy whinging to me about how no girls wanted to bonk him. FOR FOUR HOURS. Then when i'd say "well, goodbye now, Im off to my next class" he'd lovingly escort me.
Alarm bells? Anybody?

Finally, the alarm bells rang during this conversation:
Me: Aw, my friend Cam dropped out of one of my classes. Now I don't have anybody to sit next to in my lecture.
Tim: I'll come and sit next to you next time, if you like.
Me: I thought Thursday was your day off?
Tim: It is. I want it to be my duty to make you happy
Me: o_O Erm, I'll be right thanks.
(I should mention that Tim lives an hour and a half away from uni...)

DING! DING!

When I got a boyfriend, I informed Tim of him. He either went silent, changed the subject, or gave me a lecture on how it wouldn't last.
DINGDINGDINGDINGDINGDING!!!


Then came the clincher.

"What would you do if I said I was attracted to you?" asked Tim.
"Well, Tim," I said, "I'd tell you that I'm not attracted to you in the slightest and I don't like you any more than a friend."
"Oh. Because..." The obvious 'I LIKE YOU' confession followed. Yawn.

But it didn't stop there. Oh no. I thought we could do the mature thing and stay friends. WRONG. Now I was the source of all of Tim's girl troubles. Henceforth, he bemoaned how unlucky it was that I wasn't single (oddly enough, not taking into account that I just plain didn't like him anyway) and how we would have been good together.

I told him to fuck off and blocked him on every corner of the internet. This is quite a milestone really - I rarely lose my temper with people and I'm nice as pie most of the time. It takes a LOT for me to get that angry at someone. Like when someone just does NOT get the hint.

He still sent me messages on myspace. One simply said "Snootchie bootchies".

Unfortunately, I bumped into him at uni, as you do. But i found out that he got a girlfriend! And you guessed it - this lass was a young Asian female. She was also in one of our classes.

"Hoorah!" thought I. "I can now resume a normal friendship without that weird sexual tension."

After excitedly asking him about her, he had this to say:
"You know, I told her that I once liked you, and she said that she can see why I was attracted to you."

I still had my boyfriend at this time. Tim had finally found a poor little clueless Asian chick who was actually attracted to him.
Remember what I said about never losing my temper with people?
"Fuck off, and never talk to me again," I hissed, grabbed my stuff, and left.


Apologies for ignoring all the alarm bells.
No apologies for length - I know you like it long.
(TheChicken Five hundred thousand points from Gryffindor, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 6:09, 3 replies)

Phone-calls
My lass has something akin to a stalker.
He goes to the same choir as her, which is all fair and well, but constantly rings her with all manner of pathetic reasons. Almost everyday, she ends up saying "I've just got to go, mate. Lovely talking to you, just a bit busy my end." to get him off the line.

Well one day I picked up her ringing mobile.
Stalker bloke, assured that the lass was otherwise engaged (in the shower, not sat next to me laughing her head off, honest) started on his usual rant about his day, his life, everyone else's day, and anything that came to mind.
The only sounds I made were the non-committal "Uh-huh" and "Uh-uh" grunts of someone paying attention while pissing around online.

Honestly I have no idea what he said, but after 5 hours he ran out of steam and thanked me, but he was "really busy at the mo" and "couldn't keep nattering with me".
EDIT: Ok, maybe exaggerating there. According to her mobile it was 4 hours and 53 minutes.

For some reason, he's never rung back.
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 5:58, 3 replies)

I am unintentionally stalking my ex
I hate the fucker, but it's hard not to see him when we live in the same flipping city, go to the same places and have mutual friends. Highly frustrating.

I have no idea where he likes to drink, but I always seem to see him whenever I'm out drinking - which is almost never, because I work on weekends.

He works at the big Electronics Boutique in the city. No, I don't want to say hello to you, dammit, I want to buy a new DS game! He's given me some odd looks. In all sincerity, I just wanted to buy MySims.

Even worse? My current boyfriend happens to work at my ex's local shopping centre. Occasionally, I pick up said boyfriend from work. The ex's brother has seen me a few times. Dammit.

However, he really does take the cake for this stalking game. I was out with friends a little while ago and eating lunch. I got a text message saying, "Enjoying your lunch?" It was from an unknown number. I freaked out completely, looking around wildly. My friends decided that we should move away, in case the texter was watching us.

After I examined the phone number for a little while, I realised that I recognised it and it was indeed my ex's. I'd deleted his phone number when we'd broken up. I leapt upon msn and told him to fuck right off. His excuse was that I'd apparently looked at him and he thought it would have been rude if he had not said hello and that I was overreacting. Uhhh...

I think he's unintentionally stalking me too. At one point, we were trying to have a conversation as friends (long story as to why) and mentioned that he'd seen me buy a pair of shoes with my friend at a particular place in the city - which is strange, because I'd actually bought the shoes AFTER my friend had left - and he'd seen me at the Nine Inch Nails concert with my boyfriend and it was sooo awkward. I suppose it would have been, if I had actually seen him too?!

I think the next time I see him, I'm just going to skip the country.
(TheChicken Five hundred thousand points from Gryffindor, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 5:19, 3 replies)

Psycho ex
Don't 85% of these stories cover the same subject?

Anyway, some time ago when I was about sixteen years old, and I had just broken up with my first serious boyfriend of two years, I met fellow whom I liked hanging out with at first. He wasn't particularly attractive: about 1m65, very skinny, horrible glasses (I'm a big fan of glasses on men, but these really were awful), and a less-than-fabulous set of teeth.
However, he seemed nice, and we saw each other on a regular basis, until I suddenly fell head over heels in love with him (god knows why...).

I should have known better even then: in the first month of our relationship he forced me to sleep over at his place (he was 21) almost every night, resulting in me not being able to go to school because this useless fuck had nothing better to do with his time than threaten and bully me. Still, I was in love with him so I failed to see his faults, even though by then he had tried to break up with me around 11 times, always going on about "how I deserved so much better than him" (yes, I did) and other crap. Besides this he did fuck all with his life: he lived with and off his grandfather, starting a new course at university each year but failing to complete even the first year at any of them. He didn't work either or even try to get a job - yet he always had money for, say, a new mac or very expensive clothing - god knows where all that came from. His grandfather was becoming elderly and couldn't do anything around the house anymore, yet he had to hire a cleaner - simply because Mr. Ex apparently felt too superior to do such lowly things like cleaning the house or cooking, even though he didn't have anything better to do...
Besides being a lazy arse and a general fuckwit, he also was a manipulative backstabber: while we were together he always went on about his ex-girlfriend and how much he had loved her, leaving e-mails he had sent to her while we were together around the house for me to read - all about how much he missed her and the times they had together, how much better she was than me...
When I confronted him about this he yelled at me for hours, calling me a jealous bitch and yet again 'breaking up' with me, only to call me a few hours later to tell me he hadn't really meant it at all - a scenario which was repeated numerous times. Well into the end of the 'relationship' this happened once again, and I just got very pissed off and left - I had to take the bus and he was following me to the bus stop, wailing about the 'love we had' in front of all the people there, and while I tried to keep my dignity and ignore him he went on and on about how he would kill himself without me in his life - this actually got to the point of jumping in front of the bus when it arrived and nearly getting run over -- which only caused me to keep seeing him because I felt sorry for the guy.

By now my parents were also outraged by him, even though they told me about a million times I should break up with him I still stuck up for him because I probably thought he could change.

After about two months I went to a festival without him where I met a really nice guy, and after seeing him a few times I realised my boyfriend was a total prick and dumped him on the spot, never to look back again.

But he did... From that moment on he called me about 100 times a day (I wish this was an exaggeration), calling my parents to whine to if I didn't pick up my phone (which I didn't). The phone calls were always fucked up: first trying to flatter me and talk me back into a relationship with him, going into a frenzy when I said no, threatening with suicide or to kill me... (He did this to my parents too) He would also be sending me letters and huge bouquets of roses every day, sending e-mails to my friends and then actually to one of my TEACHERS to tell them what a rotten person I was, turning up in front of my door in the middle of the night at least three times a week, turning up at my school asking classmates and teachers about me and what I was doing. Besides all this he had also posted a huge story about our relationship on an internet forum where I knew a lot of people - the board was visited by many people who knew each other, so word got round pretty fast. He did so much more but I just can't be arsed to write it all down... I've seen quite a few people with a shockingly alike story here, so I guess you'll get the gist of it.

This all went on for a few months, causing me to become super stressed and anxious because I couldn't go anywhere anymore without people having heard stories about me (99% of which weren't true) and not being able to sleep of pure fear. In the end I took out a restraining order against him which actually stopped him from continuing with this behaviour, but by then I already suffered from a huge depression...

I'm now 19 and still haven't got my life completely back together due to the fact that I had absolutely no confidence left after this guy was done with me and I've had a lot of trouble trusting people after all this had happened, luckily my current boyfriend (of two years now) has had much patience with me and eventually 'cured' me of a lot of my problems.
It's been a while since I thought of him and everything that has happened then - I just feel very stupid for putting up with all his shit because I'm not really that type of girl, but I guess love is blind?

I still hope he rots in hell though.

Apologies for length (he should too), melodrama and lack of humour.

PS: He also liked to dress up as a woman and take pictures of himself like this.
(St. Dymphna, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 4:05, Reply)

Ah, the first proper boyfriend
Not a scary or funny stalker story, but it is pretty much all I've got. And I was a child at the time so the story is quite crap as well.

Started dating the first proper boyfriend when I was 13 and he was 14. Though he often reminded me that he had watched me from afar for a couple of years....which I thought was a bit creepy. We dated off and on until we were 17 and 18 respectively. It was during the non-dating times that he would commence stalking.

Natrually, though we lived in the same neighborhood, we were on opposite sides of said neighborhood. This did not stop him from walking past my house several times a day when we were young, and driving past when we were old enough to have cars. He also took to making friends with any new friend or boyfriend I had. He even went so far as to talk a buddy of his into getting a job where I worked when we were a bit older. Whenever I would confront him with his stalking ways, he would always reply that he just wanted to make sure I was safe and happy....and that the only way he could do this was by being near me. A bit odd you might say, but in my adolecent mind, I thought it was a sign of 'true love'. He was quite up-front with his stalking and when he moved away, I was saddened by the loss of him always watching me. It never seemed like a bad thing to me as I recognized that he was basically a harmless horny teenage boy.


These days I have a lovely mailman who delivers to my office and jokes that he shows up every day with the mail as an excuse to stalk me. Would be much nicer though if he would just take the plunge and ask me out.

I wouldn't mind getting a bit of length and/or girth in the evenings.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Mon 4 Feb 2008, 3:54, 5 replies)

a friend of a friend
got back from a night out and we all sat in my room. it didn't look like a room the next day.

i found he'd posted his phone number on every spare piece of paper in my room he could find ... receipts, vouchers, coursework...
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 3:07, 2 replies)

Well
Back in September I met this girl at this pub, and after leaving the biggest hicky on my neck, I managed to get her number and have my way with her on her driveway after taking her home. At the time I worked in a Wetherspoons, and my shift on one days was 9am til 6pm. She was outside at half 5 (she was barred from the pub for saying one of the staff had a small penis) ((however true it was)). I went outside and told her I had to stay a little longer then 6 because one of the staff didn't turn up. She was still outside at 2am when I finally got out. It happened on many occasions (that being the longest).

Now I'm not working and have all day free. but where is she? She's fucked off somewhere and isn't speaking to me.

That's life
(AMTF uses MS Paint to make B3ta competition pictures, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 2:20, Reply)

Psycho Kerry, qu'est-ce que c'est?
Sometimes I feel like I have a large pink neon sign above my head saying, 'Hey weirdos! Come talk to me!' And they do. And then sometimes they follow me.

Shoe Man was not so bad. I met him in Priceless Shoes in Huddersfield when he noticed I was trying on size 9s and they were still too small. He said he dreamt about feet like mine and wondered if I wanted to come to his flat and walk on him. He buy me shoe, my boyfriend can come too. I politely declined. From then on every time I went shopping, he would follow me around saying 'I buy you shoe. I dream your feet.' He was fairly harmless.

Even more harmless still was an ageing man with learning difficulties in the face who got on my bus. He desperately wanted me to go to his house and meet his mum and was willing to miss his stop every single day just for a few more minutes of persuasion. I felt sorry for him.

Crazy mans from Huddersfield, I could deal with. Crazy lesbians from Castleford, I could not.

I met her at college. She bummed a cigarette off me in the first week of my second year, and we had a chat. I like talking, I like new people, and I hadn't learned that someone who wears those hideous skirt-over-trousers things that were fashionable for ten minutes in 1999 with a navy blue bomber jacket every single day must be at least a bit tapped. She was fucking mental. God-botheringly rug-munchingly violently tearfully mental. It's a long story, but basically:

- She went to all my lessons, to sit outside the door waiting for me. Even the three-hour ones. She had two days off, but would come in just to wait outside doors for me.

- She would text me on average ten times a day. More on weekends. My fella at the time was not very understanding and very suspicious so I spent hours hiding in toilets trying to reply to them, for of course, not replying led to threats upon both of our lives. It didn't help that she seemed to think of vowels as a waste of a character so just understanding the texts took ages, and a misunderstanding would also lead to threats of suicide etc.

- She came with me to the open day at Sheffield university. On the train, she grabbed my hand, and then didn't let go all day. It was sweaty.

- Every day at college, I would have my character assassinated in the smoking area, often for hours, just because I talked to someone else, or didn't reply to a text.

I was very stupid about it and handled it very badly, but it was just because I truly believed she was a nice person underneath, and to be fair to her, when she was normal (5% of the time), she was lovely, and she had had a lot of problems in her life etc. etc.

She couldn't follow me to Sheffield, but now she texted me about thirty times a day, going from how great our friendship was and psychological analysis to Y FCKNG CNT and death threats, followed just as quickly by protestations of undying love. Eventually I sent her a letter telling her, basically, just to leave me alone. In the fullness of time, she did- although I got a text from her about a month ago, asking why I had to ruin her life, which I duly ignored.

I still have to have my phone on silent because the message alert tone sends me into paroxysms of fear.

Stupid thing is, as soon as I left college, she started doing the same thing to the only other friend I managed to keep there. Instead of putting up with it and desperately trying to believe that inside Psycho Kerry was a beautiful and worthy soul, she told her to fuck off. It worked.

The moral of the story is: don't be nice to people. Especially crazed lesbian christian types with bomber jackets.

Sorry for length and lack of teh funny- it's my first time!
(herrings, Mon 4 Feb 2008, 0:22, 3 replies)

Wolfy
[EDIT: Light-hearted stalkeration here! I admire anyone who's had a real situation and got through it]

At Sonar Festival 2005 in Barcelona, my friends and I stayed in 3 different hostels in one week. At one of them we were not too far from the beach, and spent a few evenings there. The hostel was shit and wouldn't let you drink there, so we barely spent any time there at all, but what little time we did we managed to attract the attention of some Australian backpacker of about 22.

He was a perfect stereotype, with sandals, surfer beads, lot of Quicksilver/Billabong/Mambo apparel. He had ridiculous sideburns and these huge watery blue eyes that looked like he'd been Mace'd. He may as well have been because it turned out he was a clingy, clingy bastard...he became known as Wolfman due to his Wolverine-esque haircut and sideys.

We're all down the beach and this guy shows up. We all try to be welcoming, but are frankly disappointed at his arrival; he had been bothering us at the hostel and trying to wake us up, trying to convince us to try and sneak him into the festival, yadda yadda. This night, we've just clubbed together and bought €50 of beers between our group of 8 or so, and Wolfy just starts in on them, blathering shit. When he's distracted, we hide the beers post-haste. Then we scatter and pair off, trying to get rid of him some how.

As the evening progresses, he somehow finds the well-stashed beers and gets through ALL of the remainders, stumbling around us as we subtly move further up the beach, hoping to lose him. We politely ask him to cough up some cash for more beer as he's got through most of them, but he says he's broke. Eventually, he passes out on the sand like a snow-angel.

Big mistake. Our friend Guy is seriously pissed at Wolfy and decides to put on a show:
"Oh man, I could really People's Elbow him right now!"
We all laugh, but before we can come to our senses and realise that to do so would mean to wake him up, and that ideally we should just grab our shit and run right now...
...Guy is running back and forth across the breadth of the sand, rebounding off imaginary ropes, finger in the air, whipping his arena of imaginary fans into a frenzy, before plummeting like a jumbo full of elbows down onto Wolfy's chest.

We didn't think he was going to *actually* land on him. But he did. Wolfy doubled up like a bear trap, his watery, under-cooked egg eyes bulging, ready to projectile vomit but just holding it back, winded and paralitic, "HURRRRGH!" Guy's off down the beach, but running back now, crying with laughter, skidding down next to Wolfy: 'Oh sorry mate! That was ME! I fell on you by accident!' And then he's off again, cackling like a camp banshee, sprinting off down the beach, towel in hand.

Well, cue the night from Hell. Wolfy latched onto us, the remaining people, and became a curse. The streets were pretty empty, no taxis around, so we had to walk for miles to get back to the hostel. He spent the whole time stumbling around, demanding more beer, shouting at the top of his voice, following us. He even started trying to crip walk and making gun motions at passing cars- not the best idea in Spain. He screamed at us when we tried to walk faster, then ran all over the roads when a car came by, trying to flag it down, then dancing in front of it. We finally got a taxi, got back to the hostel, where he promptly passed out. We left a porn magazine wide open on his chest for everyone to see and helped ourselves to €20 from his wallet for beers, taxi fare and general cunt-tax.
(Tendency, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 22:57, 2 replies)

Internet weirdness (just general weirdness really)
I thought I had no stories for this QOTW, but I realised while replying to a post further down that I might have a sort of budding stalkerette in the making at this very moment. Things have in no way become freaky yet, but I am beginning to feel a little bit..... observed by my ex wife.

I'm afraid you'll need a back story. I'll do my best to make it brief :P

A few years ago I was married, to a lovely girl as it turned out. It ended when she kicked me out and moved her boyfriend of 4 months in a month later, but I never actually cut off contact with her until I heard she'd told her family and various other folk (mostly whilst pissed up in the local) that I'd been violent and controlling. This was news to me. I had to move in with my parents, having no money and nowhere else to go, and they lived about 200 feet down the road from our lovely marital council house. She IMMEDIATELY moved her boyfriend in as soon as I found out about him, and acted as though this was the most normal thing in the world. I decided, being me, that the best way to deal with it was to stay as far away from her as I could get and get over things in my own time. To be fair to her, I think she pretty much left me alone after a few months too and got on with her life, but I was still dealing with the lies she'd spread 2 years later. She's enough of a headcase in other ways but stalking never seemed to be her style. She tried to contact me twice after I told her to leave me alone(not that she wanted me back.... having arguments with me made her feel wanted I suppose) then seemed to get the message.

All very good. Important you know that, y'see.... no me stalking her, no her stalking me. So far.

My friends and family were great through that time, but I needed an outlet for things. I discovered myspace. I made up a little page, added a few pics, got a few friends, as you do. I started writing the odd blog here and there.... a quick check ensured the ex hadn't discovered myspaz yet (and wasn't likely to, not her thing really, computers) so I could vent all my pent up rage now and again in my blog without incurring a screaming match in the street the next day..... mostly, though, I'd write a lot of nonsense. Over time I developed a little following, got a few nice emails saying I made people smile and so on, made me happy to know that so I kept it up. But Myspace became boring. I was lured to the bright lights and loud noises of Bebo.

I made up my little bebo page to be similar to myspace, but due to bebo being more focused on communicating with people you actually know (rather than people pretending to be celebrities or random people from thousands of miles away, like myspace) I concentrated on that more. I didn't have my little blog following there, but I still wrote them, and some people still read them. I still do.

Then I saw it.

One of my friends had made a NEW friend. It was her. He's a bloody evil genius that guy :P he added her purely to see if I'd notice, and notice I did! Seeing that fucking face grinning out at me from my "changes" list sent a shiver down my spine. I've done a good job of not speaking to/seeing her at all for 3 years now, which isn't easy in a place this size. This was MY fucking playpark and she was muscling in! I soon persuaded myself that she'd probably not even noticed I was there though, made a mental note to keep mention of her out of my blog and that was that.

Of course, I tried to have a look on her page :P You would, wouldn't you? But it was private. So I couldn't. Bastard.

Now, private pages irritate me. I like all and sundry to be able see my horrible little corner of the interweb, so one day I made mention of this on my page. Something like "Private bebo pages get right on my tits", something along those lines, having been denied entry to some pretty little ladies page for the umpteenth time probably (hey, I AM a stalker). Couple of days later, for what reason I don't know, I tried her page again. Bingo! Not private any more. "Heh" thinks I. She must be sneaking a peek at my page. Pah, that's just normal, really, nothing freaky there. I quickly started to notice, though, that many of our mutual friends pages have been getting spammed with messages from her saying how happy she is, "no more mr wrong for me" and the like. I have a sneaking suspicion those messages are meant for my eyes, you know. Plus, my best friend's mum has been being filled in by HER mum (just in passing, you understand) about how her and her new fella just do NOT get on at all, and how she cannot cope with her new baby..... all of which is feverishly relayed back to me of course, whether I want it to be or not. I'm now looking back over the last few seemingly uneventful years... all those times I'd see her dragging her man by the hand past the front of the house (they now live in a different street). The time I saw her in the pub, and she spent the whole night 4 feet away from me hanging out of his mouth. Later that night, having managed to ignore her completely (because I was pissed lolz), she attempted to cuddle me, and then turned the air blue in front of the whole pub when I told her to "fuck off" (the only 2 words I've spoken to her in 3 years)and was dragged out of the pub backwards by her sister screaming "I'm only trying to be fucking nice you fucking wanker". I heard that one split them up for a day too.

Cobbling all these events together, I'm not altogether sure she's quite as finished with the idea of me and her as I am.

I hope I'm wrong and she really is that happy/unhappy (depending on who's telling you) and it isn't for my benefit. Cos the thought of that complete bastard having her eyes set on me again is the most terrifying thing I can imagine, and thats after 3 years of relative singledom.

Apologies for lack of exciting ending, if it turns out my hunch is right, I'll let you know from my hospital bed if I survive the inevitable shoot-out, and of course, apologies for vast length, maybe that's what's drawing her back?
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 22:32, 1 reply)

feel the need
to post as it's my b3ta birthday and i've got a sparkly candle thing.

but i don't really have a right lot to say, having never stalked anyone myself. still, that's never stopped me before, so i'll just talk about the history teacher that i was so much in love with when i was at school.

it's surprising how much info you could get even before the internet. MI5 should hire 15 year old girls. they are masters of espionage. we got his phone number, home address, bank account number, work timetable and all sorts of other things. we didn't do anything with them*, it was just that trying to find out stuff was more exciting than maths homework.

shame the one thing we never worked out was that he was as gay as a window and loved teh cock..... ah well.

* actually, now i come to think of it, I didn't do anything with the info. i knew my friends sam and nick had done something very very Wrong, but it was every day of 10 years later when they admitted they had dared each other to leave messages on his answerphone one day singing "rachelswipe loves you"..... jesus the shame.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 22:25, 5 replies)

everyone has an ex they really, really regret
I think I was just a bit ahead of the game with it being my first real boyfriend. Physical violence, mental, verbal and sexual abuse, a total psychopath. My teenage self didn't have the mental toolkit to deal with it. Eventually, I managed to break it off with him, although it cost me a lot including having to drop out of my A levels (when we'd taken our sixth form options, he'd changed his to match mine so he could 'keep an eye on me'. Everyone thought this was 'sweet').

Anyway, after breaking it off, I'd managed to get into a parallel class for one of my A levels, and in that class I made some new friends. He wasn't having this. He cut his own class in order to hang around at the school where my new class was and wait for me, and started following me from place to place.

I'd told my new friends he was my ex and I didn't want to speak to him, but I was too embarassed to tell them the full story. I don't know if he'd guessed that or not, but when he realised I wouldn't give him a hearing, he started being really nice to my new friends, with the result that more than one of them told me I should go out with him again, give him another chance.

The real fear came when he turned up at the flat where my new mates and I would get together outside school (one of our number was family-less and in a council flat which is exciting when you're 17). Someone let him in and he sat there chatting to everybody... I was terrified. Eventually he left and I finally told everyone the full story. We closed ranks and I thought that was an end of it.

A few days later he must have realised something was amiss because that's when the letters started. The first one, we didn't realise was from him until I'd read it. The next one, I had a suspicion it was from him but read it anyway, which was a stupid thing to do. After that, my Mum suggested to me that there was no point me reading the letters, as they served no purpose but to upset me. We agreed that I would no longer pick up any post from the doormat and that if a letter from him arrived, I didn't even have to know.

He eventually somehow realised that I wasn't reading his letters, and either guessed or found out that (unknown to me) my mother was reading them. So he started writing letters addressed to me but for my mother's benefit, in which he described various nefarious activities that he knew would worry her and make her suspicious of my mates (eg "I'm really worried about you hanging around with [name]. I was watching the two of you taking drugs while you were waiting outside the probation office for [another name] and I think you're getting in over your head..."). Happily my mother trusted me enough, and was getting to know my friends well enough, to realise this was utter bollocks.

You know what's really pathetic? The way it stopped. Given the level of violence I had known him to be capable of, I was terrified of getting the police involved in case he followed through on previous threats of what he'd do to me if I told anyone. I looked at him and saw a strong, scary and unpredictable nutter.

My Mum, on the other hand, looked at him and saw an overgrown little boy trying to act big by pushing other people around, including her precious daughter. So she acted in an incredibly parent-y way.

She phoned his dad.

His dad was both bigger and stronger than he was. It worked.
( Batsgirl, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 22:12, 6 replies)

The Lesbian Stalker
Oh god.

Back story: I should mention that I am a chick. Back when I was in my first year of high school, I had the job of showing the "new girl" around, and we became best-friends-by-default. I thought she was kinda lame, but she always hung around me, followed me, and split her lunch with me. I moved away at the end of the year. It wasn't until over a year later that she told me that she had been in love with me, and cried herself to sleep for a month after I left. I had to do the awkward "um, thanks" response to that.

Now I thought this "in love with you" thing was past-tense, so I managed to totally block the "creepy stalker" thing out of my memory. When I moved back to the area for college, she came to spend the night at my house. She spent the whole night trying to get into my pants, and I slept with my door locked.

I spent the next two days in a state of shock. I started to connect the dots, and realized that she had broken up with her boyfriend of three years within a month of when I moved back. She was one of few people that knew I was having some trouble with an eating disorder, and she seemed to be seeking approval by talking about how she had lost soooo much weight after the break-up, and so on.

I started avoiding her from there on out. One of our old mutual friends had since become the Lesbian Stalker's mortal enemy, and she passed on a lot of creepy information from the LS's ex-boyfriend. Gems include:

- She started copying my fashion and habits, and started cutting herself because she knew I was depressed.

- The time that she said that her boss at Longs Drugs was hitting on her, and made some comment about it being weird because he was 37 (she was 19). I made a joke along the lines of "37? But that's when men hit their peak!" Next thing I know, she's sleeping with him despite his girlfriend.

- The time she said that some guy on myspace was hitting on her, but she didn't like him because he was balding. I saw that he listed scrabble as an interest, and like the nerd I am, I made a joke along the lines of "if you don't, I will!" Next thing I know, word on the streets is that she met some older guy off of myspace and blew him.

- Okay, there are about thirty more of these stories, basic formula is that she didn't like someone until I approved of them, at which point she boinked them. And because I'm a bad person, she's slept with half of California.

- Non-related to the stalking, but gross nonetheless: she got a yeast infection and didn't know what it was. She decided to do nothing about it. Her boyfriend was nice enough to look it up for her and find out what she needed to do about it. She decided to continue to do nothing about it, instead opting to wear pads on a daily basis to deal with "leakage."

I'll give you a moment to gag.

- Since we had kept in touch by snail mail, I would occasionally throw in notes on random things like doilies or candy wrappers. Years later, her boyfriend found a candy wrapper in her drawer and asked if he could throw it away. "NO! Alison gave it to me!"

Egads. Apologies for length and all, but there are about eighteen level of creepiness that I couldn't even touch on here.
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 22:01, Reply)

Oh come on...
It's not stalking when it's true love and you're meant to be together...
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Sun 3 Feb 2008, 21:59, 3 replies)

Messed up reply
Oooer, messed up... this was supposed to be a reply.

Hmm... better write something eh...


I once made out with a tranny. Now, i DIDNT KNOW SHE WAS A MAN!!! S/He was hot, at least in my drunken state i assumed she was hot, i macked with her. S/he macked with me. Then i felt something... and i have no other word to describe this: Twitch.

I said, what was that... s/he mumbled something about having parts from both...


I considered the options, do i go ahead, or not...

I concluded the idea was nasty as fuck and ran like the clappers.


*shudders*

Length? Im fucking glad i never found out!
(Pointless as a chavs bathroom, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 21:45, 2 replies)

Made for me....
Oh, where to begin?

Perhaps with the mad stalky bird. Yeah, that'd be a good place. I'm known for doing dumb stuff. But this one takes the biscuit. Factory.

I'd just been sued for divorce. The ex had moved out, leaving me lonely. So off I went to work again. I turn up to one site, and end up talking to the younger of the two women who looked after the computers. And we end up talking about random stuff, and somehow the topic of tattoos come up. She flutters her eyelids and mentions that she has a tattoo. And this is where I make a big big mistake. An Error with a capital "ERR". I ask her, flirtatiously, what she's doing that night, implying that I'd like to look for the tattoo. She mentions that she's washing her hair. OK, that's me, spurned as usual. I head back to the office, and check in. The salescritter there asks how I'd got on with this person. I mentioned that we'd got on OK. He points out that I'd asked her out and been turned down. "WTF?" I think. He tells me that she's single. I didn't wonder how he knew... but I should have done. So, I ended up calling her (the salescritter *just* *happened* to have her number) and we make a date.

And out we go. I was a bit nervous, as this was my first date since the whole breakup of marriage thing. Actually, we had an OK time. So we decide to meet up again. We go out a couple of times. A couple of odd things happen... we arranged to go out one night, but I was delayed in traffic, as this was when I used to travel. Cue one batshit stamping escapade. Oh.

As you do when going out with someone, we used to sleep together. Only, without fail, every time we did it (after the first time), she'd complain that I made her feel like a prostitute. To be fair, we were in a bit of a rut - she'd come to mine, we'd shag, then she'd go. She never ever stayed over in all the time we were together. She sometimes came over at a weekend, but she hated that too. It was kind of odd, but I thought that I'd put up with worse off the ex-wife, so how bad could it be...? Oh, if only I'd known.

There was the time she went absolutely batshit at someone in a pub, when they... asked her how old Demigod was. That was the first time she stamped out, threatening to have me beaten up. I kind of hid for a while. Then I got a really shouty sweary phone call about "some fucking boyfriends fucking phone their fucking girlfriends". Er, yeah, I guess, but she'd said she never wanted to come anywhere near me ever again, so I'd assumed I was chucked. Apparently not. Then I had to meet her Mom. In hospital. Um, not much you can say about that, except her Mom spent the visit telling me how fat she'd been... and she spent the next two hours swearing about her Mom being jealous of her perfect size 8 body. Or whatever it was.

She'd regularly lose it when I was away. Which was a bit whole lot, seeing as I travelled for work. I seem to remember a whole set of really upset text messages... so I called her. And then got texts about "don't fucking phone me when I'm upset". Er, OK. Whatever. From then on, I didn't. Did I mention that "Some fucking boyfriends fucking phone their fucking girlfriends". Oh yeah, I may have done. I can't really remember what triggered the final argument. She threw stuff at me, and stamped out. Then I had a text message saying that she'd really fucked things up. I said that I didn't think that we should see each other any more, and she agreed. "Phew," I thought. Oh, then she called and asked me if I still wanted the DVD player that she'd agreed with my brother that I needed. I politely asked her to return it.

Therein lies my mistake. This is when the trouble started. Over the next day, I had three death threats off members of her family. They left their names, which was nice. Then she started with the abusive text messages. One night, she did really well - I got 24 messages, of which about six were death threats. Of course, she knew where I lived, and where little one went to nursery, where I worked, and a bunch of other things. And the messages kept on rolling in. I lost count at six hundred abusive messages. They got eerily specific. At one point, the salescritter referred to above asked me how I was. I mentioned that I was really down, really upset, and thinking about jacking my job in and moving away. Twenty minutes later, I got a death threat off her, and a message along the lines of "Yeah, fuck off down there, they deserve you". And still I didn't get it... Then the emails started. All she had was my work email address, so I got death threats and swearing through that too. Great, as my work email was closely monitored, which she knew. At some point, she was swapping from emails to texts and back again. Some of them were dead odd - apparently she and her new bloke had had to go for AIDS tests, as she was afraid that I had caught it and given it to her. Um, no. Honest.

I honestly didn't realise how hard this could be. I was literally afraid to go near my phone, and I would have binned it, but it was my only contact with people. I still now sometimes worry when my phone goes. I had to delete texts twice a day, just in case one came in that I wanted. It went on and on. My family told me not to be so stupid, and asked how bad could it be? Um, really bad?

One interesting thing, of course, is that being as she and I were going out, she knew about one of my 'lifestyle choices'. One which my company would probably take a very dim view of, being rabidly ultra-conservative. So she used that as a threat, just as a change from the death threats.

In the end, I couldn't take any more. I deleted all the text from one of her emails, and forwarded it back to her company (bright, eh?), telling them to unsubscribe me from the mailing list I seemed to be on. I called my mobile company and asked for a new number. Turns out you need a crime number for that, so I had to report it to the police. I got my crime number, begged them not to do anything, and got a new number. Salescritter had left by this time, and so all seemed to go quiet. But I still got the occasional email... In the end I was made redundant and got a new job. It's finally over. It lasted for four years, and was pretty fucking awful all that time.

Oh, turns out her ex was the salescritter - which is how he had her number, how he knew she was single, and how she knew what I was doing, and how I was feeling. Yes, I am REALLY FUCKING STUPID for not working that one out sooner.

Sorry for lack of teh funneh, but there really isn't any. It feels better to have talked about it though. If you've made it this far, thanks for listening, and I appreciate you.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 21:18, 3 replies)

A few summers ago...
I used to work in a garden centre earning cider notes in the garden furniture department.

It was often outside, a bit of physical lifting & a real no-brainer with routine : Walk in, chat to reception crumpet, walk back & forward from warehouse to sales floor etc.

After 3 months I left, financially boyant & with the reception-crumpet on my arm.

Reminiscing with her the other day it comes out that she used to obsessively follow me with the CCTV cameras from her desk all day long- from the moment my car pulled up, to the moment it sped out off site in the evening, zooming when I was static building furniture & nervously tracking when I momentarily crossed between cam zones.

She's a great girl though and we are still together now- so without giving hope to all you weirdos out there- stalking isn't all bad!
( the dalai farmer always likes tea, but especially on, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 21:18, Reply)

Psycho skank
When I was about 14, I had a weird neighbour who became obsessed with me for some bizarre reason, still unknown....she was in her early 20's with 2 kids already and was a skanky reprobate no-gooder.

Luckily she moved away from not long after me realising she was a weird, however I started to receive letters every other day, phone calls at my part time job, she even managed to get my dad's mobile number to try and speak to me.

We scared her away in the end by threatening her with police action, luckily she left me well alone from then.

The skank wanted me to father her children. I was 14 and innocent then, so wouldn't have known where to put it anyway, and if i did it would have rotted off from her surely infected gash
(Eeevil You are losers, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 20:49, Reply)

I live on the 4th floor of a fairly unpopulated dorm...
and apparently I'm being stalked.

evidence a: someone was in the bathroom when i was showering.. just chilling in the bathroom the entire time.. i originally thought they were just.. having "trouble" or something, but as soon as i turned the water off they like... bolted out of there... without washing their hands or anything, if I remember correctly.

evidence b: someone has been writing shit on my door, and no one has owned up to it. Most recent offence said "poop nugget"

evidence c: i hear people outside my door talking about me..including "i wonder where logan is today" (likely referring to a thing on my board that points to my relative location)

evidence d: my friend left my room to go to the bathroom a couple nights ago and this guy was standing RIGHT at the door and ran into another room. I asked her what was going on and she said this guy looked startled and embarassed.

Perhaps he wants my swiss cake rolls.
(evillttlimp is a Ladytron. No seriously she has a suit., Sun 3 Feb 2008, 20:43, Reply)

I'm being stalked by email
by someone who's obsessed with my penis. The strange thing is that they think it's too small.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 20:10, 3 replies)

This scares me less than it probably should
During the first year of uni, when me and the man-beast didn't actually know each other at all, despite being on the same course, I was doing a project that involved weird abstract photos of yours truly in the buff (yes I'm an art student, what of it). Nothing shocking exactly, in a couple of the photos you could see what looked like it might be a nipple, that sort of thing. Towards the end of uni, we had been out drinking/to house parties together a few times, and had agreed to live together in a large shared house, and pretty much a week after handing in all our first year projects, we were doing the nasty, and then moved in together and were very cuddly and nice, as is the situation now, 2 years later.
Flashback to the abstract nakedity project of first year, when I recall two of the best photos got lost. I didn't think anything of it at the time, as they were just going in my sketchbook anyway.
Mention it to the boyfriend, who mumblingly admits to stealing them out of my studio while I was away, as "you can see your boobs and stuff and I really liked you". I thought this was really adorable, then I realised that at the time of this project, I had only said 'hi' to him a few times and had had one proper conversation with him.... this now crosses the border from 'cute' to just plain creepy. If this had been any other man at uni other than the one I am currently doing, I would have probably have left the country by now.
(Ryuken-Kai, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 18:23, 3 replies)

Creepy fisherman stalker
3 weeks ago, I had a nasty accident while fileting a trout. Filet knives are very very sharp and the result was 36 stitches in my arm.
The day after the accident, but completely unrelated, my husband and I decided to call it quits and two weeks ago I moved into my own apartment. Now, when you only have the use of one arm because you can't feel or move the other one, moving house becomes a bit of a logistical problem.

My friends rallied round, and more so did the members of my fishing team and they all moved me in within the weekend - including going out and buying furniture for me and putting it together etc. All I had to do was provide the alcohol, money and shopping lists.

One guy, who wants to be on the Team, was also very helpful - he figured if he does this then maybe those in charge will let him join us. Every fucking day he calls and emails me now, asking if I need anything, do I need my dressings changed, do I need help with physical therapy. It sounds nice, but I just broke up with my husband, this kid is only 19 (I'm 33) and he talks about us as if we're a couple and as if he's going to spend the rest of his life with me!
I'm allowed to start fishing again next weekend and my team are organizing a "welcome back" bbq at the lake. This kid has not been invited, so now he's calling the lake managers asking to be put on the list because he's worried about how I'll manage and he doesn't think I'm ready to be doing it!

He just called while I was writing this 'cos he was pissed I didn't invite him to my housewarming last night!

Length? 3 1/2 inches wide and cut down to the muscle. Pictures are available upon request. Picture in the reply
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 18:13, 9 replies)

I was the 'psycho ex'.
When I look back on the spring of 2006, it seems quite clear to me now that something quite important in my brain had snapped. I could blame a combination of copious amounts of pot and my then-girlfriend cheating on me with my then-flatmate, combined with the pressures of university. Whatever caused it, I can now see that I was not of particularly sound mind.

My mental condition was not helped by my ex, who was determined to keep me in her life and called me nearly every night to tell me how badly my former flatmate was treating her; apparently it was a surprise that someone who would screw over a friend had no qualms in messing her about. Anyway, I digress. This story is about the time I got caught stalking.

I'm not too bad with computers- I'd probably describe myself as a 'power-n00b'. She had a Livejournal in which she would write things about him, me and the others. I, of course, just HAD to know, even though the old adage about evesdroppers not hearing nice things about themselves would frequently ring true.

I knew her password, so I'd log in once in a while and see what she was saying. Seemed harmless enough, and I became a little bit hooked on reading what was basically her diary.

(As I write this, I am cringing. That part of my life was a very low ebb. This is cathartic.)

Then, one day, she called me up. Angrily, she demanded to know why I'd been reading her private Livejournal entries. I denied all knowledge.

At this point, my main computer was a first generation iBook- one of the ones that looked a bit VTech. It was too slow to reasonably run OS X, so I was running a stripped down Debian install.

I had no idea that Livejournal records logins, complete with browser, operating system and CPU architecture.

Needless to say, when she presented me with a login header that read 'Firefox, Debian, PPC' I had no choice but to 'fess up. I felt a bit like a burglar who had dropped his driver's license at the scene of the crime.

We stopped talking after that- *I* wouldn't have stayed friends with me after that- and I gradually sorted myself out. I'm a lot more normal these days, but thinking back on the time makes me think- we all walk a fine social line, and it can only take a little push before we find ourselves changing routines and aspects of our lives to keep abreast of someone who would rather we stayed away.

Apologies for length and lack of humour. I feel a little better now :)
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 17:19, 3 replies)

Stalking from your own armchair
My mate used to be in the army dozens of years ago, but a couple of years ago (at the time of this tale) was working as a transport manager for a frozen goods company.

One customer he dealt with on the phone would have a laugh and a joke, and once he found out my mate was an ex squaddie always used to comment along the lines of 'You and your SAS mates aren't going to come round to mine in the small hours are you? HA ha ha ha ha ha ha etc.

The first few times were reasonably funny, but after a few months this got a bit boring, so my mate decided to do a bit of online searching. He knew the guys name, and guessed the town he worked at was the one he lived in, so decided to do a search using 192.com. Bingo! Up came not only his name, but his wifes name, his daughters name, his address....shitloads of personal stuff. (Note, you now have to pay for this full service, but it gave out mine, my wife and daughters name for free just now)

Armed with this info, he hit google earth.

Next time he got the 'SAS mates' routine he replied ' We already have.....hows your wife Janet*? I must say i like your back garden, that rockery at the bottom is very nice. Although you might like to keep an eye out on that tree next door, its very close to your fence. You wouldn't want your Amy* to walk into a low branch'

He swears blind he heard the sound of a nervous fart at that point. 'Eeerrrm. How do you know all that?'

'He who dares wins, my son. And I dared'

'Well.....make sure the delivery is on time tomorrow. Oh, i've got to go, someone in the office is calling me'

Turns out he shit himself, literally, for the next week, until my mate came clean. He stopped saying it after that though.

_{*Names made up, as I'm not that anal i can remember them. Jesus, what do you think i am, some kind of memory man}
(turtles head is touching cloth poked a dwarf on the forehead at, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 16:19, Reply)

this horrible goth girl
used to turn up to my work, and just stare at me. For literally hours. It almost made me quit the Cure.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 15:16, 5 replies)

Remembered Another
Anyone who travels on buses in Newport will know of Crazy Val. A large, ageing Welsh woman who sounds remarkably like Mrs Doubtfire (but, erm, Welsh).
Anyhoo, Val will talk to literally ANYONE and is known by all of the drivers due to the fact that she travels the buses back and forth all day, every day, only pausing to find some form of junk food.

My first experience with her occured when innocently waiting at the busstop listening to my iPod and then to suddenly have 'Lovecats' interrupted by her talking to me.

Val: 'Scuse me, love, are you a uni student?
Me: Yes, yes i am. Why do you ask?
Val: I just thought i'd tell you that there's loads of good sweet shops up near there

I then found my journey soundtracked by Val's favourite sweets for 20 minutes. Twas a relief when my stop approached and I could make a swift exit.

It didn't end there though, that was just the beginning. She chatted to me again (about where to get the best sweets) when I was with my lovely girlfriend, who she has now decided to stalk as well. Scary Shit.

After a year and a half of this, I can bear it. Val is harmless and just a bit lonely so I feel that i'm doing a good deed by listening to her ramblings, even though I just nod and agree with her.

She still freaks my girlfriend out but I don't mind, I know where the best sweet shops are.
(WillyNilly SillyBilly, Sun 3 Feb 2008, 14:03, Reply)