This is not my story. This happened to Grandmasterfluffles.
However, she's stupidly busy at the moment, and doesn't have time to post it, but I think it's a tale that should be told...

"It's a scenario which, sadly, I'm sure is all too familiar to 99.9% of women. You're walking alone and you become aware that a man is following you. Your pace quickens. So does his. You imagine all the hideous scenarios that might ensue in the next few minutes. Perhaps you call a friend, but there's nothing that he can do other than to reassure you on the phone. You're alone, with a man following you.

My mother always used to tell me when I was younger that if this ever happened to me, I was to knock on the nearest door, where the owner of the house would almost certainly allow me to use their phone and to stay there until someone came to pick me up. Clearly the best possible advice for a twelve-year-old schoolgirl, but not a viable course of action for a fully-grown woman unless in a truly desperate situation.

This has happened to me so many times. On many of these occasions, I'm sure that there was nothing to it - the man just happened to be walking behind me and my imagination ran away with me. On other occasions there was definitely more to it than that. There was an incident only a few weeks ago when I was on the tube. The man sitting opposite me attempted to chat me up, I told him all about the imaginary boyfriend that I acquire in such situations* but he wouldn't give up, so I started pretending to text someone [I have discovered that this is by far the best way of getting unwanted intruders, lecherous or otherwise, to leave you alone]. Rather than leaving me alone however, he stared at me. This doesn't sound too bad in itself, but just imagine it - being resolutely stared at, constantly, even as you shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoid eye contact as much as possible, and scowl when you do make eye contact. The man then got up and moved to a seat diagonally behind me. Great, I thought - he's got the message. But no, he continued staring, and staring, and staring. A couple of stops later, he got off the train. My relief however was short-lived as he got straight back on again when he thought I wasn't looking, and ducked into a seat out of my line of sight. He wanted me to think he'd got off the train. Luckily I was on my way to my parents' house so I phoned my mum and got her to pick me up from the station."

That story scares the crap out of me...
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Thu 7 Feb 2008, 11:14, 1 reply)

.
She's not so stupidly busy that she didn't have time to reply to Rachelswipe's post though, above.
What a swizz.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 7 Feb 2008, 12:31, closed)