Unstoppable: Stalkers Are Not Cool
One new message, my phone message box reported. One new message, from the Stalker. Yep, she's officially been bumped straight up to a capitalized Stalker. I bet she's proud. Luckily I wasn't here to take the message, and least she hasn't done any nonsense like filled the thing up. On the other hand, if she'd left a hundred messages I imagine it would be easier to get the police to slap a restraining order on her. What sort of disturbed individual keeps after someone after months of no talking, with no relationship in place whatsoever, seeking some sort of pathetic justification for their misplaced craziness by asking their object of fixation to tell them to go away constantly? Thank god she hasn't got my email addresses that I actually use, though I imagine it's possible she's piled it onto some of my older addresses and the ones that use my real name. People, let's just say it again. If you haven't met someone, and by haven't met I mean never seen them face to face, you don't have any legitimate excuse to fixate on someone. People are anonymous on the internet, most of us prefer things that way. While it may be amusing to Google up a websearch on someone and do a little sleuthing to find out someone's real name, that knowledge isn't an invitation to call someone up on the telephone. At the end of her most recent spewing in snail mail she said something about "hoping that I didn't forget about her". Fuck. I wish. She's like a herpes sore.