Ever feel like you're being stalked?

I once had a mother who was a little too interested in my life after I wrote a story about her daughter.

She would call just to talk and had sent me a couple of uncomfortable "Thinking of you" cards. It was a bit strange but didn't have a sexual feel to it.

She did get me into a bit of hot water with my girlfriend (now wife) however, when she sent me an email saying that someone from her church had seen me with a "hot blonde downtown" ... it took me a while to convince my gf/wife looking over my shoulder - who was strawberry blonde at the time - that she was the hot blonde in question ...

What's especially odd is that we were living in a city at the time and all these people seemed to know me and I wouldn't be able to pick them out in a lineup ... all the more incentive to keep my nose clean even when I wasn't working. You never know who's watching.

 

I've never felt like I was being stalked. I've had people much too comfortable around me - that's too much already - but it never got to the stalking extreme, thank goodness.

 

I was feeling especially good one day as I had an A-1 story and two bylines on the sports front that day. Got a call from a high school friend.

I assumed he was calling to congratulate me.

No, he wanted to know if I still worked at the newspaper because he wanted to get a listing in for his rec league football team.

Ah, the power of the press.

 

Apparently not, look in hte NHSF record book and the girl is in there.

 

It does bother me sometimes when I'm walking around town and people who I don't know call me by name. It's not that eerie, but I feel really bad that I haven't got the slightest clue who they are.

On a positive note along this line, I was in a car accident recently (no injuries) and I noted it on my blog as a reason I hadn't posted at a regular time. It was nice to see how many people asked me about it or joked about it with me the next night - both people I knew and didn't know. Proof positive the blog has great readership I guess.

But on the other hand, I've also had people talk to me about my stories who I'm sure had no idea I wrote them or knew anything about what I wrote. Humbling sometimes, I guess.

 

That's always awkward.
I can rattle off how many yards little Johnny Jumpingback ran for in a game in 2002, but I'm horrible about putting faces to names. Every now and then I'll see someone in the supermarket or on the street and have to do the "Hey...man, how's it going?" thing. Meanwhile, they're going on and on like we're best friends. I wonder if they catch on that I have no idea who the hell they are until they mention their name or something jogs my memory, and if they're pissed about it. And then afterward, it's a little embarrassing, especially when it happens with little kids.
I wonder if there are therapists for this sort of thing?

 

Hell, I can't even remember names of people I'm supposed to know.

 

At my 20th high school reunion, a classmate told me that she liked reading my stuff every week in the paper; thing was, I hadn't written for the paper in three years and had lived out of state for two years.

 

Man, I get that stuff all the time. Most often: "You still working at the Podunk Press?" And the Podunk press was literally five jobs and more than TWENTY years ago.

The mitigating circumstance -- a former colleague, who still DOES work at the Podunk Press, frequents the same bar. And while we look or act nothing alike, people still associate me with the PP because of him, for some reason.

 

My first job was at the local paper in the city where I grew up. Even now, when I run into old friends and classmates, they ask if I still write for the paper. Sorry, no, I was laid off in 1995 and the paper folded in 1998.

 

This ain't stalking, but makes me feel weird every time it happens. And for those of you bitching about high school parents, you can relate here for sure.

After a big game, I'm on the field interviewing a player or two. Then a mom comes down on the field with her point-and-shoot camera to take a picture of their kid getting interviewed by the local sports writer hack.

This happens often, but it happened once here recently and I was done with the interview (the kid gave me a great quote right out of the gates). As soon as I saw mom with the camera, I wished the kid luck, thanked him for speaking with me and bolted. Then the mom screamed "hey I wasn't done taking my picture." I just kept walking. She comes up to me, busting through a throng of folks to do it, and says, "I wanted to get a picture of little Johnny talking to you."

This has always kind of pissed me off, so I say sternly to the bitch, without raising my voice: "I'm here working. I am not here for your amusement or your family photograph collection. And I don't know why you'd want a picture of me talking to your kid anway. Do you realize I make like six dollars an hour? I'm a nobody and most newspaper readers hate me. I'm a washed-up, no talent hack working in an industry that's going to shit thanks to the internet and all the suits' incompetence to do anything about it. Go take a picture of somebody else, because I'm trying to do my job."

She didn't say anything, she just looked stunned. Later that day, I went home and jerked off thinking about the stunned expression on her face. She was pretty hot for a 40-year old mom. Nothing gave me more glee than telling her off.

 

Do you no longer live in that town? I would have called the cops as soon as I got home. Don't even ask them to do anything. Just have it on record what the guy did in case he ever tries it again.

If there is ever a real stalking case and you need the help of the police, you want EVERYTHING on the record.