How to Meet a Stalker

By Rochelle Taylor

Clubs are interesting places. Girls dress in skimpy clothes, insanely high heels that make their feet hurt halfway through the line, and too much makeup. Their low-cut shirts, short, skin-tight skirts, and shiny jewelry are all carefully considered to determine which combination will draw the most male attention. The males, on the other hand, don’t spend nearly as much time worrying about how they look. Jeans, button-down shirts, shoes, gel in the hair and they are good to go.

These people all get together and stand in a ridiculously long line in order to pay a bulky man at the front door their hard-earned money. They then try to make their way to bar where they overpay for watered-down alcoholic beverages so they can have an excuse to lose their inhibitions later that night. These lucky people then stand around trying to look indifferent in hopes of attracting a member of the opposite sex without appearing to be too interested.

Despite my better judgment, the other night I went forth into the jungle in an effort to have fun with some friends. And, amazingly enough, I did. I danced with a couple of guys, I danced with my girls, I had some margaritas.

Then came my opening with the guy I had been making eye contact with all night. We were both at the bar, and I made a random comment to him that made him laugh. We began talking (if you can call shouting over the pounding beat of the music talking). Then we started dancing. Then we started dancing closer. Soon enough, you could not tell where one of us stopped and the other began. Lips brushed necks and ears and cheeks. Then we started kissing. We were virtually having sex while standing up (and fully clothed).

But, my friends were ready to leave. Luckily, I had prepared myself for just such an incident by refusing to shave my legs. This age-old trick ensured that I would not go home with the boy, despite his pleas. I gave him my phone number and went on my merry way, not thinking much of it. I figured I had seen the last of him, since he was apparently just looking for a one-night stand.

But, much to my surprise, he called the very next morning just as I got to work. I did not pick up, as I did not have time to talk to him. He left an entirely normal message, throwing in bits of our conversation from the previous night to ensure that I knew who he was.

After work, I returned two other voice mails I had received first. While I was on the phone with one of my girlfriends, he called again. After I got off the phone with her, I listened to the second voice mail he had left. He mentioned his name and number and where I had met him the night before. But then, it got creepy.

He said “I hope you remember me. I have called you twice now and you haven’t called me back. I just want to see if you are willing to finish what you started.” Hello, stalker. This guy had just committed every sin that any female has ever been accused of. He was clingy, needy and demanding. He called twice in less than eight hours. Every rule of dating had officially been broken.

Yet, somehow, I was motivated to call him. I was afraid that if I didn’t, my voice mail would be full in a week. I knew that it was the only way to stop him from continually calling.

Luckily, when I called, he seemed quite normal. He apologized that he had forgotten that I had to work so late. And, he even invited me on a perfectly normal date. I accepted graciously. I shall see if he exhibits further stalker behavior. Maybe to play it safe, I should meet him in public for our first date. No need to show stalker boy where I live…