Another weekend’s coming up, time when our stalkers come out to play and make our lives even more fucked up than they already are. Now don’t laugh. You don’t have to be God’s Gift to Gaydom to have someone like you – really like you – I mean REALLY like you – even if you don’t like him. You only gotta be what your stalker thinks God’s Gift to Gaydom should be like. And for him, that’s you.
Sex stalkers can be just a plain pain in the ass or they can be down right dangerous. The problem is not being able to tell when A may morph into B.
My dime store analysis is that stalkers are pretty insecure individuals, insecure about their own potentials and limitations, and grossly immature when it comes to dealing with people. But you can also have the power freaks who think they’re so great how could anyone, especially their idol, refuse them. Power freaks can’t understand when no means no, not yes or, well, O.K., maybe.
Hell, we’ve all had our crushes on guys and couldn’t let go, but sooner or later we learn the number one lesson when it comes to relationships, straight or gay. If somebody doesn’t want you, chances are all the effort in the world isn’t going to change his mind. Or if he has a weak moment and finally succumbs to your advances, one of two things happens: you either realize he’s a mere mortal who farts between fucks, or you get burnt in the end because in the end, even if you and he get into some kind of fucked up relationship, he can’t keep up the charade.
The harmless variety of stalker includes those guys who hit you again and again and again on the web or in a bar or on the beach who when you show no response fade back into the woodwork only to crop up two weeks or two months later as if they had dementia.
But the ones that scare me are the guys who you very nicely and very diplomatically tell ten ways to Sunday that you’re not interested but instead of telling you to go fuck yourself and move on, they e you a two page fantasy script of what you’re going to do to them in bed. Those are the ones I always fear may go postal; remember, there’s only a precum drop of difference between pure love and pure hate. Like one day when you’re broiling yourself on the beach with some buds, he shows up and wipes out all four lounge chairs with his semi. (“If I can’t have you, nobody will!”) Blood on that $40 bikini you wore for the first time. What a waste of good spandex.
The biggest mistake guys can do is either try to be nice and unintentionally lead the guy on that there’s still a glimmer of hope, or tell the guy to stand in the middle lane of the closest four lane highway and wait for a Mack truck to hit him. Either way, you’re showing feelings toward him, even if they’re negative.
No, my advice is simply ignore. If they e you, don’t response. If they voice mail or text you, delete. If they harangue you on the web, block them. And if they wait for you in the ten items or less aisle at the supermarket, give ’em a quick, “hey,” and move on like you had to take a hot shit.
The best thing you can do is to do nothing at all.
The same holds true for ex-flames you want out of your life.