Stalkers

Stalkers

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. Only 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, he don’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 succumb 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 he gets into some kind of fucked up relationship with you, 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 again two weeks or two months later as if they had dementia. Even after you tell them you’re looking for your clone and they ain’t it.

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 sell you a two page fantasy script of what you’re going to do to them in bed.

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 Mac 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.

That is unless he publicly manhandles you as happened to me recently with a guy who I knew from the gym and driven by lust, desperation or a couple of beers literally accosted me a few weekends ago at Lauderdale’s leather bar, the Ramrod. Sticking his hand down my jeans, he kept telling me how much he wanted me as I repeatedly told him he wasn’t my type, smiled politely and moved away, trying not to  make a scene. Making a scene maybe is what I should have done, but that could have led to some mayhem that would have led to us both being eighty-sixed from the bar or worst some fist fight confrontation in the parking lot.

But I’ll tell you one thing: the next time I see him in the gym and he ignores me out of embarrassment or anger, I’m going to walk up to him and tell him to fuck off – with a smile on my face of course.

 


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