I never thought it would happen to me — I thought I was above the whole “obsessed with guys” thing, but I was wrong. One minute I was just casually into a guy and the next I was like a full-blown paparazzo, stalking his every move. I’m not proud of it and I eventually got a grip, but I have to admit I was scary as hell for awhile.
- Social media made it too easy. Not mentioning any names but certain sites do make it very easy to stalk… err, follow people. Regardless of which platform you use and how well you think you have your privacy settings in place, there’s always a way. It doesn’t take much of an imagination to create new profiles as your old ones are discovered, photos can be sourced or Photoshopped and voila — you have yourself a whole new personality to play with… but you didn’t hear that from me.
- Any friend of his was a friend of mine. The quickest way to understand and learn new things about someone is to speak to their friends. Provided they haven’t already been tipped off about who you are, these are the go to people for all the inside goss. I didn’t care that they thought I was weird as hell or a stalker — I got the info I wanted, and that’s what mattered.
- I made constant detours to go by his house. How many times did I drive out of my way so that I conveniently had to drive past his house/work/hangout/second cousin’s brother’s mother’s place (because my ‘source’ told you they were there) just so you could catch a glimpse? When I lost count, I knew I’d crossed the line.
- I got hung up on way too many times. When Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone, I don’t think nuisance phone calls were what he had in mind. Stalker 101 should have told me this was the most basic (and traceable) form of one-sided communication. In fact, some people call it harrassment… but to-may-to, to-mah-to.
- I sent “accidental” texts totally on purpose. For every girl who’s ever sent a text or email then claimed they had sent it to the wrong person and you have absolutely no idea how it got in their hands, back it up! If you’re going to stalk, at least own it — don’t sink to pitiful levels by adding lying to it. I’ve done this crap and while I’m not proud, I can’t deny that it happened.
- I could recall literally every word we ever exchanged. I can replay conversations in my head because I know word for word every single conversation we’ve ever had and a few that he didn’t know that I know about. To be honest this area is a little grey. Perhaps I just have an amazing memory and I’m not really the stalker that daytime TV tells me I am.
- I knew his schedule better than I knew my own. I know, I know — I was out of control. Not only had I crossed a line, I jumped over it, then ran back to smudge it out with my foot. Most people run into trouble on this point. If you’re sweating on why he hasn’t shown to his usual Tuesday night badminton game, then you have a problem. Trust me, I’ve been there.
- I showed up to places unannounced, uninvited and often unseen. A romantic date with a stroll in the moonlight is only romantic if he knows you’re there. If you have to run along behind 50 feet away, ducking behind trees in your socks because shoes make too much noise, you’re probably not invited. No, your invitation wasn’t lost. No, he didn’t suddenly receive a blow to the head and have amnesia so he didn’t know where to find you. Ice that cupcake anyway you’d like, it isn’t going to get any sweeter. Just no!
