Wednesday, 9 January 2013

My Life in Stalkers 3 - Psycho One-Date Man

Apologies to those who've read my old blog, as they lived through this particular stalk as it happened, in 2010.

I was about to write that this stalker started out as a normal date, but that isn't strictly true - he was a bit odd from the get-go and I totally missed the warning signs. Which is a bit worrying, as I'd been with Steve for almost four years by this time - we were on one of our 'breaks' - by which I mean I had broken up with him, and my nights were not my own because he'd be coming around, throwing stones at my window, wanting to talk to me, begging me to take him back. While he was with someone else, of course.

I was out for lunch with Sue and her daughter, and whilst I was at the bar, a girl in her early twenties came over and asked could she have my phone number for her dad :-O Hmmmm. We chatted for a short time, although at this point I said I thought it was a bit odd, as most men would wait a while before introducing a woman to their children - this was kind of the reverse situation. So eventually I went over and spoke briefly to her dad, he was my age (but I didn't let this put me off), came from Wolverhampton, was a landscape gardener, seemed ok, so I thought why not?

So two days later he phoned and we agreed to go out on the following Sunday, as I was busy until then. Have to say, I already had reservations, because he seemed to keen, and in my mind keenness reminded me of how Steve had been when we first met. Plus I didn't think I fancied this Dad bloke, but I thought I might as well give him a chance.

Sunday rolled along, and I went to meet him in the car park at a nearby pub. At first, I thought he wasn't there, but it turned out that he WAS there - in this broken-looking white van that I had assumed someone had abandoned in the corner of the car park.

Off we set in this death-trap, with him driving in a way as to fulfill every white-van-man stereotype you could care to mention. I was sitting there trying to breathe as little as possible and through my mouth. I still kind of thought I could taste dog and sweat.

We got to a pub, eventually, thank God, and I was able to breathe normally again. He bought the drinks and we were having a nice chat until he turned the conversation to my last relationship, which wasn't really something I wanted to talk about.

'Oh, he was an arse, he was abusive, there was a lot of violence, we've split up now, end of story really.'

'Oooh, that's terrible, I can't stand men like that, I'm not like that AT ALL. With me, what you see is what you get, I treat women right, I'd never lay a hand on them.....' and on it went for a good ten minutes, must have been. Which struck me as a bit odd. I mean, who goes on and on about something they aren't?

But that was nothing, because next topic of conversation was his wife, whom he was in the process of divorcing.

'God, she's such a bitch. She wants to keep the house, says it's for the best because the girls are staying with her, and I can live at my parents.' It's a good job I've hidden all the profits from my work, otherwise she'd be getting loads more, the cow. Luckily she can't think straight since the stroke...'

'She's had a STROKE?'

'Yeah, that's caused all the problems. She was fine before then, but since the stroke she's a right lazy cow, keeps losing her temper and all. I can't be expected to put up with that sort of thing, whatever anyone says. It's not them that have to live with her. Six months of that is enough for anyone to put up with. I mean, it was alright when she was in hospital, you can expect to put up with a bit of crap then, but not once they're home - I mean, there's in sickness and in health, and there's taking it to extremes, and this was a bit extreme...'

And on it went. All the time I was getting more and more sympathy for this poor woman, who is not only disabled, not only looking after his kids, but also is being deprived of her proper divorce settlement by this PIG!

Obviously, when he suggested we go somewhere for lunch, I said I had to get back for my son being dropped off. Off we drove.

Not back to Shifnal though. He was driving on back roads that I didn't know, so it took me a while to realise we were headed towards Wolverhampton.

'Where are we going?'

'Oh, there's a good place for lunch I know.'

Well fucking hell. So we had lunch, and I let him pay, which I wouldn't normally do, but I was well pissed off at not being taken back home. And STILL I didn't realise that the guy was a looney tunes. I was just waiting for it all to be over, and was convinced I wasn't going to see him again by this time. Even though he was talking about introducing me to his parents :-O

Luckily, we then headed back for home.

'So where do you live?'

'Don't worry, I'm only two minutes form the Beehive, just drop me back at the car park.'

'No, I'll drop you home, you said Orchard Road didn't you, well, we're here now, which number?'

So I pointed out my house. And he insisted on getting out to look at 'what he could do to the garden' (my garden is a tip, but I had already decided it could stay that way rather than me ever see this loser again). As I opened my front door, intending to yell a cheery 'byee' he practically forced his way in and said, 'how about a cup of tea then?' I hate the fact that my natural instinct to be polite overcame my reluctance to have him in my house. In retrospect, I should have shoved him straight back out.

So we had a cup of tea. He sat on the sofa. I sat on my window ledge, waiting for him to leave.

'Why don;t you come and sit over here?' he said. 'The neighbours can see everything with you sitting there.'


FINALLY he decided to go, but not before he had arranged to see me again. I said no to Saturday night and Sunday lunch, but decided I needed him out of the house and so I said yes to Friday night. He left, after giving me a hug I really didn't want, and I heaved the BIGGEST sigh of relief.

I didn't sleep that night, because I really didn't want to see him again. I actually felt trapped. After one date! So Monday evening I phoned him and said I was sorry, after thinking about it, I was feeling trapped and it was probably because I wasn't ready to date again, sorry again. Luckily, he wasn't very vocal, and just said, 'oh' and 'ok', and then I said 'bye' and hung up. PHEW! OVER!

But it wasn't.

An hour later he rang back. I ignored it - I mean, it's not like I felt I owed him anything: it had been one date, I'd cancelled seeing him, said I didn't want to see him again, given a plausible reason why not, what else could I say? He rang about five times before I turned my phone off. As it happened, it was a good thing, because next morning when I turned it back on, I had been getting calls from him right up to 11pm, and also lots of texts from Steve. So damn good thing I missed all of that drama.

But that wasn't the end of it, oh no. Psycho One-Date Man had left millions of messages, which obviously I deleted without listening to. But the phonecalls and messages continued. Because, of course, I was really likely to answer a call a day later. Or two days later. Or a week later. Wasn't I? NO YOU PSYCHO!!!

Well eventually he got the message - or so I thought. About three weeks later, there was a phenomenal banging on my door, quite late one Friday night. Opened it, and it was Steve.

'Who the fuck owns that white van that's always parked outside your house? TELL ME!'

'You what?'

'You know what, whose fucking crappy van is it? Every night I've come past here and that fucking van is parked outside your house, so don't pretend you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about.'

'I don't! I really don't!'

But then it clicked. I hadn't seen it, but it MUST have been Psycho One-Date Man.

'Well, it doesn't matter whether you did or not, I've just gone after the tosser and told him he can fuck right off, cos if I see him out here again I'm gonna rip his fucking head off.'

How very gallant. So much so that we eventually got back together. Cos I'm pig-shit thick like that. then one night in December, about 11pm, me and Steve were in bed when my phone went.


'Hello Karen? It's Psycho One-Date Man...' (he actually said his name, but for clarity I've stuck with Psycho One-Date Man)

'Oh for fuck's sake!' and I hung up. He's never called back, although I have his number stored in my phone to prevent such a repetition. As Psycho One-Date Man.

So learning points from him:
Trust your instincts and listen to your gut - and run when you feel the urge
Consciously be aware of and look out for warning signs
Don't be polite - not if it puts you in danger
Swear if you have to
Have more than one stalker so they fight eachother off
Just like a lit firework - Never go back to a stalker. Steve ended up beating me so badly he was prosecuted almost immediately after I went back to him after this incident.
And once again - No Contact eventually worked

So being as January is coincidentally Stalking Awareness Month in the US, I'll try to do the Steve story next. Six years of crap decanted into a few posts - but concentrating on the stalking. If the above is what someone is capable of after one date, you can imagine what a person who has been in a relationship for years is capable of...

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