Weekends Are Made for Meeting New Folks - and Stalkers?

Interesting, how things which seem out of the ordinary can take on a dark hue; an unfamiliarly dark tone which puts your head in a foreign place - far different than the space your thoughts normally inhabit. True story.

This past weekend, while I was out walking and enjoying the sunshine that appeared between the frequent downpours of rain, a man whom I had seen on a number of occasions during my walks began pacing next to me, and chatting. He seemed innocuous enough, and while he may have thought he was giving off a 'metro' vibe, I thought he was actually more tilted towards gay. (I think his third of fourth sentence to me was 'I love how you have your eyebrows arched!) Seriously, he had the lip-purse and relaxed-wrist mannerisms which I have observed in many of my gay male friends. I think I can be forgiven for believing as I did in this instance.

Anyhow, on Saturdays I tend to end my morning walk at the donut shop, in the shopping center next door to my complex. Today was not to be an exception, and the gentleman asked if he could join me - buy me a cup of coffee, etc. I said sure, and ordered my usual, a chocolate-iced chocolate cake donut with nuts, added coffee, and sat down. He sat with me, and for about 30 minutes we chatted over the donuts and coffee. It was much like talking with another female, so when he asked me if he could call me sometime I said okay, and gave him my number. I said my goodbyes and walked  the less-than-five-minute walk to my apartment alone, having declined his request/offer to walk me home. 

I made it back home just as the rain started coming down again. I opened the door to the ringing of my telephone, and I walked over to look at the caller I D, which said "Brown Gray" as the identity of the caller. I didn't know who it was, so I let it go to voicemail. 2 minutes later, my telephone rang, showing the same caller I D as the last call. It was then that I noticed the ID count for this caller was showing 4 calls. What the bloody hell? I had just given this man my telephone number not even fifteen minutes ago, and he had already called 4 times. What the hell. 
As I stood there thinking I had made a huge mistake in giving this man my telephone number, he called again! This time I answered. The first thing out of his mouth after my hello was 'Where have you been?' If I have hackles, mine went WAY up with that. Then he said 'I miss you already'. My head damn near exploded with the brightness of the warning lights going off in my head then. There was no point in pretending I was misreading him. I decided to trust the bright lights in my head, warning me that this man was a mother fucker with issues. Going with my feelings, I said to him 'Look, I am completely disinterested in answering questions about how I spent the last 10 minutes since I saw you. Also, I do not find it flattering or in anyway pleasurable that you have now called me five times in that same span of time. I would prefer you do not call me again, as I have become uncomfortable with the thought of furthering our acquaintance.' He then asked me 'why'. I told him I felt I had given sufficient explanation and asked that he respect my wish and not call me again. I then hung up the telephone, after saying goodbye.
Not more than a minute passed before my telephone rang again; again it was him. I just looked at the caller ID in disbelief. That was to be my one constant feeling in reaction as this man proceeded to call me  fifteen to twenty more times throughout the course of the day. Other feelings begin to seep in - or is it out - during the course of the day, as the number of telephone calls stacked up. One of the feelings, of course was anger. I grew angry as hell that this crazy fuck was disrespecting my wishes and calling me after I asked him not to do so. Another feeling was fear. I found myself wondering if he had followed me from the donut shop, which was less than 5 minutes walk from my front door. I became angry with myself that I had not been more aware of my surroundings when I came home; that I had not taken notice of who was around, or if he specifically had followed me. The more I wondered about that, the more uncomfortable I became with having my curtains and blinds open, because he might have followed me, and he could very well be down there looking up at me, at that very minute. That fear also gave root to a different level of anger. There I was in my own home, with the curtains drawn and the chain and deadbolts securing my front door, jumping every time the telephone rang. I tried convincing myself that I was not being afraid; I was being prudent, but no amount of self-serving bullshit could buffalo me into believing I was being more  'smart' than I was feeling fear. My inability to convince myself that I was not afraid added to the anger that built up within me as the evening wore on. 
Around 8 PM the calls stopped - until just after midnight. 
It had taken me more than a couple of hours to stop 'expecting' the telephone to ring, and I had finally  calmed down sufficiently to stop jumping at every sound outside, and to stop imagining that other odd noises were coming from somewhere inside my home. The judicious placement of a sig sauer 9 millimeter pistol within less-than-arms-reach was quite helpful in restoring my sense of safety in my own home. Sometime after 11 PM, I went to bed, and to sleep, until the ringing of my telephone at 12:25 AM awakened me. Immediately upon reading the caller ID, which was reading 'Brown Gray', I snatched up the telephone and said an angry and aggressive hello. This crazy ass man said 'Hey boo - what are you doing?' I think I snapped, but I can't say for certain. I do remember telling him a few things that went something like this... 'Apparently, you have some serious issues which I don't feel are compatible with my own issues. I have asked that you not call me again as I do not wish to further an acquaintance with you, and yet you have called me more than 20 times in less than 10 hours. I will say this again. Do not call me again. I don't wish to speak with you. I don't wish to know you. Your behavior has made me uncomfortable with the thought of speaking to you at all. Please respect my wishes and do not call my number again.' Then I hung up. No - that wasn't the 'snapped' part. That happened when that psycho mother fucker called RIGHT back! I picked up the telephone in complete disbelief, even though I believed it. 'Hello?' That was all I said. He said 'Bitch, I know where you live'! 
Everyone, at least one time, at some point in their life has one of those moments where they say 'enuff is a-mutha-fuckin nuff'. I had one right then. I hit the speaker button on my telephone, picked up the sig sauer which was resting in less-than-arms-reach, where I had placed it when I got in bed. With the speaker on, I clicked off the safety and said 'You pathetic bitch, I just GPS'd you by your telephone number, and I know where you live too.' Purposely, in my best gangster-bitch-going-buck-wild manner and my Samuel-Jackson-as-a-female voice I snapped a round into the chamber of my handgun. I did it loud, rude, and right next to the microphone of the telephone. 'Hear that? It just became hunting season and you're on my list of shit to do.' Weird. He hung up on me that time. After about 30-40 minutes with no further calls, I managed to fall into an uneasy sleep. 
I woke up Sunday morning, still feeling a bit wary about this man's calls and wondering if I should concern myself about him any more. I decided not to give him more time or thought than he was worth. I made a pot of coffee, and was trying to prepare that first perfect cup when I realized I was out of sugar. Not an unsolvable problem. I grabbed a five dollar bill from my purse, put on a pull-over sweatshirt, and grabbing my keys headed out to the quickie-mart on the corner to get sugar. Halfway down my front stairs, I stopped, went back in and got the sig, and with its clip-on holster I secured it to the waistband of the jeans I had slipped on for my trip to the store. The very act of arming myself for the short walk to the convenience store pissed me off at that man. How DARE he behave in the way he did - making me uncomfortable with walking in my own neighborhood!
Well, I made it to the store and got the sugar for my coffee just fine. It was on the way home that I saw that crazy-ass man standing just in front of the walk up security gate at my complex. When he saw me he began walking toward me also. When he got about 6 feet away from me, I dropped the little bag I had which contained the sugar to the ground and pulled my handgun out with my left hand. (Odd, even after double carpal tunnel issues which caused me to switch from writing left handed to right handed, I still shoot left handed.) Apparently, he did not see my weapon come out because he started talking loudly, with a great deal of bass in his voice. His right arm was waving all over the place in rhythm to what ever the hell it was he was saying, and his left hand rested at his waistband. I think I made a conscious decision to suspend all conscious thought, if that makes any sense.... Going with my instincts- instincts which have kept me healthy through many an unhealthy situation.... Stepping forward on my left foot, I delivered a front kick to his inside right leg, and as he fell off balance I hit him with an over-hand fist which caught him right below his ear. How DARE this asshole do this to me! How DARE he make me afraid! I jumped down on top of him - hard - and with my knee on the back of his neck pinning his head to the ground, I leaned down and whispered to him 'I told you I am not one of those scary bitches: I am a completely 'nother type of beast'. He started flailing his arms and legs around, making odd squealing noises and grunting sounds and I stayed on his back like the rodeo ridin' bitch I grew up as. 
I hadn't planned what I was going to do, therefore I lacked a plan for terminating this scene. Improvising, I tapped the barrel of my handgun on the ground in front of his face, making sure he saw I had it, then with my other hand pressing his face in to the ground, I got up off of him and backed away about 10 feet, looking around me, checking to see who saw us, and had seen the commotion. What the hell! It appears my city's finest had been nearby, because there were two officers walking up from my right hand side, about 30 or 40 feet away. I decided to use those moments to holster my shit and place my hands on my head. One of the officers asked me if I was alright, while the other officer begin walking and talking with that crazy ass man. The officer with me didn't move to nor even ask if he could pat me down - for officer safety - which I found to be a potentially serious error of omission on his part. For my own safety, with my hands still on my head, I told him I had a weapon holstered on my left side, and stayed still while he removed it. This is not the Sunday I had in mind, not by a long shot. Of course, about 8 seconds later, I was glad I had told him about the gun, because that crazy-ass man told the officer with him that I had it. I have a permit. Not a concealed carry permit, but an owners permit which the police discovered to be valid during the course of their investigation. 
It turns out that this man whom I had given my telephone number was on parole from prison for previous stalking and assault related crimes, and he was a parolee at large and was being sought for a violation of his parole as well as some new charges. He was arrested. I and my sig sauer were allowed to go home together. As I stated before, I didn't have a plan for ending that situation without anyone being harmed, I had only planned for no harm to come to myself. I'm kind of glad the way the situation worked out though. Best of all, I am NOT afraid in my own home, and I won't be walking through my own neighborhood, throwing fearful glances over my shoulder, worrying that the crazy-ass stalking  whacko is somewhere around. 
What a fricken weekend....