Being Stalked as a Status Symbol

How many women have you heard claim they’ve been stalked? How many men? How many of these women and men have claimed they’ve been stalked by more than one person? How many of them do you think are full of shit?

I think most of them are. I think they like the idea that they have been stalked so much that they have caused themselves to believe their own bullshit.

Is started in the Nineties. Prior to that, the word “stalker” was more likely to be found in science fiction novels and comic books as a character’s name. Undeniably a very real problem when first given credence, it swiftly turned into the latest thing. Second only to claims of abusive parents, having a stalker was the dysfunction du jour all throughout that prosperous and very self-centered decade.

Suddenly, stalkers were everywhere. My mom once told me there was a similar although far more serious response to the sudden “discovery” of rape in the Seventies. Every guy that walked past a woman more than once was branded with stalker. Any woman who didn’t just go away after having been discarded was one as well. It was “cool” to have stalker. The daytime talk shows reinforced this, and the nightly news remind us how dangerous and interesting it was.

It got to the point where people seemed to feel left out if they didn’t have stalker story to tell at parties. Some of them made up stories entirely, while others embellished their experiences to make them more like “Fatal Attraction” sans the boiling bunny. I even noticed people foreshadowing potential stalkers with labels like “fatal” and “obsessive.”

If a woman was angry over being cheated on and stood outside your door banging on every window and every door, she was a “fatal.” She wasn’t a devastated, righteously angry young woman. If a guy simply stared in your direction for longer than five seconds from across a crowded room, he was obsessive.

I haven’t checked the stats on this, but my instincts tell me more PPO’s and restraining orders were filed in the Nineties than in any other decade except perhaps this one.

Why did people feel the need to be part of the stalker boom? Validation. Fans of South Park might remember the episode where Mr. Garrison went home with much trepidation, implying his father had tampered with him sexually. However, in a brilliant and disturbing comedic twist, it turns out Garrison was upset because his dad never did tamper with him! School counselor Mr. Mackey explains that people have been led to believe they only matter if they are dysfunctional. Sadly, there is some truth to that.

Celebrities, a group of people with actual stalkers, seem to thrive on tales of their dysfunctional and tragic childhoods. It’s become hip to be fucked up. Thank Howard Stern for that. His pioneering in the field of dysfunctional celebrities inspired a generation of imitators with little to compare.

Stalkers are the great intangible that binds everyone together. There’s no need for hard evidence and facts when it comes to making claims of being stalked. Much like alien abduction, the stories are so well—saturated in our minds

The word has become a slang term for anybody who lingers too long. Much like the word “depressed,” stalker has lost its true meaning and power in a sea of superficial usages and pop culture repetitions.

It doesn’t help that stalking takes many forms, from old-fashioned lurking in the bushes to a certain enterprising I.T. professional I once knew who used his powers for evil by tracking down a woman he’d met twice. This brings p another aspect of stalking that fascinates me just as much: The guy who doesn’t know he’s a stalker.

One friend of mine makes it a habit of trolling malls in search of appealing females, preferably employees of the stores in the mall so he can scope them out more than once. He does this for an unspecified length of time then starts creating little encounter moments with some of them, all in he name of “loving women.” As if that weren’t creepy enough to a young girl raised to see everyone a potential stalker, he also strikes up conversations with them in ways that let them know he watches their habits and actions. When I call him on this and try to advise him what this course of action can be interpreted as, he dismisses my words as either jokes at his expense or ridiculous. I don’t think he would ever turn violent or go any further than where he is right now, but for many people that is enough.

You damn well best believe these chicks tell people about the psycho stalker at the mall who walks past their stores on a regular basis with a stupid grin on his face, peering in at them. He has become their party story, their rite of passage, and their confirmation that they are part of something.

The I.T. guy didn’t think he was a stalker, either. IN all fairness, he had not dated anyone new since the early Eighties, so the whole phenomenon had passed him by. But he also saw any assertions of his stalkery as ridiculous and seemed to grow angry with the woman he’d tracked down online. She too now has a story confirming her hipness.

I was accused of stalking once. I too was offended by the accusation, but my incident was different. Following a huge fight with a female friend in whom I had expressed romantic interest, I decided I’d had enough of her flip-flopping and drove over to pick up nothing of mine that had been left at her house. The fact that I did that after a fight then lingered long enough to go to the bathroom brought on the accusation. I remember looking at her as if she was insane.

“No offense intended,” I said, “But you’re not worth the gas money.”

As I left, laughing and saying, “Somebody thought she was important, didn’t she? Didn’t she? Aww, poor baby,” she seemed to get the point. Nobody was gonna use me to get their stalker cred. Dumb bitch.

I have no idea if I’ve been stalked. It wouldn’t be hard, considering the rut I’ve been in since the start of the new millennium. It’s not something I’d want to happen. It’s nice to feel wanted, but not to that degree. I do have a screenplay I’ve been tinkering with for years now dealing with many of the themes mentioned above. Yes, it’s a comedy. This post has inspired me to go back and re-visit that story.

Maybe it will show all those stalkers how pathetic they are and do the same for those who look forward to having a stalker story. If not, maybe I’ll make enough money to buy a pickup truck so I can park outside Eva Mendes’ house without my legs falling asleep~