I have decided that antagonizing those who clearly have erroneous judgment by labeling them Stalkers was not getting anything done or making anyone happy. I have adopted The Following. I feel it shifts responsibility to me, where I can potentially control the outcome of these situations and emerge the bigger person. On with.
Subject XY1 occurs on Tuesday nights and Subject XY2 occurs in perpetuum. The existence of XY1 began by sitting together in class. During the lecture, he would say something I could not hear, and:
Me: Sorry?
XY1: Oh nothing. *embarassment*
… at least three times per class. He is also afraid of eye contact, which helps his ability to communicate in no way. Once, we had a conversation about The Simpsons:
XY1: You know that Simpsons episode where -
Me: I… probably have, in my life, seen one episode.
XY1: Really?
Me: I don’t lie.
XY1: I have, in my life, seen at least one episode a day.
At this point, the potential of ever having an uninhibited conversation with him about anything worth my time had been extinguished. I didn’t say that to be rude, I simply did not want to leave him with a blank expression to his reference which would require him to react, something I knew he would not be able to handle.
For me, his main purpose is to walk with to the skytrain station.
My main purpose is still unknown.
Since sociology is three hours long, I have begun to watch movies on youtube. XY1 knows from passing comment that I was taking German (I also probably used sociology to do online homework at some point) and from in-class discussion that I speak French. Last class, I found a copy of Help! on youtube with Spanish subtitles and watched it without sound, putting my French to work on decoding some words and deciphering the songs by lipreading. Now he thinks I speak Spanish as well, and like, worships me.
XY2 is far more unsettling. He appears everywhere. Our first interaction was during a break from anthropology (the only class we share) where he was standing outside the door, talking on his phone, as I tried to deviate from someone shoving a chair at me in their own attempt at leaving, resulting in me walking into the door like a freaking retard. He raised his eyebrows at me and I laughed at myself and went on to get some hot water from the cafeteria. I thought that was the end of that, but of course in these situations when it comes to competing for naivete, I would triumph over any stilleto-wearing babe trying to flee a rampaging murderer by trapping herself in a doorless, darkened room.
I figured that since we went to the same school, occasionally seeing him would happen. I didn’t speak to him or, in fact, notice him. One day, as I was leaving school, an Audi honked at me. An Audi waiting near the entrance. Creepy. I walked on. As I passed it, the window rolled down and XY2 leaned over and told me to “get in”. I approached the window with my best look of condescending perplexion.
“Why?”
“Just get in.”
He was being hostile. I said no, and he insisted. “I have to go to work,” I said, as I walked away. He got out of his car and blocked my passage. I held my ground unaffected. Neither he nor I knew what he was going to say next. I got a phone call from work asking if I could come in early. I went around him.
“I can drive you.”
“It’s in Vancouver, I can get there on the skytrain, it’s easy.” I said, leaving with purpose. I don’t think he understood. He was a rich American kid with a car, thinking that was all he needed – an idea that was at present failing him.
Things didn’t improve. During the next break, I entered the cafeteria as he was leaving; something I figured saved me from interaction. As I left the cafeteria, I discovered him leaning against the wall right outside (in WAIT!), on his phone. As I passed, I became the unwilling witness to:
“alright man, I gotta go. A pretty lady is passing me by and I need to catch her.” I tried to run up the stairs two at a time. When he caught up to me, I pretended to kick him in the shin. “You’re gorgeous today.” Crap. At this point, I had interpreted him as a hostile and imposing person. As an accommodating and generally pleasant person who refuses to infuriate people, I deflected that comment as politely as possible. “Now, you say, ‘you’re looking handsome today’”.
“I’m not going to say that.”
“Just say it.”
I played along OUT OF FEAR FOR MY LIFE and as a result, a chunk of my soul prostituted itself to appear in The Phantom of the Opera for the rest of time. I hope you understand.
“You didn’t mean that.”
“No, of course not. You made me say it.” He had no reply.
Today I noticed the same Audi parked in the same spot near the exit and ignored it accordingly, opting instead to cross at the crosswalk, avoiding him completely. Unfortunately, I am a moving target equipped with GPS and a strobe light with eight THOUSAND traffic-yellow arrows pulsating at me. It seems. In the middle of the crosswalk:
“Hey! Hey, stop!”
“I’m not stopping in the middle of the street” I said, as I continued to the other side and letting myself pick up speed. He ran across the street to catch me and before I could pull my revolver and feed him lead salad, he questioned why I was leaving early. Early? I explained that my condensed course finished last week while pretending not to vomit out of my eyes. And, tried to leave.
“Wait, don’t I get a hug?”
“I’m not going to hug you.”
“So, I spend a night in jail*, and I don’t get a hug?”
“Absolutely. You were irresponsible and unimpressive and it seems to not have affected you any. I’m not hugging you for no reason.”
He complained about me acting like a mother while I contemplated my existence and the value of pushing him into the path of an oncoming bus. I successfully evaded his grasp and continued down the hill, hating myself and hating myself and was unfortunately not out of earshot to hear, “oh by the way, you’re looking gorgeous today.”
*I walked into the classroom to him talking to my professor about having spent the night in jail after driving home drunk from a party and getting pulled over for it – apparently because the cop liked his car, he said, an Escalade – to which my professor scoffed at comically and went on to explain that from now on, XY2 was in the category of intentionally detrimental people. Anthropology does not lie. My professor claimed it was a non-anthropological opinion.
I got proposed to and invited to parties in Paris while taking a fifteen minute walk to an ATM without violating my soul to this extent.
/rant.
