It all starts innocently enough. A girl goes to an audition and meets a guy. A typical “gangster” type fellow, who watches “Jersey Shore” too much, and has a video game addiction. Then she sees him again at one rehearsal, but after that, he drops out. Never to be heard from again. So it may seem.
Months later, almost a year, and one day, he decides that she’s hot. She tells one of their mutual friends this and, knowing that the girl hasn’t had a true date in her life, her friend tells her to go for it. “Date him,” he says. “He’s a nice guy.” The girl takes him on his word and answers the guys messages on Facebook. Mistake number one!
“I think you’re hot,” the boy tells her over the messenger. Giving the word hot two t’s at the end. Spelling error. She’s not into guys who don’t know how to spell, but she’s giving him a chance. She’s trying.
After awhile the messages start to get heavy. Very heavy. “If I’m not good enough for you, I will go into the military to improve myself,” he tells her. “My life, from this point on, is in your hands.”
She is taken aback by this, so she tries to stop him from doing something stupid. “You are good enough,” she replies. “If not for me then for somebody else, but you are good enough.”
He gets off the subject. Starts talking about how she’s his type. He wants to be with her…forever!
She tells him that she wants to get to know him first, and he goes off on a tangent. “You have no competition in my eyes. Do I have competition? I’m not competitive, but I want to tell you that I don’t want to have competition in your eyes. I want you and I’ll get very jealous if I have competition.”
Now the girl is in panic mode. What should she do? This has just gone from bad to worse. “You have no competition, because no one ‘likes’ me like that.” She may sound calm, but she’s panicking inside. How can she get rid of him? Ask him to meet her parents. “Sure,” he replies. That didn’t work. Tell him that she’s a virgin. “I don’t mind.”
He likes the fact that she’s a “pure” girl. He always wanted a girl like her. To start new with. To be her first.
Panic is her only friend. All she has now is the terror that is riding through her like an electric current. She tries to stay calm, and asks her friend if she really should go out with him. Mistake number two!
“He’ll be good for you,” he tells her. “Just give him a chance.”
She keeps the conversation going. He tells her that he’s a “smooth criminal,” and that his father was in the mob. “I feel like a bastard son,” he tells her. “I don’t know if my parents were married when they had me. I always wanted an Italian girl,” he randomly adds. “I like Italian girls. I don’t care if your part or full, I always wanted a girl like you. You have no competition in my eyes, and even before we go out, I want you to know that I am devoted to you. And that if a girl asked me out, I wouldn’t even talk to her. I am that devoted. I want you and only you and I want you to feel the same way.”
His spelling and grammar errors are giving her a headache. The whole situation is making her petrified. “Don’t go overboard,” she replies. Mistake number three!
He now goes into panic mode, trying to tell her that he’s not a stalker, and that he watches her pictures every night on Facebook. “I just sit and stare at them for hours.”
She tries not to freak out on him, so she calls him a “talker.” The little voice in her head is saying, “More like stalker.”
“That’s what happens when I have coffee,” he tells her. By the way he’s acting, she’s knows he has to be on something else.
She can’t take it anymore. She finally tells him she’s tired and that she has to go to bed. And then she signs off.
She sits there for a minute, letting what happened sink in. It takes all of two seconds and she is now crazed. She doesn’t know what to do. She just spent an hour online with a stalker. Her stalker! She calls her friend, the one that told her to go for it. Mistake number four! There’s no answer.
So she finally calls a friend that she hasn’t talked to in ages, but the girl knows that this friend will have her back. In a panicky voice, she tells her friend what happened. “I’ll be right over,” she tells her. “And I’m bringing backup!”
In the meantime, the girl tries to get her other friend, and finally he calls her back. “What’s wrong?” he asks her, and she tells him everything, even reads some of the messages to him. He starts laughing. It is no joking matter. But he’s not laughing at her, he’s laughing at how stupid he’s been. “I’ll talk to him. Do you want me to threaten him?”
“That would be nice,” she says with a nervous laugh. When she they hang up, her other friend is already there with a guy friend of theirs that she has recruited.
They go inside as quickly as they can, and she hugs her girlfriend. She finally breaks down. “I don’t know what to do,” she tells them.
“We’ll fix it,” her friends tell her, and they proceed to read the messages.
Her girlfriend, trying to make light of things, starts to laugh at the stalkers grammatical errors. “This is what happens when you have two grammar Nazis in the room. You have the most entertaining stalker ever,” she laughs, and the girl laughs with her.
The friends start talking as if they never left one another, catching up on things that they missed, and telling stories about their past together. They block the stalker from her Facebook, while they get her other guy friend on the line. He’s talking to him, and it’s “over,” he tells them. The friends stay and talk some more, and hours later they decide to leave.
She’s calmer when they leave her, but as soon as they do, all of the food that she ate that day doesn’t stay in her stomach. After she’s done throwing up, she goes and lays down on her bed. Finally, after hours of trying to keep it together, she has a good long cry. Every man that has been interested in her turns out to be crazy. She knows she will never have someone to love her, and that’s what she cries for the most. Her loneliness washes over her for a moment, and then she lets it go. She has to. Otherwise, it will consume her.
She doesn’t sleep that night. She tosses and turns in her bed, replaying the day over and over again in her mind. Finally, she realizes that she made one last mistake…
She gave her stalker her phone number.
Story by: Laura Del (a.k.a. The Fiction Writer)