"You Had Me At Goodbye" -- The Stalker And You

"You Had Me At Goodbye" -- The Stalker And You

I was trying to come up with an appropriate theme for Valentine's Day, and...

In my experience, stalking is not a phenomena particularly endemic to the comic book industry or fandom. I have never had a comic book fan stalk me per se, though I have had some close calls.

There was the jail-bait chaser (the Occasional Superheroine drinking game -- every time I write "jail bait" you take a shot) who loved Phantom Girl (classic, mind you, none of this post-1980 bullshit) so much he apparently wanted one for himself. I'm not sure when I realized he had crossed the line from friend to potential John Hinckley, though finding out that he told his mother we were going steady and near marriage was a clue. This fellow, sort of a Philip Seymour Hoffman on evil pills type, apparently had some idealized vision of me in his mind as this etherial, fucked-up teenager -- his comic book collecting Ophelia.

Here a point must be made. Women with stronger personalities -- aggressive, outgoing types -- get stalked much less. They get sexually harassed less. This is not to say that more soft-spoken, passive females are at fault when they are stalked & harassed. But this is just my general observation. The flip-side is that while a Hillary Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, or Nancy Grace type might get stalked and harassed less, they also are more likely to be hated for demonstrating the very same characteristics that would be praised in their male counterparts. I have dealt with such frustrating Catch-22s in life by watching a lot of old Ronald Colman movies and eating Lindt truffles.

To the stalker, "no" never just means "no" -- it means "I am secretly deeply in love with you because I realized that you were really my reincarnated soulmate from the time I was a Carpathian noblewoman."

To the stalker, "goodbye" simply means "try harder."

And so the stalker tries harder.

I've been stalked by some really grade-A stalkers. Tree-climbers, ersatz private investigators, and amateur riflemen. My run-ins with such creatures have been relatively milid, as I never had to get a restraining order. I've known many women who had to go the extra mile in this department.

I met one of my best friends in college through a professor who stalked both of us. She was into something called "big ass buddha-tits hard core witchcraft." A petite woman with long, Ophelia-esque blonde hair and her own Little Red Riding Hood cloak, she used to get stalked a lot. She had even got attacked. Then she encountered the wonders of the female spirituality movement and sort of went off on her own way with it. Of course, there is no need to go to such extremes as my friend, though her particular methodology for handling stalkers was rather colorful.

Stalking is a phenomena not bound by gender, looks, or economic/social status. For example, 2007's "Runaway Bride," Astronaut Lisa Nowak, is female, reasonably attractive, and...a freakin' astronaut! She was so obsessed with her sweetie that she wore diapers on her race to intercept his alleged girlfriend and "just talk" to her while carrying all the equipment necessary to theoretically rig up this chick's car so it looked like she killed herself with the exhaust. What dedication! What ingenuity! What stinky diapers!

The only real sort-of stalker I had in comics was a well-known freelancer who eventually had to be told by my boss not to call me anymore. This man was attractive, outgoing, talented, and extremely successful. He could also apparently read my brainwaves with his psychic powers and empathically "feel" when I was in distress. Of course, he was causing the distress, but why split hairs in the face of the miraculous?

My favorite cinematic example of the stalker is Bill Pullman from "Mr. Wrong." Yes, there is a certain allure about having the Han Solo guy from "Spaceballs" chase you across the country, " I Want To Know What Love Is" blaring, but his pseudo-Harrison Ford mystique can only be carried so far. Also, if you're Ellen Degeneres in that movie, you most probably have other issues going on besides terror over hearing "Foreigner" at a Mexican rest-stop.

So as you tote your bundle of roses and enjoy a romantic night eating stale twizzlers, getting felt up, and watching "Norbit," please do not forget that much-maligned flava in Cupid's stable o' love -- the red-blooded American stalker. And if you are having any problems with such dedicated individuals, there is a certain witch I can put you in contact with.