Muffin posted in LighterFluid about stalkers. It's a tragedy that in today's society, not only are the weirdos getting bolder, but that a stranger's word is automatically a red-flag for perversion. Also, it seems that men are just as susceptible to harrassment, with a few male BourbonBird readers being the target of crazy women who say they want love, when really, they want to make sails out of your skin. And complete their collection to make a nipplebelt.

At first glance, being a constant over-thinker, I have been told that I come across as looking slightly intimidating. To me, that's a good thing, but it doesn't deter some people as easily as I'd like it to. I'd like to think that I'm a decent bird, affectionate, and alright company with people who are worth their salt. But as promised, here's a re-run of my unfortunate dalliances with crazy people, in no particular order, as best as I can remember:

My ex-boyfriend/rapist, K: I was 16. He was a tad obsessive to start with, but I notched that down to artistic passion. After he attacked me at work (where he was calling incessantly) and before he was arrested, he came to my house, sweet-talked my vegan housemate into letting him in (she didn't know I'd been raped at that point), and trashed my room. He stabbed my bed, stole some of my things, and wrote horrible things on my bed. He also harrassed me via e-mail, which I promptly forwarded to the police.

Crazy Indian bus-driver: I was working reception at a brothel/swinger's club in Rydalmere, and I was 17 years old. He was a regular, and as far as the staffers knew, he was harmless. He had a penchant for small Asian women, and while he was very meek-looking, he was obviously a very dominant character, sexually speaking. The first few visits while I was working there, he'd flirt hopelessly, asking if there was any chance that I would switch over and become 'available.' I suppose he'd had enough of rejection, and demanded that I make myself 'available.' When that didn't work, he asked to speak to one of the brothel owners. Luckily, it was the owner who was very protective of me, and he said that there wasn't a chance of that happening. The bus driver visited on a near-daily occurence, and he was eventually booted out every time he rocked up. He had absolutely no interest in the woman he regularly took, and that caused a bit of hostility from her, since I was 'taking away her business,' but it wasn't really my fault. I had to be escorted by bouncer to and from the servo across the road if I wanted to get food, and I had to wait and watch on the security cameras until Jerkface had pulled up to pick me up before I could leave my reception box. Even then, security and the one owner who gave a shit would stand watch.

Jaime: I was 16, dating K. K's housemate had kindly driven me to this potential share-house opportunity, but per Jaime's request via phone, John was not allowed in. The ad read something along the lines of 'no visitors, strong security, very cheap rent to the right person...' Perfect for me, since K never made the effort to visit me at my place, and I could've used the security and cheap rent. Jaime struck me as very guarded on the phone, and when I saw her in the light, I could see why. She was a pre-op transgender woman, but it was quite evident that she had some subtle (but still obvious) masculine features - not quite welcome in certain parts of Brisbane. She told a tragic tale of how she grew up knowing that she felt different, and when she took the step to become a woman, it was received poorly by family, friends, and strangers alike. She had been assaulted numerous times, and went on to tell me that she saw me from the moment I walked up her driveway, via security camera. She showed me her house, and I was VERY impressed. She worked from home and had stocked up on everything like it was a bomb-shelter, and had very little reason to leave. I asked if K could ever visit, she said no, not even friends. Harsh, but it was easily overcome when I thought about how cheap the rent was. She was warm and kept telling me that I would definitely get the place if I wanted it, and then showed me the bedrooms. Fully furnished, to minimise ruckus with removalists, etc, she lay down a little suggestively on the bed that would've been mine, and then it dawned on me that she was kindasorta hitting on me. I thanked her for her time and went back to K's with John. The half-end of the visit was a little too creepy for my own liking, and it wasn't because she was transgender - that's a very common way of life for a lot of Filipino males, and I have no problem with that. What I did have a problem with was the security - if I wanted out, I doubt I would've been able to go so easily. A day or two later, I received an un-returnable email from Jaime, saying that I still had the place if I wanted it. There was also a small paragraph about how she found me attractive and would love to pursue something (or couldn't help trying) if I were to come and share living quarters with her. That was something I wasn't interested in, so to save confusion, I rang her back, apologised for wasting her time, and said that I couldn't take her up on her offer(s). I wonder about her sometimes, though she was very very very full-on towards the end of my visit.

Pooman: 2002-now. A pock-marked shambles of a man, I've no doubt he sometimes lives in the dank store-room under the building, playing some opus on his organ, dedicated to his fury on the women of the world. He works in microbiology (with a specialty in faecal/stool samples), thus the nickname, and he has a reputation for being sexually inept, awkward in conversation, stealthy and silent in his movement, a man who talks to women's breasts rather than their faces, a not-so-closet misogynist, and just plain creepy. At Christmas parties, he lurks in the furthermost corner, swaying to the music and leering at women, and once he gets a drink or two under his belt, all he sees are breasts. He also has a bad habit of interrupting my conversations with labstaff by just standing there and waiting as if he has something to say, then when you ask him what he wants, he says 'Nothing, just wanted to say hi!' and then keeps on standing there. Weird. He also appears out of nowhere, finding his way once in our department office, asking me to show him how to use the fax - there are faxes EVERYWHERE downstairs, and at the time, security had shut all the doors off, so I have no idea where he came from. Urgh. Also! Waiting at the bus depot on NYE, headed for a drunken night out with Nailpolishblues, he appeared right in front of me (this was in a FULL shopping centre, curse my dodgy eyesight) and asked where I was going, who I was going with, and when the party was set to end, since he was going to finish his shift at work at 10pm. I said I was going to wing it, freako. This guy remembered my birthday from a flippant conversation whilst walking two months prior, then yelled across the lab that he 'ONLY REMEMBERS THE PRETTY ONES!' He asked Nailpolishblues where I was the day of my birthday, which made her feel used and gross - sorry Nails! He also gets angry when I walk through the lab and don't spot him - I had a yell at him that I wasn't wearing my glasses, and he should chill the fuck out. That's just fucking insane, and every time I see his bike at work, my skin crawls and I get nervous in the back-half of my girlbits.

They're the big ones I remember, but there are more, less-freaky brushes with nutso folk. I was harrassed at home by a vindictive schoolmate once in highschool, too. He got some high Aboriginals to repeatedly call my home and threaten not only myself but my family. I forget where in the grand scheme of things that one happened, but I was suspended for graffitti-ing public property, writing evil Spanish/Filipino things about him, and giving him an anonymous present of circa-1970s gay porn magazines (thanks to my uncle here in Sydney, whose sexuality is largely ignored by my family, also notched down as artistic passion). This guy now has gonorrhoea. Hooray!

Oh, then there's A, the Indian servo-worker who likes to watch me take out my garbage and wash my dishes at 11pm of a night-time. Yikes!

I've had a terrible run with what I'd consider to be stalker-type-folk, so it's probably a good thing in this case that I am so distrustful. Remember, people - as aggressive, desensitised, and as feisty as we make ourselves out to be, we are ALL vulnerable, and there are people out there who like to take advantage of that. Be sensible, be vigilant, and be safe.

LighterFluid - where I have just been given the un-dubious honour of being voted Australia's #1 Yummy Mummy, with the title immortalised in mug-form. Bless! Seriously though, I want that mug. :|

I'd like to thank my hairstylist, choreographer, nipple-tweaker...