- Rejected stalkers have a twisted sense of love. Dated or married their victim, then lost them. Believe that persistence, a little threat here or there, will help them regain their lost obsession.
- Incompetent suitors have primordial social skills. Develop a fixation on their victim. Attempt communication through bizarre messages or gifts, without having ever introduced themselves.
There are, of course, a few more types of stalkers. I’ve read and reread those descriptions. As if a textbook description could give peace on why my stalker, The Neighbor, chose me as victim. My experience fell outside of common definitions. The Neighbor and I certainly never dated. Were barely acquaintances.
Based on the number of times The Neighbor called me a homophobe, my case probably bordered on the incompetent suitor. It was hard to tell. I had nothing much in common with her other two victims. One was reportedly her ex-lover, a man. The other victim, the ex’s personal assistant, a woman. Victims by association. Got too close to The Neighbor. Our only similarity.
Here’s another textbook tid-bit: stalkers want their victims’ attention. Victims (in theory) should ignore their stalkers’ harassment. The stalkers eventually tire of not getting a reaction, and move on. (To do what? Go for a nice brisk walk? Take up badminton? Stalk someone else?)
That advice is for folks with less dangerous, not nearly tenacious stalkers. So, if you’re in a similar situation, sure, go ahead, try the silent treatment, but monitor the situation. If your stalker escalates, be prepared to fight.
Ignoring The Neighbor what I tried doing the first two-ish years. It solidly didn’t work. When I withheld even the little attention that I was paying, The Neighbor upped her attempts by dumping a huge stack of boxes—all labeled POLICE—outside my front door. It was the start of The Neighbor’s more targeted attempts to wear me down, to draw me closer to her. If I’d been a less stubborn woman, it might have worked. I wonder what would’ve happened if she had succeeded.
OK, so I say that, but, even as I approach the one-year anniversary of our final meeting in criminal court, I still wonder about The Neighbor’s motivations for the POLICE boxes.
Maybe it was for sympathy. That I would pause at the weight of the world that she unloaded from the private corners of her life (onto my doormat). Pull her aside, asking, “My poor dear, whatever happened to you?”
Maybe it went deeper than a passive request for sympathy. Maybe it was for a recognition of her importance. Bragging rights. That I would behold in awe her trophy case of boxes. Showcasing her constant encounters with the law, saying, “Wow, that’s incredible! Look! Such accomplishments!”
Even now, years later, none of my speculations make sense. The more I uncovered about The Neighbor’s past, the more questions arose. I never got answers. Just evidence that helped me get a stalking order against a repeat offender.
To be continued.