Friday, March 28, 2008


I know, I know. Winter gets around. He's a man-slut, but I'm worried a little. I warned him. It's over between us, I said. I'm just not in that place anymore, I told him, faking tears. But he hasn't gotten the hint, and now I'm considering a restraining order.

I had a stalker in high school. Corey. He was in my electronics class. He was a geeky, baritone-voiced sophomore. He dropped a pencil in class once, and the asshole behind me kicked it to his buddy, who stomped on it with his steel-toed boots. I turned around and told the steel-toed kid that he was an asshole, and gave Corey one of my pencils. And a stalker was born.

He had a sweet Barracuda, black and chrome, with black leather interior, and he'd drive up and down my cul-de-sac, hardly inconspicuous amongst the Tauruses and Civics. He was like a pet, an entourage and fan club, all rolled up into one skinny white kid. Well things got ugly - not with him, his actions were limited to driving and pretending to not be watching me - but with me and a friend, trying to get him to leave me along. It was a half-hearted attempt, because in Kelso in late spring, there's not much else to do, and watching a Barracuda drive up and down your cul-de-sac is high entertainment.

But the bad part. My parents were (rightfully) disturbed by the Barracuda, and he was warned to stay away. Which he did. He wasn't a bad kid, but a year later I heard from a friend that he started following another girl, and when he was warned again he drove that pretty Barracuda through a plate-glass window in downtown Longview. Then he ended up in a psych ward. I'd do it again - stick up for him, give him a pencil. But as an adult, I also have to shoulder some of the responsibility for his downturn. Sure, he was a screwed up kid, but I wasn't, and today I'm sorry about it, for my lack of compassion.

So this winter has been reminding me of Corey.


Blogger Bob said...

oh, but spring - she is just a tease. she shows up, lifts her skirts and then runs away. leaving us frustrated, wanting more.

spring, i think she's related to this winter guy.

3/28/2008 11:25 AM  
Blogger meno said...

I am curious that you take some of the blame. Since you were not the last one he stalked.

Why is that?

I miss your writing.

3/28/2008 7:49 PM  
Anonymous apathy lounge said...

I miss your writing and also hearing from you. Have you heard from TB?

3/29/2008 7:07 PM  
Blogger Eliza said...

I miss your writing, too. If enough of us beg, will you post more often? Pretty-please? If that doesn't work, beware of minivans trolling your cul-de-sac...

3/30/2008 12:07 PM  
Blogger Mignon said...

Yeah, Bob. Related in such a way as to make them THE SAME PERSON. Who is this spring of which you speak??

Meno, I don't know. I just think, because I remember the details so clearly, I was not too different of a person than who I am now. And if that's true, who I am now would not have done what I did then. And also, if I don't shoulder some of the blame, then I won't the impart the intricacies of compassion to my children. Because someday I may have to use my misdeed as a lesson for them.

AL, thanks and no. She and I seem to be orbitting the blog world right now. We wax and wane, I guess.

Eliza, thanks as well. If you beg and I post more, you may get memes and open letters to groups of people who irritate me. And just the thought of having a stalker these days is pretty tittilating. Don't tease.

3/30/2008 8:14 PM  

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