My own personal Stalker

Do you ever have one of those days where something takes you so completely off guard that you don't quite know how to respond? I usually come up with a good response a day or two later, but sometimes a good one never comes.

I went out to get the mail on Saturday. Something I do fairly regularly, but as the mailbox is not all that far from the door, the likelihood that someone "walking by" might catch me at that given moment is truly minimal. I don't spend a lot of time hanging around outside in my front yard, that is what the deck is for—out back.

So it's the first nice day in forever. Family is scheduled to appear that night for an overdue visit. Hubby says, "Will you go pick up the mail?" Sure, no problem. I don't keep track of "old friends" well. There are 2 good friends, or used to be, I'd like to find again as I regret not keeping them closer. I don't make all that many friends, especially women friends. But this one person who knew me in high school has made it his personal mission in life to track me down. My stalker is non-violent, thank gawd. But I'm not really sure why he's so keen to start hanging out with me again.

In HS I was not a very outgoing person. In fact, given the mental state I was in compounded by being a teenager, I'd say psychotic was probably putting it mildly. Come on . . . I chose which college to attend based on the fact that no one who KNEW ME went there. I didn't like who I was. I didn't like where I was going. And I did everything I could to change the direction of my life.

There I am, standing at the end of the driveway with my head in the mailbox. This unmistakable voice comes flinging across the street, "Some people never write, they never call . . . " And this is supposed to be funny? Didn't the fact that I moved here 2.5 years ago and haven't once looked you up mean anything? He found us based on the county tax records. Great. Wonderful. What good is an unlisted phone number if a stalker knows where you live??

Hubby was terribly nice about having his day completely interrupted. We still were cleaning up the house, the baby needed a bath and he hadn't hit the showers yet. I just wanted them out of there as fast as humanly possible.

I haven't yet come to terms with the fact that now he does have our phone number. I'm not sure what I'll do when he does call.

I can tell you this. After years—more than half my life—reinventing myself, I found that I was reacting and feeling much like I did when I was first leaving for college. Back then, I knew there was an end in sight. I got through it mostly sane. This time, I'm not so sure. The problem is that he expects me to be the same person now that I was then. Because as far as I can tell, even though it's more than 20 years later, we're both married to other people and have kids, he hasn't changed much at all.

People grow and change, or at least I may have deluded myself into thinking so. It's kind of sad and pathetic in a way. In another way, it's just terribly disconcerting. I will have to deal with it someday . . . right now I'm just creeped out.