I've never been much of a stalker before. I've found some friends through social networking sites' searches. I've asked around for a friend of a friend's number. I've even looked up the last name of a cute hotel clerk in the phone book. I wouldn't say that's stalking.
Today I found myself stalking. It was a woman at the grocery store. She was cute, and checking out alone at line 15. I got behind her not only for the possibility of starting some conversation, but because it was also the shortest line. If there had been a shorter line, I probably would've gotten in that one--maybe.
All I knew about her was she liked cakes. She was buying lots of cake-making materials--almost exclusively. I also knew she wanted to pay for her tampons and pads separately. Perhaps the cake was a business cake, charged to a business account? If that is the case, she is a good person--or at least a cautious one--and I liked that. Perhaps she likes to keep her shopping types on different receipts, so she can see how much she has spent in each category at the end of the month. If that is that case, she likes being organized, which means she's just like me.
So far it was all positives. She was buying both tampons and pads. Maybe she has heavy periods? There's medicines you can take for that, but I'm sure she knows that already. Maybe she's trying out tampons for the first time, having used pads all her life, but still wants to keep some around just in case. Maybe one of the two is for a friend.
She wasn't wearing a ring, but boyfriends don't come with a ring. When I stand in a grocery store check-out line, I always let other people start the conversations. I picked up a pack of starbursts from the candy rack facing us. I always like to pick up something nice for my roommate; he's such a good person. It's the least I can do. If she knew I had been buying the starbursts for someone else things may have gone differently.
I gave her four or five chances to start conversation. I moved my head in her direction, faced her completely, and look up at the ceiling, as if waiting for something to happen. None of these evoked any kind of response. I realized at that moment that in my haste to get in and out of the grocery store quickly, I had left my sunglasses on. A man wearing sunglasses? No cute woman thinking soundly would ever start up a conversation with a man in sunglasses. What if they were evil?
I had failed, and I resigned to buying my groceries without so much as a "hello." As I walked to my car, I thought of all the things that could've happened differently during the day, and how each one would've affected what was happening to me then. I walked out into the street towards the parking lot. Spotting my car, I weaved between SUVs and convertibles to get to my modest sedan.
Then, loading up her groceries, I saw her. Of course she had to get to a car, just like me! But what to say? No, I was too far removed from my chance to speak with her, I would have to continue. Still, there were so many mysteries; I didn't even know her name. That's when I glanced at the license plate. 1555WD, Virginia. I smiled. I would know all about her very soon.
The internet has made stalking a very private and easy task. All I have to do is type the plate number into a search field and up comes the information. Brooke Andrews, age 24, Lexus ES 350. She was calm, organized, not afraid to ask the cashier to put her tampons on a separate card, and rich. From there I found her home address. Only a 9-minute drive from my apartment, and mapping websites always over-estimate the time. I also found her phone number, and online profiles.
She's a dog-person; I love dogs. She's currently single, but she just got out of a pretty serious relationship with a 26-year old hockey-player named Dennis. After they broke up, Dennis moved back to North Dakota, and has already started a new relationship with someone named Jenny. Brooke went out to a club in DC the other night and got hit on by a guy out of the blue, or so she says on her blog. She says she found the entire experience "creepy" and that it ruined her otherwise fun night out. I'm glad I didn't say anything.
Stalking serves a purpose--to get to know someone better. I know Brooke so well, I feel like I could be an old friend from middle school. No--better yet, an old friend from summer camp. Remember me? I was the quiet kid with blonde hair that curled out on the sides. We talked a few times, I can't believe I found you! You look great, by the way, and I love the picture of that cake you just posted. It looks delicious. What? Are you kidding? Yes, I love Coldplay. Where are you living these days? Me too! We probably aren't more than a few miles away. We should totally hang out sometime--if you're free. Lunch on Tuesday? Market Street Cafe?
Looking forward to it.
Today I found myself stalking. It was a woman at the grocery store. She was cute, and checking out alone at line 15. I got behind her not only for the possibility of starting some conversation, but because it was also the shortest line. If there had been a shorter line, I probably would've gotten in that one--maybe.
All I knew about her was she liked cakes. She was buying lots of cake-making materials--almost exclusively. I also knew she wanted to pay for her tampons and pads separately. Perhaps the cake was a business cake, charged to a business account? If that is the case, she is a good person--or at least a cautious one--and I liked that. Perhaps she likes to keep her shopping types on different receipts, so she can see how much she has spent in each category at the end of the month. If that is that case, she likes being organized, which means she's just like me.
So far it was all positives. She was buying both tampons and pads. Maybe she has heavy periods? There's medicines you can take for that, but I'm sure she knows that already. Maybe she's trying out tampons for the first time, having used pads all her life, but still wants to keep some around just in case. Maybe one of the two is for a friend.
She wasn't wearing a ring, but boyfriends don't come with a ring. When I stand in a grocery store check-out line, I always let other people start the conversations. I picked up a pack of starbursts from the candy rack facing us. I always like to pick up something nice for my roommate; he's such a good person. It's the least I can do. If she knew I had been buying the starbursts for someone else things may have gone differently.
I gave her four or five chances to start conversation. I moved my head in her direction, faced her completely, and look up at the ceiling, as if waiting for something to happen. None of these evoked any kind of response. I realized at that moment that in my haste to get in and out of the grocery store quickly, I had left my sunglasses on. A man wearing sunglasses? No cute woman thinking soundly would ever start up a conversation with a man in sunglasses. What if they were evil?
I had failed, and I resigned to buying my groceries without so much as a "hello." As I walked to my car, I thought of all the things that could've happened differently during the day, and how each one would've affected what was happening to me then. I walked out into the street towards the parking lot. Spotting my car, I weaved between SUVs and convertibles to get to my modest sedan.
Then, loading up her groceries, I saw her. Of course she had to get to a car, just like me! But what to say? No, I was too far removed from my chance to speak with her, I would have to continue. Still, there were so many mysteries; I didn't even know her name. That's when I glanced at the license plate. 1555WD, Virginia. I smiled. I would know all about her very soon.
The internet has made stalking a very private and easy task. All I have to do is type the plate number into a search field and up comes the information. Brooke Andrews, age 24, Lexus ES 350. She was calm, organized, not afraid to ask the cashier to put her tampons on a separate card, and rich. From there I found her home address. Only a 9-minute drive from my apartment, and mapping websites always over-estimate the time. I also found her phone number, and online profiles.
She's a dog-person; I love dogs. She's currently single, but she just got out of a pretty serious relationship with a 26-year old hockey-player named Dennis. After they broke up, Dennis moved back to North Dakota, and has already started a new relationship with someone named Jenny. Brooke went out to a club in DC the other night and got hit on by a guy out of the blue, or so she says on her blog. She says she found the entire experience "creepy" and that it ruined her otherwise fun night out. I'm glad I didn't say anything.
Stalking serves a purpose--to get to know someone better. I know Brooke so well, I feel like I could be an old friend from middle school. No--better yet, an old friend from summer camp. Remember me? I was the quiet kid with blonde hair that curled out on the sides. We talked a few times, I can't believe I found you! You look great, by the way, and I love the picture of that cake you just posted. It looks delicious. What? Are you kidding? Yes, I love Coldplay. Where are you living these days? Me too! We probably aren't more than a few miles away. We should totally hang out sometime--if you're free. Lunch on Tuesday? Market Street Cafe?
Looking forward to it.
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