Friday, April 1, 2011

The Stalker Gene?

My dad has always had weird stalkerish tendencies (by tendencies I mean he's a full blow stalker) When I was a kid I never really noticed it. Thinking about it now he does/did have all the stalker attributes: glasses, mustache, dark hair color, dark eyes.

I recall in later years spending many nights driving around with my dad in my brother's not so inconspicuous red Mustang 5.0, stalking my mother. My dad had the radio blaring Lonestar's  "Amazed." He has a penchant for singing along with songs long before he knows the lyrics. Over top of the mustangs low rumble my dad grumbled and struggled through the lyrics until he got to the part that goes: "I don't know how you do what you do, I'm so in love with you, It just keeps getting better.". Why were we following my mother you ask? They had recently separated and my dad suspected my mother of a pre-vorce secondary relationship.

Everyday my mother would go for a "walk" by the shore and on many occasions, my dad, me, the mustang and the country music would follow. Between verses of  sad country songs I remember the joy of suggesting to my dad that hanging himself in the basement wasn't a good idea. Why was I there? probably to prevent my rage filled father from running over my mothers potential new BFF, should we find him. At any rate ,we weathered that storm and got through that period of our lives.

Something changed in the father and son dynamic after those day. Ever since I got a peek behind the weirdo curtain he became more obvious in his weirdness. On several different occasions with several different people he would just drive by their houses. Why? apparently just to see if the lights were on. Nothing he ever did got crazier or ventured further then going to a coworkers house or someone he knew personally. A sane person might go up to the house or knock on the door to say hello, but my dad was content with just making the trip and idling outside for a few moments. Perhaps he just needed something to do. Whatever the reason, still kinda creepy.

This brings me to my main point. I don't like encountering people, it frightens me. I am a good talker and can go on for hours but I fear small talk, and I fear tiny instances of judgement or persecution. Since I live in an apartment there is ample opportunity for me to encounter neighbors, neighbors I don't want to speak with. Before I leave the apartment I look out both windows. I listen for rumblings or voices outside. I know exactly what my landlord's car sounds like. I know everybody in our apartment complex and I know what apartment they live in/what cars they drive, but I've met none of them. I know what times they are usually home. I have cataloged all of this information so that I do not have to encounter them outside.

I recently realized, I am indirectly a stalker. No sane person should know the comings and going and daily habits of 20 other people. In my attempt to avoid following humans or being stalked myself I have erected the castle walls of stalkdom. High upon my second floor perch, I look down on the weirdos trying to get a look in my windows, and I have become the weirdo.


  1. It's stalk or be stalked sir. I think the logic of the red mustang as the vehicle of choice is a bit genious though. If one sees a red mustang one would never think "that car is following me." Hiding in plain sight= Awesome!

  2. i don't think you're anything like your dad. being aware of people's coming and goings so you can avoid them seems different to me.

    but maybe that's because i do it, too.

  3. you're not a stalker, sounds like you learned from your dad's mistakes.

    avoiding people is more like social anxiety ... i should know :)

    are you sure einstein wasn't your dad?

  4. The mail man is early... what does this MEAN. rofl. yep this post def makes me a follower.

  5. still here reading your posts and laughing :)

    oh noes am i a stalker?

  6. Very well written. I can learn a lot from you.

  7. Ha! I guess I'm a stalker too. I know the schedules of the tenants in my building. I talk to most of them on a regular basis, but there are times when I want zero human interaction outside of my immediate family. I peek out the windows or the peep-hole to see what's going on. Sometimes I even wait until midnight to grocery shop so that I don't have to see them. I'm weird and I'm okay with that.

  8. Maybe you just acquired certain habits that may be considered creepy by some people. Is your father Groucho Marx?
    Anyway, have you thought of being a detective?