Wednesday, April 13, 2011


After a weekend in Vegas I have finally returned to the world of blogging.

This story just goes to show value (and horror) of coincidence - had my father known my zip code, I would never have (not) met this creepy stalker.

During law school I lived in downtown Dallas at a large apartment complex. My parents often sent me packages, with no issue, but one package never seemed to show up at my apartment office. After forcing the office staff to literally comb through every package in the closet, they told me where the local post office was that would have it if it were delivered when the office was closed. I set out to make this my mission.

One afternoon after a couple of hours interning at the DA's office, I arrive at the downtown branch of the post office in my suit. For some reason, more so than if I was in a swimsuit or tight workout spandex, I get hit on when I'm in my suit. However, this day seemed normal and the 5-6 folks in line that I noticed didn't look my way. I make it up to the counter and explained my situation to the woman, who went in the back to look for my package. She apologized, told me my package was not there, but requested my address and phone number so she could contact me when it showed up. I gave them to her. Aloud.

The next day, still packageless, I get a phone call. It had an area code I recognized so I answered thinking it might be someone from school.


In a thick Indian accent, the person on the other end responded. "Um, hi, my name is Gil, and um I saw you at the post office yesterday and I thought you were pretty."

What he just said hadn't really sunk in fully, so I asked "How did you get my phone number? I didn't talk to anyone at the post office."

"I wrote it down when you told it to the lady at the counter."


He continues "I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime, maybe Tuesday, are you free Tuesday?"

"NO. NO. You can't just write down some unsuspecting stranger's number when they are clearly not giving it to YOU! Don't EVER call me again!" And I hung up.

Rightfully, I was freaked out. This creepster thought that not only was it acceptable to write down someone's number when they were CLEARLY not giving it to him, but that it I would most certainly interested in going out with someone I had never seen who had severely violated my privacy.

It doesn't even end there. I clearly told him NEVER to call me again, and I get another call the very next day, which I let go to voicemail.

"Hi, this is uh, Gil, uh, the post office guy, I was just wondering if you were free tomorrow night to see if you maybe uh wanted to go out somewhere, or if not tomorrow than the next day, um, here's my number, call me back..."

This guy was completely out of his mind. He had been VERY ACTIVELY rejected the day before, told never to call me again, and defied both of these things and thought I'd have a change of heart the following day. Now not only was I terrified of him calling me again, but I knew that if he had heard my phone number, he also had my address. Luckily at the time my boyfriend was living with me most days, which made me feel safer, but I was constantly looking around for someone waiting for me when I didn't even know what he looked like!! I had no idea if he was watching me at all times.

So apparently there are some guys out there that are more clueless than we realize. I now have to spell it out to you.

1) NEVER write down a girl's number unless she is giving it DIRECTLY TO YOU. No, this is not the movies, and she won't be flattered that you thought she was cute enough to take the chance to contact her even though she's NEVER LAID EYES ON YOU. Yes, you're probably going to go on a date with this girl who's never seen you and you'll fall madly in love and have a great story to tell at your wedding. Or she'll get a restraining order.

2) If, for any reason, you violate rule #1, DON'T USE THAT NUMBER. Sure, you have it, but don't use it. It's like being drunk and calling an ex. It's still in your phone, you want to use it, but NOTHING good will come of a 2am drunk dial to someone you're not-so-secretly still in love with. Similarly, nothing good can come of you calling someone who has no idea who you are after doing something as creepy as STEALING her number while she gave it to someone else.

3) If you are a complete moron and violate both #1 and #2, and the victim seems even SOMEWHAT displeased with your phone call, GIVE THE FUCK UP. English may not have been your first language buddy, but "Never call me again" doesn't mean "try again tomorrow, maybe she'll feel differently." There needs to be some way to make this phrase as startling and severe as those yellow caution signs in many languages: ACHTUNG! !CUIDADO! STOP CALLING ME YOU CRAZY STALKER!!!!!!!!

So the story basically ends a few days later, when after he calls 4 times without messages (literally once a day), I'm in the DA's office and talking to one of the cops awaiting trial. Fortunately for creepy stalker, that was the first day he didn't call at the same time, or else Officer Beatdown would have answered the phone for me and scared the everloving shit out of him.

Because of this I avoided ALL post offices in the Dallas area for over a year, looked behind me every time I was alone at night, and absolutely, positively, will never SPEAK my phone number to another human in my lifetime. If you get it, it'll be typed into your phone for you or written down.

Thanks, Creepy Stalker.


  1. I think Officer Beatdown is my favorite character in this story.


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