The Stalker

I’ve been living in a fog until recently and then it was finally lifted. See, I’ve got this guy, he calls himself my husband, and he lives in my house. I’ve put up with it mostly because I thought I had to. But I never really understood it. Then I read about this thing called stalking, and I said, “THAT’S IT!”

Listen, I go into the kitchen, he follows me. He asks me, “what’s for dinner?” I go into the living room to watch some TV, he follows me in there too. And sits next to me? I go into the bedroom, he even follows me there. He watches me undress. I go to sleep and he gets into bed beside me and sleeps there with me. Sometimes I notice that he’s in the living room watching TV without me, so I go do some other things, like laundry, and I find all of his laundry in my baskets. Then I pass by the living room again, and HE’S STILL THERE.

“Hi honey,” he says. Can you believe that?

So I read about this guy that was stalking a woman he was living with and I think, “that’s me, that’s me!”

I called the police. I said, “excuse me, but I think I’m being stalked.”

“You think?” they asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“What does he do to stalk you?”

“He won’t leave my house.”

“Is he there right now?”

“Well, no, he went to work, but he will be back tonight. He comes back every night”

“How does he get in your house, ma’am?”

“He has a key.”

“Did you give him the key?”

“I don’t remember ever giving him a key. I don’t know how he originally got here.”

“And what relation is this man to you, ma’am?”

“Oh, um, no. I don’t think he’s related to me.”

“Ok, now listen carefully. Are you currently under the care of a psychiatrist?”

“No.”

“Now what happens when you ask this man to leave?”

“I haven’t done that. But he acts like he owns the place, and I don’t even know who he is.”

“Is he violent at all?”

“He calls me ‘honey.’ That’s kind of forward.”

“Uh huh.”

“And he follows me around the house.”

“Uh huh.”

And he gets into bed with me.”

“He does?”

“Yeah!”

“Would you like me to send a car out there to check it out?”

“Yes. Yes I would. But wait. Wait until he comes home, like after 6.”

“Ok ma’am, I’ll send a police car out around 7PM.”

“Thank you. I feel so much better,” I said. And I did. I felt really good. Holy cow, that was so easy. I was so glad that I had heard about the stalker thing. I was going to get rid of my stalker once and for all after all of these many days, because this was just too much.

The stalker came home, like I said he would, after 6. First thing he said was “hi honey.” Oh, that gets me steamed.

“You’re days are numbered, mister,” I said.

“What I do?” he said.

“Like you don’t know. I’m onto you.”

“Onto what?” he asked.

“Y’know.”

“Have you been taking your medication?” he said.

I just looked at him. What was this?

“You haven’t been taking them again haven’t you?”

What do you think? Is it me? Is he playing a trick?

“Um… what medication?”

He came over and sat me down on the couch, put his arm around me and said that I suffered from a delusional lapse of some kind and that I need to take my medication to stay focused on reality.

“Do you know who I am,” he asked and I said, “You’re my husband.”

“That’s right,” he seemed pleased.

“The stalker,” I added.

“Oh brother,” he began. “Look, I have been your husband, and your lover, and your sweetheart for 15 years. We go through this every time you forget to take your medication. You know me, when you’re on your meds. I am not some stranger.”

“You’re not just some guy who won’t leave?”

“NO!” he said. “I’m your loving husband. I have stayed with you through thick and thin and I will forever. We have a life together, partners, and we’re going to beat this thing as a team, because I love you. And you can trust me.”

“ooooh.” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

“You are cute when you’re like this, you know that right?” I smiled. I kinda was liking this guy after all, I thought to myself.

“Now, I’m going to go get your meds, and you’ll take them, right?”

I nodded. He got up, then the doorbell rang. “I wonder who that is,” he said.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“About seven.”

“It’s probably the police,” I said.