The Stalker

It all began when registered with FindAPartner.com. I had been single my whole life, while watching all my friends being happily paired up: I felt a mix of envy and loneliness. My attempts to form relationships had always failed, either because of my social awkwardness or because the woman I liked was already spoken for. At least on a dating app you know the other person will be single . . .

Barely two weeks have passed when I receive an alert informing me that she has liked my profile. Well, I think, it's only fair if I like hers too. The very next day, she messages me: "Hey xxxxx". I feel a thrill of anticipation: I've only just started on this app and someone already likes me - wow! This dating app lark is so easy! I message her back, asking how how she was doing.

"Can I have your phone number plz? xxx", she then sends to me.

Awkward moment.

"I'm happy to keep talking to you, but it's too early to be exchanging numbers", I say. I hope she isn't put off from contacting me.

"Aw come onnnnnnn", she tells me.

I try to stand firm.

"It's not normal to ask for phone numbers when you've only just made contact."

"Come on, where's the harm?", she asks.

I hesitate, but then give in. I give her my number, and she sends flirtatious texts to me, and I send them back. We exchange messages for a few days: at first I am pleased and flattered by her attentions, but as the days go by I realise that she isn't the one for me. The question is, how to tell her that.

"Thanks for your interest, but I don't really think we're suited."

I hope she will understand.

"Plz don't go, I really like talking to you xxx", she replies.

"I'm sorry, but I just feel we don't fit."

"But we do we do! Yr so amazing!"

"I'm sorry, but I feel I have to end our conversation. Hope you find someone."

I then switch off my phone. Surely if she doesn't get a reply she'll give up.

The next day, I have to put my phone back on to clock into work. There I see a string of messages, so many of them I soon lose count, from her, begging me to think again, to think how she is feeling, to be kind to her, to love her like she loves me, etc. I decide to try one more time.

"Please don't keep texting me it's borderline harassment. I don't want a relationship with you."

Surely if I am firm with her she will finally get the message.

But no. As the days go by she keeps texting me, as well as messaging me on FindAPartner. Her messages become ever more extreme: "But I love you so desperately", "Yr the man of my dreams", "I cd never love another man".

It's time to go to work again. I lock my front door, then turn around to face the street. There, just outside my gate, is her. I jump when I see her, then try to gather myself. I wonder how she found out where I live. As I am closing my gate she comes up to me.

"These are for you my love. A sign of how much I love you."

She offers me a box of chocolates. I take it - what else could I do?

"Thank you", I say, smiling awkwardly.

She throws her arms around me and hugs me as tightly as she can. I wriggle free and walk briskly away, still carrying the box of chocolates.

The next morning, the same thing happens, only this time she gives me a bunch of flowers.

"Thank you", I sigh, "but please stop hanging outside my house, I don't want these gifts."

She leaps for joy, having apparently only heard the "thank you".

That evening, I'm watching the latest episode of Vigil when the doorbell rings. I hang my head: I think I know who it is. I open the door, and there she is.

I try to close the door, but she throws her arms around me and pulls my head down toward hers: I notice she has a wild look in her eyes. Our lips are barely an inch apart when I yank myself out of her unwanted embrace.

"Please stop it! Now!" I have finally lost all patience with her. "I don't like all this . . . all this . . . stalking."

She doesn't reply: she stares at me, seemingly bewildered.

"Go now!", I shout at her. "I mean it!"

She runs off.

One day later. I've left work and I drop in at the police station. I tell the police about her, but they just laugh at me and mock me, joking about love-struck women and suggesting I should have been more of a gentleman. I leave, disappointed but not entirely surprised, and walk home. It's starting to get dark: it's that time of year. Suddenly, I hear something. I stop and listen. Footsteps. With a horrible feeling in my stomach, I turn around. She is following me.