“I’m sure glad I called THAT guy”
-Billy Madison
Right after high school, I briefly lost my drivers license, for what i maintain to this day was a massive miscarriage of justice… At the local pub following one of my softball games, I ran into the local pariah. She was the one, many people in this post maintain themselves to have been, only more so.
She attached herself to me like a drunken pariah often will, and I - cruelly (I can admit after these 20 odd years) allowed her to. Because it was late, all my friends had gone, I was forced to accept her offer of a ride home. Finding that the pariah wasn’t such a bad person, in fact funnier than all hell, I even asked her out.
We dated about 5-6 times over the next month, not seriously, but seriously physically. One night, coming home from ChicagoFest, where I had run into an old flame that was still brightly lit in my eyes, she dropped me at home. I opened her car door, said “Well, it’e been nice…” and left.
Never called, never made an effort to see her again. Until my own daughter is in high school, and introduces me to her friend, 'Daughter of the Pariah". I say, “hi, D of the P, hey you know i know your mom”. D of the P laughs and says, “yes, I’ve heard the story, but I’m still allowed to speak politely to you”.
Now, a few years later, fences have been mended, and the fact that one can be a complete ass at one age, and a decent fella at another are accepted.
Ugh. I’m very loathe to admit this because it’ll make me look really, really bad but here goes. I’ve never actually told this to anyone in full either. Please don’t give me any ‘its all your fault, you’re the bad guy and shoulve known better’ shit either because things like this never go away. And if you people do at least take it to the pit.
About 5 years ago I met some girl at her place of business. I came on pretty strong (flirted with her, waved to her), and she seemed to like that. A few weeks later I asked her out but because my social skills at asking people out were so poor back then she laughed in my face and pretended she didn’t know me. My social skills were also so poor that I didn’t realize she was laughing at me. Thank god that phase is over and i’m more or less socially competent now.
So I go home and decide ‘why don’t I just give her a note telling her how I feel’ so socially inept me writes this note and gives it to her. A couple of weeks go by and I don’t get any reply, then two weeks later I get an email from her saying ‘meet me at where I work’. So I go there and my instincts are screaming at me to stay the hell away but I ignore them for some reason.
So I go up there and I notice everyone is staring at me. My instincts still scream but I ignore them, then 10 minutes later two cops enter and corner me. They ask for my ID and I give it to them. They push me into a corner where some old guy is yelling at me and it turns out they want to arrest me for stalking. So the old guy is yelling at me and insulting me so he can look tough in front of his employees, i’m in so much shock that I dont defend myself and the cops are just watching the whole thing. I never cried or anything like that, and I looked everyone in the eye even as they insulted me and i’m proud of that. They tried to break me and failed.
So I get taken to the police station and an interrogator starts interrogating me. After 2 minutes it becomes clear I am not stalking anyone (because I had seen her 3 times in a month they thought that might be a pattern of following her around but it was all coincidental meetings), so the interrogator spends the next hour asking me if I have any friends and things like that. To this day that really, really pisses me off because after that event I went home and read as many books as I could on police interrogation and I know it was all an act, a cold blooded police officer responding to my social inadequacies and vulnerabilities by feigning like he was concerned about my well being or that I could trust him. To this day I hate police officers due to this event and I probably always will. After an hour of interrogation he drops me off in a room and says ‘i’m going to call the place where so and so works and ask if you are banned from all the locations in this town or just the one she works at’ so he disappears for a couple of minutes and comes back and says ‘yeah its all of them’. Then he drives me back to my car and asks if I want to talk. I’m pretty sure he was up to something because he had hours to talk in the interrogation chamber and didn’t. I am pretty sure he had a listening device set up in the parking lot and when he pretended to call where she worked he was just discussing with other officers how they would do this. I believe this for a variety of reasons. I didn’t go for it and said ‘no’ when he asked if I wanted to talk.
Luckily, its not illegal to say things to people (in indiana you don’t need to make a threat to be guilty of stalking, just loiter in their presence, neither of which I did), but god that event changed me inside. I suppose it was for the best, it forced me to grow up really fast. But I’ll never forget and I suppose this is partially why i’m afraid to approach strange women for fear something like this will happen to me again. I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life never dating again rather than go through that again. It doesn’t ‘hurt’ per se but its something that knaws at you inside. I know other people got hurt too.
Oddly, a couple of months later the old guy who was bullying me saw me at a fast food restaurant. He sighed, looked at the floor, and held the door open for me w/o saying anything to me. I suppose he felt guilty since I was treated like a criminal even though I didn’t break the law and because the cops lied to me and manipulated me so much. Who knows though. The best you can do is try to forget.
Wesley, I don’t know why anybody would think that was your fault. That’s terrible. Maybe there was some other story behind the girl’s reaction; maybe she had a history of stalkers or something. Or maybe she was just a (not the Pit) bad person.
Wesley, that’s truly horrendous, what happened to you. You win, I think.
It doesn’t sound to me like you did anything wrong. I’d bet that this woman was either: 1. nuts, or 2. had a big fear of being stalked, possibly because she had some crazy stalker thing happen to her before.
Please don’t give up on dating entirely because of this. Just because some of us have paranoia issues doesn’t mean all of us do.
For once I am glad that I was just socially inept at school and never had a date. At least I did not suffer humiliation on top. {hugs} to everyone with a sad story. Wesley, yours was perhaps the saddest of all. I guess it was just a very bad case of misunderstood intentions. You did nothing wrong.
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again–Amen to that. I want someone who understands me and my unnecessarily thesaurical vocabulary, someone who’d rather watch Star Wars than the Super Bowl, and can fix my computer, if not my car. 
I came in here to tell a story or two about humiliations going back to the first grade. Now I’m all depressed, and I’ve discovered (much like most of you) that some of these things are still too tender to discuss. I learned early on not to trust guys asking me out, and some of my proudest junior high moments were when I verbally pistol-whipped some guy in Cavarecis and an IOU sweatshirt who tried to tell me how much he liked me while his friends snickered ten feet away. (Not the smartest thing in the world–they should at least have hidden out of sight, huh?)
Instead, I’m going to go home and think mean thoughts while looking through my eighth grade yearbook. 
Yay I win. I would’ve prefered to win something like ‘most attractive doper’ but i’ll settle for ‘most depressing life event’.
I don’t know if mine is the worst. For some reason i’ve never felt pain because of it (For various reasons I tend to believe someone/something was trying to protect me from these people before and during the event). I have only felt a feeling of violation and anger, but no pain. Others here have felt pain and pain is alot worse than feeling violated.
And its not all bad. It did teach me that I had no social skills and needed them quick. All those people were just minding their own business and when I entered the scene I rocked the boat to hell and back for those people. Had it not been with them it would’ve been with some other event i’m sure. I would’ve kept rocking the boat and getting people angry and humiliated. Its partially their fault for overreacting but partially mine for being inept socially.
What bothers me is that I can’t forget it. I don’t think a day goes by that I don’t think about it. I have tried to forgive those people for what they did but its hard to totally forgive people, you have to work on it. But the more you forgive the less hold it has on you. I have alot of hate for the police interrogator and some hate for the old guy who bullied me, but virtually none for the girl. In retrospect she came across as pretty self centered and cruel (from her laughing in my face a few weeks before) so really, what can you expect from somoene like that? The old guy and the interrogator were more culpable and responsible though, so I hate them alot more. But god, the hate for my interrogator is so deep sometimes because of how he manipulated me and lied to me and feigned concern for me so he could try to ruin my life more effectively. But anger won’t solve anything or change anything, I have to try to let it go so the anger won’t harm me.
Plus, what is odd is that before and after it happened I had images in my head, like a fleeting though that I didn’t consciously know I had until later. I don’t want to debate clarivoyance or anything, but I know after I gave her the letter I had an image of her and some old guy with white hair reading it. The old guy I saw was the same guy who bullied me a few weeks later, even though i’d never seen him before. When I got the email I had an image of a fat asian/white guy in a long sleeve white shirt sitting at a computer, and that is what the police interrogator (who sent the email) looked like. I also had an image a few weeks later of one of the people who worked there (some woman at the desk who was there when I was arrested) quitting because she didn’t want to work in a place that treated people that way. So if thats true maybe I got some justice because there was some debate on whether I was mistreated. The fact that nobody seemed to care about what they were doing to me bothers me, like my well being isn’t/wasn’t even an issue. The only one who ‘cared’ was the guy whose job it was to fake like he cared (the police interrogator). Nobody else asked about me or tried to help me and I think that is what bothers me the most. Some cop with a moustache felt sorry for me, which is nice, but aside from that, eh.
Perhaps its good to discuss this, i’ve never been able to because I was convinced it was my fault and I was going to be treated like dirt for ‘stalking’ someone.
I don’t really have many — I got ignored by women a lot but seldom actively abused.
One that stung a little and also made me sad for how things might have been different, though… I was 17ish and had my own car, and what we did back then in Los Alamos was head off down one of 9-10 known jeep roads into the back country and set up kegs and music and light a big-ass bonfire and mingle around it drinking beer and smoking pot. There was a girl a year or so younger than me and the other guys called her lots of contemptuous names for being sexually active with a bit of track record. I always thought that was a stupid attitude (like these guys weren’t happy enough to join in and help her make that track record if given the opportunity?). I meanwhile was a virgin guy and distinctively shy and not sexually aggressive and I caught some attitude often enough for “not being right” myself, so when in the liquor store parking lot (where we always gathered to hear the word on where the party was tonight) and she asked if she could ride up with me, I was happy about that.
I had long been a dramatically unpopular guy and had no girlfriend (had not, in fact, had a girlfriend since I was 9) although I was more accepted among the weekened pot-party crowd. I had no anticipation of “getting lucky” and didn’t assume that she was going to become my girlfriend just because she had come to the party with me, but the emphatic rapidity with which she detached from me once we arrived seemed unnecessary. I really thought she might want to talk some and find out who each other were a bit, you know?
Well, maybe you could win something like, “most attractive doper.” I have no idea. Have you posted a pic in the Doper photo threads?
I don’t have a digital camera, and I always take bad pictures of myself. I need someone else to take a picture for me.
My little tale of pain doesn’t compare to most of what’s already been shared, so I’ll quickly summarize with the abbreviated version, to wit: In college, I fell in love with one of my roommates (big multi-bedroom apartment). I told her so. Initially reluctant, she finally said she liked me enough to try a relationship. A few weeks go by; I’m very happy. Then she says she’s calling it off because she doesn’t want to be attached right now; she wants to be single, she says. And then a couple of days later, at the weekly household expense review meeting, she seems surprised that I’m confused by one of her grocery receipts showing a purchase of two boxes of condoms. “Oh, yeah, I met this other guy, sorry…” As if she wasn’t going to say anything and was thinking so little about what she was doing that she didn’t think I’d recognize what the item on the receipt meant. That was a serious 
moment.
I’ve posted about this before, and it doesn’t really help with the sadness, but it does cut down on the confusion.
Basically, remember that we’re primates. We’re in the same group as chimps, gorillas, and the like. And those primate social groupings are ruthless about tormenting and ostracizing the weak and undesirable members of the collective. In the forest or on the savannah, this behavior makes sense, because it keeps the group strong and thereby ensures survival for the majority. But in human society, it’s an unfortunate vestigial holdover from those earlier aeons. Really, for all our self-aggrandizing about our advanced natures, we really aren’t much different from the dumb animals we’re related to; our acquisition of language and technology merely permits us to employ those talents in the same stupid animal activities we engaged in before we could speak and think.
Like I said, this doesn’t make the cruelty hurt any less, but at least there’s a pseudo-rational reason for it. Just imagine the snickering fratboys as hooting baboons, keeping an undesirable individual at the fringe of the group for no reason beyond the fact that millions of years of instinct is telling them to do it. And further, you can feel superior to them, because they’re still slaves to their wiring who profit from the benefits of civilization without contributing much to it.
Read Robert Sapolsky’s A Primate’s Memoir for more insights into human behavior as glimpsed through the lens of his primate studies.
Just reinforces how truly malevolent high school students can be, and that short of guaranteeing me perfect happiness and love for the rest of my life, nothing could make reliving such hell worth it.
I went to a high school of about 1600, and the first two years were absolute hell. One of the popular guys decided to start making fun of me my freshman year, and it caught on, big time. I lived about a half-mile from the school, and it was rare that someone didn’t drive by and yell or throw something at me. People would leave stuff on my desk, try to trip me, follow me home, etc., and when I was finally desperate enough to tell a teacher (I was in her class with this guy and his clique), she told me that ‘boys will be boys’, and I should stop being so sensitive. (This was in 1992, mind you, not 1892.)
If you really wanted to embarrass a guy, really belittle him, you would announce (in front of the class, of course) that he was dating me. So I became paranoid and cynical. I assumed people were making fun of me, since I was usually right. I assumed I was a Medusa-stone-turning-mirror-cracking ugly girl, since I had been told as much directly to my face. I hated everyone.
By the time I got to college, I had the self-esteem of your average bottom-feeding sea urchin. I met J in my Honors (oh, I was really proud of that) English comp class my first week of college. He seemed to like me, which was an experience akin to looking up at the sky and the person next to you commenting on the remarkable wingspan of the dragon flying overhead - you just don’t get what they’re talking about. We started dating, sort of, since we were both emotionally stunted. I liked him a lot, but could never bring myself to kiss him (nor could he kiss me, we were both so shy). He had me wrapped around his little finger - I would (and did) do anything for him. I remember he was trying out for College Jeopardy, and I would actually make audio tapes of the trivia he needed to memorize. I cleaned his house. I was just so happy to have someone like me, I gave up myself.
In retrospect, I’m lucky that we were never physical; this experience could have been so much worse had I fallen into the hands of a guy who knew what he was doing. Anyway, spring semester rolls around, and we’re still doing our dating-without-ever-actually-doing-anything. I finally started to get pissed off about being a doormat, and began to stand up for myself. He then decided to let me in on a little secret: his ‘real’ girlfriend was back home, and I was little more than a tool. He had never cared about me. He accused me of stalking him.
Talk about ‘hell hath no fury…’ I was rabid. I felt cheated, used and embarrassed. I felt a fool for believing someone could care about me. In a move I’m really not so proud of, I called the girl in question to let her know she was not the only one, and then I called his mother and told her. <shudders>
And a minor one: I was lonely as hell when I first moved to Madison. I met this guy that, while I didn’t like him so much, seemed to like me, and I was unfortunately willing to compromise. His last girlfriend had cheated on him and broken his heart. We dated for about about two months, I would say, until he broke up with me, because I wasn’t as pretty as his ex.
Forza, to all the geeks who doubt themselves - I’m an (usually) intelligent, attractive (evidence in the ‘Am I Ugly?’ thread ) girl who is still enchanted most by the quiet boy in the back of the class, who knows all sorts of amazing things about the world.
aurelian - thats sad. But if you don’t mind weird compliments from the guy who was accused of stalking 5 years ago I have to say that your situation is actually motivating for me in my approaches/interactions with women. Whenever I see attractive women like you I assume they are going to be haughty, full of themselves or cruel because I assume men have bent over backwards for them their whole lives because of how they look. To see women like you or SusanStoHelit who are attractive but down to earth and approachable is really motivating. I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover.
I have two stories to share, thankfully not as scarring as some of the others described in this thread.
First there was this, which a friend of mine was kind enough to draw for me that very evening.
Second: a lovely young woman I knew was convinced she was ugly and worthless. I had a mad crush on her, so I was in the delightful position of being able to tell her she was beautiful and worthwhile and have her reply with “awesome, let’s date!” instead of “get away from me, you ugly creep”. This lovely state of affairs continued for several months; it then emerged that I’d built her self-esteem up enough for her to break up with me and date, in her words, “someone who’s more fun. Er, no offense.” Ow.
Oh, and I second the kudos for the writing abilities of Stranger on a Train.
On preview: aurelian, thanks for helping me keep the faith, even if you do live in friggin’ Madison, Wisconsin. But do I get to know what forza means?
Taran, that’s harsh. Great comic, though!
What’s wrong with Madison? Lots of exercise excavating your car, ice-fishing, beer in boots, and of course Wisconsin is home to my good friend John Gard, the midwest’s answer to Rick Santorum. Yay!
(and forza is Italian for ‘go!’, ‘strength!’)
To Wesley: there are women like that… it bothers me, too. There was a girl and her friends in front of me in line at a sub shop once; she was cute, what I think of as a ‘bar blonde’ (blond, short, pretty but not a knockout). She was talking to her friends and said: “Ya, you know, I was going to study real hard and learn a career, you know, and be an independent woman and all, you know, but, now, like, I think I’m just going to marry a rich guy.” :smack: Girls like that give the rest of us a bad name. <grumbles>
I think my mom was right - I remember asking her in college why I couldn’t find someone kinda like me - a bit too cerebral, maybe, but sincere and sensitive. She asked me where I was on that Saturday night. “Well, in my dorm room, of course.” “So are they.” It’s just hard to find someone.
I’ll buy you a boot if you’re ever in Madison.
Private school isn’t any better. I was stuck with the same people from kindergarten through 8th grade and they decimated my self esteem. I was short and shy and that’s all the ammo they needed. I remember we had “graduation” from 8th grade and everyone was supposed to dress up. I couldn’t find a dress that fit because I was so petite, so my mom and I picked out a pattern and she made me a beautiful dress. So here I was thinking I was looking pretty damned good, when one of the popular boys started making fun of it. I ended up hiding in the girls bathroom until the teacher finally found me. Then the ultimate horror - she made him apologize in front of the class. It’s nowhere near as awful as some of the other stories here.
I did get revenge though. A decade later I ran into the same guy. Turns out I was just an ugly duckling in grade school. He just got ugly. <Nelson Muntz laugh>
That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. Thank you.
I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I was dumped because, as he explained it, he thought that I, being in grad school and all, would be coming up with all sorts of interesting stuff for us to do–lectures to attend, and whatnot.
Instead, I confess, I was mostly tired and burnt out, and just wanted to eat stuff, read Cosmo and watch silly movies. But come on, what was he looking for, a damn cruise director?
It’s such a relief to hear that someone else was like this in grad school, too. I was like this, and I was so convinced I was the only one, that I didn’t even want to talk about it with anyone else.