The Stalker*

When Should I Call The Police?

Chapter 1 : Beep

Beep.

I am an undergraduate Japanese girl, hanging out at my university. My phone beeps cause I just got a message. I look down at the screen and my heart jumps. The message is from a guy from my past. I don’t even like the title boyfriend to describe this creep. I haven’t spoken with him in more than a year.

We met and started dating because we both attended the University of Michigan, at the Ann Arbor campus. After a short time, I broke it off. He was very needy and really pressured me for sex.

I’m small, so I’ve heard the way guys talk about girls like me. “She is easy to control, and her butt bounces well on my knees. . . hahaha.”

My ex-boyfriend, let’s call him Stalker, is about double my size, but with a small penis—hehe— yet I never felt like he would be my protector—instead, I felt his insecurity.

My parents encouraged me years ago to find a Westerner to help me sort through the confusion when I began living life outside of Asia for school. My mentor’s name is RK.

I realized, after talking with RK, that my ex probably needed me so he could feel more secure. When RK told me this, I said, “What the fuck!”

Chapter 2. The Beeping Continues

Beep

What — another message? Fuck!

When I’m nervous or afraid, I swear a little.

Ok, this is getting weird. He sent me another message. Normally, he gives me time to respond. Ok, it’s getting weirder. (My heart is racing now.) He is about a 10-minute walk from where I am now, at a nearby Starbucks.

I’m sure he thinks this is romantic, like we’re in a movie. I think it’s scary. I even told him this, more than once, before we split up. After all, this isn’t the first time that he made me feel this way.

I haven’t spoken to this creep in more than a year. He lives in France now and I live in Michigan. If he is here only to see me, this is creepy. I hope he has something to do other than send me messages. I mean, who the hell jumps on a plane and crosses the ocean to see a girl who told him multiple times, “Don’t surprise me anymore. Call first. Let me invite you.”

Haha (my nervous laugh). Honestly, I never kept my side of the deal by inviting him. However, that was my prerogative.

What have I learned? Most men his age (late 20s) that are not in a stable job and do not know how to quickly make me feel comfortable and important are the wrong guys to date. The guys I have met are clueless about what I need. They only think of themselves, tend to be very needy, and never really consider how their “romantic” actions are affecting me.

Chapter 3. A Little Back Story

The last time we were together, it ended badly. He shocked me by unexpectedly showing up at my Ann Arbor home. I lived in a building with about 200 other students. We all had small apartments, so most of us lived alone. Most people called these small apartments big bedrooms with utilities (a small kitchen and bath). When I arrived one night after class, he was waiting near the building entrance. As luck would have it, in my building the security personnel, who are all men, happily let him in since he was my “boyfriend.” They remembered him a little, according to his story, because they had met in the past.

You can probably imagine my shock when I walked into the lobby of my place in the late evening, tired from my long day, and was approached in a dimly lit hallway by a seeming stranger who was over six feet tall. I’m 5’6”, so you can imagine me looking up while he was looking down.

He had startled me and I let him know it — in fact, I was shaking. In his mind, this didn’t matter. He told me that he loved me and demanded that I give him a chance to prove his love by forcing his way into my apartment. He assured me that he would not take no for an answer.

As he continued to prove his love to me, in the middle of the lobby, I kept looking around for the security guards, or someone who would help. All I wanted was for someone to realize that I was distressed, so they could offer me a lifeline.

Instead, people passed and tried to ignore us because they probably presumed that we were having a lover’s quarrel. After all, who wants to get into the middle of one of those? I soon lost hope that I could persuade him to honor my request by leaving my building and having the talk on another date, in a location of my choosing. 

With me feeling helpless, we headed up to my apartment. In the end, he stayed much longer. I asked him to leave about 20 times but he insisted on staying until I agreed that he loved me and he would never hurt me. In fact, he blocked the door, so he could tell me how much he loved me.  

When he finally left, I sat on my bed, held my favorite stuffed animal real tight, and cried. I considered the positives, such as he didn’t force himself on me and demand sex; you know, date rape. I admit it, I got off easy — I’ve heard many other stories.

Even after an hour had passed, I noticed how I was still going in and out of shaking. I realized a full-blown panic attack kept hinting that it was near. I also wondered if I would experience PTSD, at some point in the future. Yes, I felt that shook up.

Ironically, I imagined him walking away with his strut. Proud that he had stood his ground and demanded from me the one thing I could not give him: my love.

You gotta remember, guys like him know they are double my size. Many have developed the belief system that we all, my uni girlfriends and me, love giving blowjobs and more. Sex is an important part of life and all, but we fake enjoying it a lot more than men realize.

After the experience was over, I called RK. He made a comment about how unaware my ex was about his behavior. I remember his words.

“It’s a bit scary how blind he is to your true feelings and needs.”

I then blurted out, “He doesn’t really love me. He loves my body. He loves the feeling of power when he is near me. I hear it all the time. I pretend to like hearing it. I even wear dresses and makeup sometimes to play the flirty game. I like the attention, but it gets really creepy at times.”  

RK summarized what I had been thinking. My ex had made me a prisoner in my own home for more than 30 minutes. After my ex left, I typed a long message in WhatsApp in UPPER CASE letters to him explaining how angry I was. I also warned him to never surprise me like that again. 

He pretended to agree in a short responsive text message.  

Stalker: Ok. I will remember your request. But you must understand, I love you and needed to see you. Thanks for understanding.

Chapter 4 : My Wandering Mind

Back to the present day


As I stare at all these text messages coming in, I allow my mind to wander a little too long on a shortlist of scary possibilities.

What if he knows I live alone?

I moved from the old apartment, but maybe he found my new home.

Maybe he had been watching me all day.

What if he is waiting near my new home now?

Worse, maybe he is at a local coffee shop, like across the street.

Shit! This makes me so fucking angry because — he scares me.

What if he is lying in these texts? Maybe he is spying on me and playing another one of his stupid games. I hate his games.

Ok, I am feeling a panic attack coming on. If I call my mom, she will tell me I am overthinking it; after all, she doesn’t know all the past details, especially about the sex.

I gotta call RK. He’ll know how to deal with this creep.

Self-pep talk: “Pull yourself together, Sakura. Send a quick message to this creep. Buy some time.”

Ok, I am ready to send a message to this creep and buy some time.

Me: Hi. Why are you here? I told you not to surprise me like this!

Stalker: Hi. I miss you and want to see you. . .I love you and have gifts for you.

Me: I’m busy. I wish you had sent a message and asked me if I am ready for you to visit. We agreed on that.

Stalker: I flew all the way from France to say hi. I miss you so much. I want to apologize for my behavior.

Me: You mean, you flew here from France just to visit with me? No other reason?

Stalker: Yeah. When I’m in love, I do stuff like this.

The only word that came to my mind to describe him was stalker. The word creep just wasn’t good enough.

I am shaking so much at this point, I can only think of one message to send.

Me: I’ll send you a message later today, in the evening. I am busy now.

Stalker: Ok. Love you. I have some gifts for you.

I need another self-pep talk: It’s time to do those breathing exercises RK taught me and to focus on stopping these crazy thought patterns. I know that when I imagine the worst, it never happens. RK has reminded me of this a hundred times.

Time for my last message to Stalker and then I will contact RK.

Me: Don’t contact me again today. I’ll contact you later. I’ll send you a message tonight or in the morning.

Stalker: Ok.

Chapter 5: Who is This Stalker?

It’s time for a little more background.

Who is the crazy love-sick man who is giving me all this very unwanted attention?

In the beginning, he was the perfect gentleman, but something about him made me nervous. I didn’t put the puzzle together until I discussed it with RK. RK looked at a few pictures of this creep on Facebook, looked at some of the texts he sent me on WhatsApp, and asked me a few questions. RK used a short phrase to describe him: a broken man. When he said this, it brought me great comfort because I thought I had been overthinking it.

I had felt physically and sexually threatened by this guy on more than one occasion, including when he forced me to stay in my apartment with him. He said he wanted to “prove he loved me,” as mentioned above. Since the title Creepy doesn’t do him justice, I changed it to Stalker. Who the hell flies from France to America with no notice to bring flowers to a girl he hasn’t seen in more than one year and then announces his arrival while he is literally a 10-minute walk away from the girl? What kind of man is so love-sick that he is totally oblivious to how his behavior is scaring or even repulsing the girl he is trying to win over?

In case you are wondering, I am from Asia and we often use the term girl instead of young woman. There is a short list of reasons why Asian people, both locally and nationally, prefer to call us girls. One of my favorites is because of our youthful appearance, for I am twenty-five years old but most people say that I look like I am about 18.

So guys, if you are trying to win over the girl of your dreams because you want to marry her, this is not the way. You will probably freak her out and the cops will be knocking on your door if something does happen to her; after all, you will be suspect number one.

Chapter 6: A Panic Attack

Back to now.

Good, a few minutes have passed and he hasn’t sent any messages.

It’s time to call RK. He is lives about 45 minutes from my location in Michigan.

Me: Hi got a minute for a call?

RK: Yes.

Time to call.

“Hi.”

“Are you ok?”

He heard the panic in my voice.

“Don’t know. My ex, you know, just showed up at my home in Ann Arbor and is demanding to see me. You know the story.”

“Yes, I do.”

It’s nice having someone to call who knows the details, so there is no reason for a lot of backstory and so on.

“Can you help me make this creep go away?”

“Hahaha, yes. I’ll probably have some time later today, perhaps two or three hours from now. However, let’s take a minute or two to set things up.”

For the first time in more than an hour, I am beginning to relax, including the slowing of my breathing and heart rate.

“You have two phones, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to remove an anxiety trigger. Do you know what I mean by anxiety trigger?”

“Yes. Some noise or something that causes me to begin panicking, like when the phone beeps cause a message came in. Let me adjust my phone now.”

“Good. Turn the beeping noise off of the phone that is receiving the messages. Good?”

“Yeah,” I grunted.

“I am guessing you do not need that phone for any specific purpose in the next hour or two, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Next, send me a screenshot of the current conversation. We can give him some things to think about. Once that is done, turn that phone off. The next time you send him a message, you’ll be in a different state of mind, a different emotional state. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

Just listening to RK’s voice and feeling the laughter chase away my fears and tears is making the moment more enjoyable.

I was programmed well at an early age to jump into panic attacks. My mother likes to yell a lot and I often felt like I might be corrected at any time for even breathing wrong.

Oh shit, my childhood voice is beginning to speak. It likes to talk to me as though we are two different people.

“You are so needy, Sakura, so pathetic. Be strong. Don’t think these bad thoughts. You overthink everything.”

I am trying to be strong, but when I was young, no one taught me how to deal with men like this or these racing thoughts. I had been taught to be reliant on my church elders. Now in my 20s, I had found a handful of people who are teaching me how to grow up and understand what is good for me.

Why do I need to call someone to help me solve these problems? How badly have I been trained by my culture in Japan? Why hadn’t I learned to stand up for myself better?

The answers will take more than what I share in this story.

Chapter 7: Time to Say Bye Bye

This is a copy of the conversation I had with the Stalker after RK got involved. I kept my word by sending him a message later that evening.

August activities:

2 more chapters are left. Soon we plan to offer this as a free ebook on amazon. All we need is your email.

The sooner we hear from you the better.

RK is a hypnotist. His goal is to help people through traumatic events while growing this community through sales on amazon and other global platforms.

Soon we plan to offer the following:

01 Online and face to face support for people who have had similar experiences to the stories we offer.

02 Online and face to face support for people who want to share their story, which could become part of a book.

03 Other resource such as educational materials for children and adults.