Yes, it’s true. Last night on my way home I was waiting in a station of dare I say, hipster fame, when I saw somebody that I used to know. It was a person I had once considered a friend. One day it all went sour. I won’t go into details, but the phrase “cease and desist” may have been bandied about. We’ll call this person my Former Friend (FF).
Both of us are transplants to the Big Apple. I moved to Brooklyn about five years ago and FF moved here about two years ago. I figured our seeing each other in Brooklyn was likely some day, but it still caught me by surprise.
FF passed me on the platform. I swear we made eye contact, but FF made no indication of recognition. I thought maybe I was wrong, so when the train arrived, I followed FF onto the same car–different door–and snuck creepy little peeks to be sure.
Then, lo, FF got off at my stop headed toward the station exit opposite from mine. So I started to follow. Several yards behind. Podcast in my ears. Pink Panther theme song in my heart.
Maybe I shuffled my feet or maybe FF could feel me staring; but something made FF turn around, and I panicked. I flipped my course almost mid-step and bolted up the stairs and out my normal station exit. I kept my eyes fixed ahead of me, with the fear of Lot’s wife’s fate in my soul. In my head, the whole thing was totally stealthy. Like a ninja.
I don’t know if FF actually ever saw me or recognized me or what. There was never any indication.
Maybe instead of stalking FF, I should have just walked over blithely and said something like, “Oh hai, FF! How’s it going? Hope you’re not still litigious. Byeee!”
Have you ever stalked or been stalked?
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