I have a casual stalker. When I say casual, I mean a creepy person who I bump into from time to time. From what I've heard, regular stalkers tend to be more predictable. They send letters, which allow you to anticipate their next stage of creepiness. My experiences are a bit more unnerving. I’ll be sitting at the Loft (university cafeteria) eating my abnormally large meal when I hear a distant “hey.” I’ll whip my head around and a nervous young man will be standing just two feet away from me. Talk about chilling. He looks at the ground and asks me about my winter break. I say it was fine and then I reciprocate with some equally bland question. In my head, I’m counting the seconds he is wasting with me. He looks at the ground again for another six seconds and then says good-bye. He’s going to hang out with his “buddy Chris.” Poor Chris.
This whole stalker ordeal started last semester. I was at the Loft, naturally, stuffing my face with some processed brunch food when I made eye contact with this awkward young man. Now I’m no social savant but I do know that it’s better to keep your weirdness to yourself. Something most of us pick up when our bodies begin to change. It was obvious that this guy had not learned that lesson. And it was equally obvious that he was looking for some place to sit. As a casual observer I looked at him. He looked back at me. I looked at him again… shit. He asked if he could sit down at the table. I said, “Of course,” gesturing toward the chairs farthest from me. He puts his stuff right next to me. Not across from me, but right next to me. As if we’re adjacent cattle eating out of the same feed bin. Then he leaves to get some food. Why on earth did this Martian have to interrupt my lazy Sunday morning? To make matters worse he comes back with a salad. I am eating eggs and biscuits with gravy. We converse for a while. I compliment him on his (pretentious) choice to eat a salad at brunch. He blabs on about how he was an athlete in high school and I blank out for a while. To keep things sane, I ask him about his major. He tells me he’s in Industrial Supervision; it sounds fictional. Don’t they only teach that in the Eastern Block? It sounds like code for “I’m a mobster.” I explain that I’m a Theater major. In an attempt to relate, he tells me his roomie put up an artistic poster. Now I just want to rip my hair out. Silence falls over the table. A few minutes later he points out the sunflower seeds on his stupid salad. “I just love sunflower seeds,” he says, “I could eat a whole bowl of sunflower seeds, but I won’t because that’s silly.” Now I’m assuming his roomie is a doll he talks to before falling asleep in a makeshift cage his parents put him in so he’ll quite” harassing the neighbors.” I'd like to point out that I have never learned his name and I doubt I ever will.
At first, these sorts of instances make me think I should stop eating alone in public places. However, I don’t think I should feel pressured to change my perfectly normal ways. Society creates this assumption that if you‘re alone you are sad, shy, mentally ill, or just plain selfish. Well I say other people are selfish; my stalker’s creepiness is not nearly as offensive as his assumption that I wanted company. I am perfectly happy ; my shyness isn’t your business; and if I’m mentally ill, you’re just going to want to steer clear of me completely.
As if I want to share my time with someone I don’t know. The gall of some people... Individuals that I barely know invite me to their tables. What do they expect us to talk about? After the weather, we’re pretty much screwed. My stalker and I both understand loneliness, but unlike him I don’t see anything wrong with it.
