“I admit it: I’ve stooped to snooping on boyfriends on many an occasion.”
I, as a woman, assume I can speak for all women, which I can’t, but I think I have a pretty good gauge on what makes women seem a little crazy at times.
Running into each other at the mall is not stalking. Him adding you on Facebook is not stalking. My personal favorite: Him calling or texting you after you gave him your number is not stalking. Stalking is a serious criminal offense and a term that shouldn’t be thrown around loosely.
As a guy I’d always assumed having a female stalk me would be kind of cool. Flattering, in a non-threatening kind of way. You know, good for my self esteem, self-confidence increasing with each uninvited appearance. Each knock on the window at 2 o’clock in the morning giving me butterflies of enhanced ego, insecurities just pat-pat-pattering their wings as they disappeared, flying off into the Italian night.
I was wrong.
1. Text him all day, every day and ask him why he’s ignoring you when he doesn’t respond quickly enough.
1. Painted cat whiskers on my face and told a boy—in graphic detail—about the crocodilian reproductive system.
When we slip up in the parallel universe of social media, how do we cope with it in the real world?
I just want him to find peace.
7. Picking their nose.
4. You really aren’t one hundred percent sure he would never do it again.