“I stole the dog and cut her tires.”
Don’t let social media be the scale you measure your self-worth on.
“I saw you on the news. That guy got shot at your house and now they are looking for you, but can’t find you. A lot of people think you are dead, but then I was looking at our security camera from a few days ago and I saw you.”
I was doused in sweat now, and too uncomfortable to lie back down, and too cold and shivery to get out of bed. Part of me wanted to check outside, certain something was outside my window.
Toward the end of their toxic marriage, Phil locked Ronnie inside their mansion for months. Ronnie finally escaped Phil’s mansion barefoot past guard dogs and bodyguards and into her mother’s safe arms.
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.