Apologizing, I cleaned it up and the doctor and I watched the rest of the recordings Each night followed the same routine: I would go to sleep and an hour or so later, the man, who never gave a good look at his face, entered, laid down next to me and then left just before sunrise. The man never did anything sinister, never anything sexual, never even touched me and for some reason it made the whole thing that much worse to me personally. I took the tapes down to the police station.
They were little to no help. Weaned on a steady diet of cop shows, I expected to be helped out by a dangerously-attractive male/female detective duo in their late-20s/early-30s who regularly peppered their conversation with flirtations at each other, but was far from what I got. I got one middle-aged guy with ears caked with flaky psoriasis who all but admitted he didn’t give a shit about my case. He directly mentioned that any case without violence took a backseat in a district that was home to gangs of five different ethnicities.
Every night after this day has pretty much been outright hell. I didn’t even go back to my apartment. I had my dad and brother go in there and get my important shit and moved into my old room at my parents’ house 15 miles away from my old apartment.
Despite my parents’ high-tech security system, heavy locks on my old bedroom door and windows, the presence of my former USC linebacker dad in the house and the family German Shepherd that was now sleeping outside my door, I would be lucky if I could muster a few hours of restless sleep each night. Everything in my life suffered. I could hardly focus at work I was so tired, my already-struggling social life became non-existent and I had zero trust for any men I met, so I had to forget about dating.
