30 September 2014

LE STALKER

So I had a strange call from my friend Troy the other day.

A couple of months ago, The Gays and I flew to Switzerland for our friend Troy's birthday. A whole weekend of debauchery ensued and we put to bed the idea that nothing fun ever happens in Switzerland.

Well, at least when we're there.

The weekend culminated in a visit to the gay night at a normally straight bar for further debauchery that concluded with me pashing a local, and although the details are blurry, I was frog marched back to his apartment where we rolled around for a while in the vain effort of getting each other off.

Let's call him Le Stalker for reasons that will become apparent.

Anyway it was mid way through our frisson that I started to sober up. It was also mid way through our frisson that I realised Le Stalker wasn't really for me. To put it mildly, I chewed my arm off in preparation for the morning.

Suddenly my phone rang and as if hearing my plea, one of The Gays, Andy, had gotten lost on his way home and needed me to come find him. I apologised to Le Stalker and asked if he could help locate him.

Well as though Le Stalker had received a laureate in finding people, he sprung into action and immediately located Andy with a series of questions that even Andy in his fucked state could answer. I was like, "Just send a drop pin." But anyway.

We found Andy, I thanked Le Stalker, hailed a cab, gave him a peck, asked him to translate to the driver where we were going and got the hell out of dodge.

Andy apologised for cutting my orgasm short and I thanked Andy for cutting my orgasm short.

The whole gang flew back to London and got on with our respective lives.

Then Troy called.

"Hi Troy how are you?"

"I'm good. Erm I don't know how to say this other than I've got a letter for you."

"What?"

"I have a letter for you. It's from Le Stalker*."

"Who?" I sat up on my couch running a mental rolodex.

"Le Stalker the guy you met when you came to Switzerland?"

"Huh?"

"Well the letter is actually addressed to me. Let me read it to you: Dear Troy, first of all, I'm very sorry to have hounded you down (took a while since May) Laurence gave me his number - I've had a bit of a problem with it; or perhaps there hasn't been a problem with it. In any event, could I ask you to thank him for what was for me a very special evening. Hounding stops here. Sincerely, Le Stalker**."

"Oh thank God. I thought this was going to be one of those, 'I've just gotten back from the clinic - you should really get yourself checked out' kinda messages. Ermagod, is Le Stalker stalking me?" were my thoughtful responses.

"Well, technically I think Le Stalker is my stalker," said Troy.

"Yes that is true. Sorry."

"The thing that I wanna know is how did he find my address AND my name?"

"Well I told him your address so he could tell the cab driver where to take us, he's obviously committed it to memory, but that doesn't explain how he knows your name," I said.

"And what does he mean 'having a problem with your number'?" asked Troy.

"Well I gave him my number. I'm sure I gave him the right number. I haven't had any missed calls or odd phone calls from Swiss men teeing up another 'special evening'."

He can memorise where Troy lives, find out his first and last name, but cracking international dialling codes are beyond him. He's not as committed to the stalking lifestyle as I thought.

"The thing is, even if you wanted to get in contact, he hasn't left any return address or number in the letter," said Troy. "Essentially it's a thank you note."

"Well that's good. At least I don't need to feel guilty about not getting in contact with him."

"What on earth did you do to him?" laughed Troy.

"I don't know!"

I have to say, it really wasn't that special. I made a few advances into the groinal area. He tried to stick it in to which I called halt to. Then Andy called. It was hardly anything to write home about. Or to a virtual stranger for that matter.

"Well it sounds like his whole life was leading up to this moment. I think it's really romantic."

"Er no. I think whether a grand gesture is deemed romantic or stalky is dependent on how attractive you find the other person. I don't find him attractive, ergo on a scale of 1 to creepy, this is Dame Judy Dench in Notes on a Scandal creepy."

"Why is it that it's never the hot guys who stalk you, Laurence?"

"Because they don't have to! They're the ones being stalked! And if they aren't being stalked, there are so many up to the minute options that mean the rest of us are one text, one Instagram like, one Grindr DM away from being bumped for a hotter guy. When will it ever be an equal amount of stalking from both concerned? Is it too much to ask that I get stalked as much as I stalk them?"

"You're right! Just don't put that in your Grindr profile."

*Le Stalker was not called Le Stalker until the writing of this blog post.
** Le Stalker does not know that his name is Le Stalker, although judging by the aforementioned efforts, he does.

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