I took a risk starting a blog. I take a huge risk making it public rather than just a private diary that a select few friends and family can enjoy upon invitation. You see, I’ve been stalked before. I acquired my first stalker at about 16 or 17 years old. Her boyfriend was looking for a way out of her craziness, and apparently, I stole him. Personally, I think he was of sound mind and in charge of his own thoughts when he asked me to prom. I said no, at first, because I knew about her. A few fish heads in the mailbox, a few physical threats and one minor physical assault later, she was suspended from school and later institutionalized for her obsession with me. I’m so thankful for my mom for helping me out with that one. At the time, I couldn’t have handled it alone.
Later, apparently, I got locked into a profession that attracted a few stalkers. I’ve somehow managed to avoid harm with each one. My favorite of all of them was the biker gang threat. Two dudes decided I needed to be taught a lesson and threatened to put a hit out on me. I made a half bluff on that one and escaped without a scratch. Allow me to explain…
I met him at my place of work. I rescued him. Someone of lesser morals than me drugged him rendering him unable to get his bike back to his hotel. I got him and his bike back safely and without incident, his wallet in tact. The next day, he ‘kidnapped’ me from a bike wash. Sure, I could have put up a more strenuous objection, but it was all in good, clean fun.
Well, the next year, he came back. By that time, I had met my husband. My husband and I accepted his request to visit and welcomed him into our home. We had one condition. We have a teenage boy in the house. Please do not break the federal and state drug laws in our home. We’re all for a good party, but we like to show a good example to the kid in our house, and we like to keep things legal to set a good example. Little did I know, rules would be broken. Little did I know, I would be ‘kidnapped’ again. This time, I wasn’t so willing.
That situation turned bad fast when I went with these two gents to a bar and would not get on the back of a bike with a drunk driver. I cried that night, and I don’t like crying. I don’t like it one bit. I only cry when I’m angry, and I don’t like feeling trapped. It’s happened too often in the past, but that’s a subject for another blog post.
In then end, deep apologies were made, all was forgiven, and life went on. The real threat came almost another year later. You see, this gentleman and his accompanying friend lost themselves one night on Vicodin and alcohol. The were angry at me because they thought I owed them and refused to buy them a hammock. Yes, that’s what this whole thing was over… a hammock.
My husband and I were told I would disappear one day at the hand of a biker gang because I wouldn’t purchase a hammock for someone hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away. I never slept with either gentleman involved. I always made it clear that I have standards I will not compromise, so drama in the frisky department was never a factor. I insisted on no strings attached. I was NEVER an “old lady” in a biker gang. I had worked for bikers, though. They respected me enough to invite me to their clubhouse twice. So, I told these two gents what I knew…
“You’re putting a biker hit out on me in MY territory? I was a respected employee for the same chapter you speak of, and you think I’ll be the one to disappear considering I made quite a bit of money for them? Think about that for a moment.”
Okay, so there was more to that conversation than those quotes, but you get the idea. I wasn’t about to be the victim. Mind you, I hadn’t been an employee for these people in years, but don’t doubt for a minute I couldn’t have gone back to them for help if I needed it. You don’t mess with me on MY turf and walk away without a scratch when you threaten me in that way. I don’t need violence, either. I start calling wives first.
But, forget about all of that. I know the streets as well as the law and my rights by the constitution of my state and nation. Nobody will make a victim of me. Nobody.
I, and I alone, got rid of these two high, halfway crazy, and obsessed men. Sure, I looked over my shoulder for a couple of years before I realized I had truly won. Needless to say, these two men are two very big reasons to stay under the radar and NOT start a blog. I’m here to tell you today, that I have taken my precautions and I am not afraid.
But, let’s get back on topic, shall we? And, why am I here telling you all of this? Today’s moral to the story is, you shouldn’t take for granted your every day situations. You’re one psycho away from having your body dumped in the wilderness if you’re not careful or savvy. You shouldn’t even give away your birth date as freely as I know you do. How do I know that? A bounty hunter told me that once. He and his partner taught me the birthdate lesson the hard way. Stay tuned for that story. It’s an eye opener and something to think about. It’s coming up next.