It's been a long time since I've had a problem with a particular street person. The last time, the guy was actually a client -- not of mine, but of the office where I worked as a law student. That guy got seriously scary, to the point where a secretary and I had to go make a police report.

This guy could be totally harmless, of course, but I think I'm going to walk Doc in a different direction from now on. I tend to trust my bad vibes, and in this case it's gone beyond a "vibe." Since this guy hangs out on my block during the day, he's going to be hard to avoid.

Has this happened to you? What was your response?

Are there homeless people where you live? Do you talk to them? Have you ever had a problem with one?

I say hello to just about everyone. I'm sure I'll continue to do so. But I'm going to avoid Creepy Guy.

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

Answers

I lived alone in a third-floor apartment for a while directly over a creepy guy's second floor apartment. I had to pass his door to get upstairs to mine. At first, he would just share the occasional "hello" and I didn't pick up any bad vibes. Then he started calling me by my first name, which I had not shared with him. He said he heard my boyfriend call me by name. Since he could probably hear me coming up the metal stairs from the first floor, he would "conveniently" be leaving his apartment almost any time I came by. He started to really make me nervous, so I started climbing the other stairwell and taking a third-floor catwalk balcony to get over to my door. Around the same time, a stray cat starting hanging out in the parking lot. Being a sucker for skinny little cats, I started feeding her outside my door. He apparently heard me calling the cat one night or saw the food bowls, because he took it upon himself to trap the cat in his apartment. Then he started knocking on my door repeatedly, asking for advice on how to take care of it. Understand that he said all this through my closed, locked door. There was no way I was going to open the door for him. He walked around the catwalk to my bedroom window, saying "Lisa, Lisa, I know you're in there. I can see your lights on." I never slept in my bedroom again. I started sleeping in the den on my couch, where all the windows faced the other side of the building and there were no catwalks. Then, he left a really weird note on my door, saying that he was afraid that he had scared me. The note said his sister (who previously lived with him) would know how to take care of the cat, but that she was gone for the summer, and would I please come by his apartment and help him. There was something about the tone and phrasing of the note that really freaked me out. I never responded. A few days later, he let the cat go and another neighbor adopted it. I managed to avoid him for the next few weeks, knowing that I was moving out soon. One of my last days there, I was headed downstairs and he opened his door to leave. Behind him, there was a large white freezer in the den of his apartment. This was right around the time of the Jeffrey Dahmer thing, so that probably freaked me out more than it should have. I moved out and thankfully that was the end of it. Trust your instincts. If you get a weird vibe, listen to it.

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

Ew... Creepy Guy sounds really scary.

I had one guy come into Bob Evans (where I worked) about 2 years ago. He came in and gave me this really weird, goofy smile. Being the hostess, I had to be all friendly and say, "Hi, welcome to Bob Evans, would you like smoking or non?" He said, "Any place that's close to you, dollface."

I sat him at the very back of the restaurant.

Well, I had to walk back there a few times to seat other people, and he would stop what he was doing, put his chin in his hand, and stare with the same stupid grin on his face. I tried to be nice by smiling at him a few times, but I was really starting to get freaked out. I knew he was going to come up to pay his bill soon, so I went to get the manager to do it for me.

Too late. He was already standing at the cash register before I could get her. I looked down the whole time while asking him if everything was okay, taking his money, and handing him his change. When I shut the cash register, he took my hand in his and kissed it. I just looked at him.

He said, "You're the perdiest thing I ever did see around these parts, honey."

"You haven't been here very long, have you?" I shot back.

He laughed and kissed my hand again. He told me he was from Kentucky and he was up in Indiana working at some seminar. "I've got a hotel room at the Woodridge Inn," he said. "Why don't you come back with me?"

"Wellll...." I kept trying to think of a good excuse. "Uh... I don't have a car... and I won't be getting off work until 10:00 or something like that... so..."

"Well, that's okay," he told me. "I'll just come pick you up."

"Ummm... well... my dad's coming to pick me up... and I don't have any way of getting ahold of him..."

"Oh, I'm sure your daddy wouldn't care if you came back and entertained me for a little while, would he?"

I wanted to crawl under the hostess station and die. He was so disgusting. "Entertain him?" He had to be kidding. No way was I going anywhere with this weirdo, least of all to a hotel room.

"I'm only seventeen," I said.

He laughed again. "Well, that's okay. I'm 27. A ten-year age difference isn't all that much, is it?"

"I have a boyfriend."

"But would he treat you as well as I do?" he smiled. "You're so cute. I just wanna take you home with me and eat you up."

I'll bet you do.

"Tell you what," he said. "I'll just write down my room number and give it to you. You call me when you get home and make sure it's okay with your parents, and then we can have some fun tonight."

And here today, folks, is the written proof that Kevin wanted my jailbait body...



A few months later, I was again working at night. The restaurant was completely dead. I saw a man walking across the parking lot through the window. He looked up and waved at me. It was him! The scary guy!

He hurried through the door and ran toward me. He hugged me and said, "I've missed you so much!"

"Did you have another seminar?" was all I could say.

"No, I drove all the way from Louisville to ask you if you'd come home with me. I want to be with you forever."

"I haven't graduated high school." That was the only thing I could think of! I was seventeen, okay?!?

"You can go down there. Oh, please... I don't even know your name but I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Just then, my manager walked out. She's a pretty intimidating lady, and she asked him in her gravelly voice, "Are you going to eat or not? If you're not eating, I'll have to ask you to leave."

He left. I never saw him again. Thank God.

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

My best friend and I were living in Sacramento, not far from the Pine Cove and it's a pretty cheesy neighborhood. She had some odd neighbors.

There were the Sick and Wrong brothers. These guys were born again christian drunks who thought that 3AM was a good time to sing these hideous Country Western Gospel songs from hell. These guys were at least 6 feet tall and weighed at least 300lbs apieces, so we were too terrified to go downstairs and tell them to shut the fuck up. We did get even once. Sue had a wonderful amplifier to go with her keyboard and we hooked it up to the CD player and cranked Madame Butterfly one morning for a few hours with the amplifier on the floor face down over their apartment. We have no idea if they woke from their stupor to hear it, but it felt really good!

There was Helmet Head, named because he always wore a helmet on his head, which he told Sue he wore because he'd fallen on his head 47 times one day and decided he needed the protection. Of course, a few things immediately came to mind. What precisely would have a person fall on their head 47 times? How, after 47 times, would a person actually be able to count that high, much less have the ability to recognize that perhaps they should wear protective head gear? Ultimately, I had to call the cops on Helmet Head because he broke into my truck and stole all my tools, camping gear, and stuff and I caught him in a lie about it. It worked out, because the man was mentally ill and had a bunch of junkies living with/off him because no one was taking care of him the way they were supposed to, but after that, he got help, including his own bright red new bike. His wife (who obviously lived elsewhere) came by and couldn't apologize enough. Sue got her long-stolen bike back and no one stole anything from us any more, or screwed with us at all.

Where we live now, most everyone is fairly normal. There's the overly educated unemployed woman who doesn't seem to have the basic social skills god gave a peanut, but she's harmless.

Where we used to live just before this, we'd have bums hitting us for money in the parking lot, until we told them that it was partially subsidized housing. I offered them peanutbutter sandwiches, but they never took me up on it. But after that, they were polite and respectful, just really grungy.

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

Oh heavens. Be careful, Beth.. creepy guys are called that for so many reasons.. trust your gut feelings!

I used to work at Denny's, aka the scum capital of Pennsylvania resturaunts. Over the summer, I worked late-night (usually 10pm - 6am) because I could make $40, maybe, in the evenings and I usually made $80 or so each night I worked late-night. Creepy guys think to themselves at three in the morning "hmmm.. nowhere to go but Denny's!"

I did have some ways of getting them to leave me alone.. my boyfriend worried about me working there w/ drunk people and the like so he usually dropped me off and picked me up from work (what a sweetie!).. and I hadn't turned 18 yet. A guy sitting at the counter once told me that I was beautiful. I turned to him and said "you should tell that to my boyfriend when he comes to pick me up." and he got all offended. I told him that I was 17 and really illegal for him, and he said that he had only turned 18 a few weeks earlier.. but he told a 24-year-old waitress that he was 22 when she thought he was too young for her.

I once asked a pair of gentlemen if they'd be having dessert one evening.. and I was told that since my name wasn't on the menu that they'd pass. My manager didn't do anything... *grrr*

I was alone, no manager (just a cook, a dishwasher, another server and me) one night around 5am. I was waiting on a really nice group of kids a little older than me and I started making some friendly conversation with them.. and the one kid turned to me and said "I got wood." Over and over again. I said to him "look, stop. I can have you kicked out. You really need to shut up *now*"

A billion stories came from working there.. guys who tried to pick me up and guys who admired me.. guys who seemed just friendly and flirtatious but one was never sure.

I can't say too much, though, because my current boyfriend of a year picked me up at Denny's. *grin*

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

A few months after I began working at my current job a new hire came in and I had to greet him. He was tall and muscular and quite handsome. We chatted briefly but left it at that. Soon after he was hired as a Research Chemist (uhhh bit of a tip off there, Mad Scientist) he began coming to my desk more and more just "chatting". I didn't see any harm in it because a lot of the people were friendly like that and I was told that since I was an attractive young woman I should expect it. He was soon telling me constantly how beautiful I was and how much he wanted to take me out. I was flattered at this point and finally agreed. We went out and had dinner and he was all over me. Even though he was attractive I was completely turned off by this and couldn't wait for the night to end. After that it was non stop. Phone calls 24/7 "I want you, I need you, give me a chance, I can't stop thinking about you, you're so sexxxy" etc etc. He'd call me at work just to go on and on about how sexy my skirt was or how wonderful my hair looked and once how wonderful I smelled when he passed me in the hall. I asked him to please leave me alone, I wasn't interested and I even apologized if I had mistakenly lead him on. He assure I didn't but persisted anyhow. One day I found a message on my machine from him in the strangest voice "I can't stand not seeing you....why can't you be in my life, I love you....it's me, "mad scientist" ....it's *exact hour:minute:second* on *day* the weather is *whatever* won't you please come be with me" I had enough. I talked to my boss and he must now stay away from me and use opposite entrances/exits as I do. They talked of dismissing him but I assured them as long as he kept his distance that things would be fine. It was a really creepy situation because we had only gone out once and I hadn't given him any reason to think I was even remotely interested in him otherwise. The way he spoke to me and the way he'd glare at me made me want to crawl out of my skin. I still see him unfortunately, from across the hall or the Cafeteria and he grins at me, I shiver and walk as fast I can to somewhere crowded.

I've had other creepy guy experiences but I'm sure you wouldn't wanna hear them all....I'm a freak magnet!

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

Notice no men have written on this topic? Are all women creepy guy magnets, or just the young/vulnerable ones?

I have so many creepy guy stories I don't know which one to share. Restaurant work is a treature trove of stories about creepy customers... At the pizza place I used to work at in Franklin, Indiana, we had several regulars that creeped us all out a bit. One we dubbed "Mr. Crweepy" because he would come into the restaurant (alone), sit at a table and just stare at you when you tried to take his order. He always ordered in monosyllables, but he prefered we just bring him his "usual" once we had it memorized. If there were any questions, ("We're out of iced tea today...what would you like instead?") he would just glare at you and not answer. Boy, did we hate him. Later, one veteran waitress got him to talk to her and then he'd stay well past closing talking to us.

We also had "Cat Beater", who was out on bail after serving 7 years for killing someone while driving drunk. Our restaurant was the one eating establishment within walking distance of his apartment, so he came ini 4+ times a week. He tipped well, and seemed rehabilitated enough, so we'd often sit and talk to him when it was slow (hey, he had good prison stories, including one about Mike Tyson who served time with him). After a few months, he began bringing in stuffed animals he bought at the drugstore or grocery store down the street. After each of us collected 2-6 stuffed rabbits, bears etc, our owner finally asked him nicely to stop. I only kept one rabbit, Mr. Carrot Feet, as a memento of this time.

I left a few years ago, but my friends told me he started giving bigger and more inappropriate gifts (like lingerie). I think he started drinking again, because she said he was more aggressive, depressed, and demanding (he had been a pretty sweet guy). She quit soon after, and luckily, this guy can't drive around and find her until the year 2007 or something like that.

Out in the Bay I'm a creep magnet as well. I once sat on a BART train when a creeepy guy sat next to me. I tried to play cool, and I looked into the window until I caught the reflection: he was masturbating through his shorts (you don't want the details)! I got up and stood by the door, and I could feel/see him watching me even after I got off the train and went up the escalator! Uuugrggh.

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

I'm the worst freak magnet.

First, there was this man named "Prince." No, not the singer, the man that fell for me when I was 8. He must have been in his middle to late 30's and he would always tell me how cute I was. He told me his name was Prince and he always had a dog with him which he called Princess (thinking about that as an adult, it scares me as to why he called himself Prince and his dog Princess!!!) One day I was in the candy store and he came in after me. He tried to talk to me and then before leaving, he kissed me on the mouth and walked out! No tongue, but still - it was gross and I was terrified. The freaking clerk at the candy store didn't even say anything. I moved out the neighborhood soon after and when I was 15 and working as a cashier at a local store, guess who came in with his wife? Prince!! He didn't recognize me, thank God.

When I was 16, this creepy guy moved into an apartment on my floor. He'd try to hit on me and my sister and her friend. He would walk around the hall in his underwear. We could see in his window through the window in the hall and saw that he nailed his underwear to a board on the wall! When he saw us looking in, he boarded up his window. So, we terrorized him. We crazy-glued his lock (and giggled as we watched him wait for a locksmith to open his door) and put garbage by his door. We called him names and threatened to have him arrested. Finally, he moved out and we heard that he left a lot of weird shit in his apartment (I don't remember what it was).

Then was also the old man on the second floor that trapped me into a corner in the elevator and tried to kiss me when I was 10 years old. My sister and I told his wife. 2 weeks later, he hung himself in the basement.

Oh, then there was this guy that would jerk off by his window every time I'd walk my dog. My friend and I knocked on his door to tell him to stop and his WIFE answered the door! We told her what he had done and he never did it again! A year later, his daughter used to wait for my brother to walk the dog and hang out the window and wisper "psst" to him. When he asked her what she wanted, she didn't say a word. Very creepy people.

And then there were the many guys who jerked off while looking at me on the train. One of them even followed me off the train and I had to have the token booth clerk escort me downstairs. There were other men who would press against me on the train as well (one of them was even reading a bible while he did that).

I think it's official....I am the biggest freak magnent!!

-- Anonymous, September 21, 1999

I'll tell you why no man has posted. Every one of them with an ounce of empathy has spent at least some time wondering if they're one of the people you're talking about here. It's a difficult and condfusing line between taking risks and being a stalker. I think that often the deciding factor is whether their feelings are reciprocated. Imagine an attractive guy with a winning personality throwing pebbles at your window, then imagine same pebbles, same window, but the guy drools and is not so attractive. Which is not to in any way imply that these stories here are anywhere near that line... but guys can be pretty self-conscious about these things. Though I'm probably exaggerating a little bit.

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

First of all, be very careful about Creepy Guy. Trust your instincts and the vibes you feel. I used to carry a stun gun when I walked my dog by myself.

Yes, I too am a freak magnet. The current Creepy Guy works in maintenance in our building. He is tall, skinny, and has buzz cut red hair. One time I was alone in the office, and he came in with some excuse to talk to me, and he kept looking down at my chest (which isn't even big). I got rid of him, but he really creeped me out.

My co-worker, who is really pretty, also has had a couple of run-ins with him, so whenever we see him in the lobby or hall we try to avoid him. He just looks at us really weird. We started thinking that since he is in maintenance, he knows all the layout of the building, and probably has peep holes drilled in the bathrooms and cameras in the basement or something like that. EW.

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

Reading these posts (not to mention the paper), it's amazing to me that some guys can resent being politely told to step off. I seem to be a creepyguy magnet as well. Everything from elderly men to people I have known for sometime who manifest a total incomprehension to the words "not interested". I think what makes it creepy, to respond to Vic, is also the response of the guy after you have made it CLEAR that you are not interested. If he throws a pebble to my window (assuming he knows by legitamate means where my window is), that can be fine. If I have already explained that I'm really not interested in hanging out, then throwing pebbles or leaving notes or calling at odd hours becomes creepy.

While visiting my Grandmother in texas, me and my dad went to a bookstore cafe. while we were sitting and reading, I looked around the room to watch the folks in the cafe (this was the only place in the Ft.Worth area to see people with fun hair). My gaze crossed another guy's gaze a few times, but I thought nothing of it, that's what happens when you look around, right? Anyway, then my dad and I drove down teh street to our hotel. The next morning there was a note undeerneath the windshield wiper from a guy who said that he'd seen me in the cafe and wanted to get together and left his #. kinda flattering, but then I pictured him following after me (and my DAD) as we left the cafe, following us by car. watching us park and walk to our hotel room. or he'd have had to watch us get into our car, make a note of our car type, then follow us to the hotel and at some point find our car to leave the note. I'm sorry, there was nothing wrong with this guy to look at, but that strikes me as a little too desparate. Especially if I'm staying in a hotel and probably leaving soon. what does he think, I'm going to stop by for a quickie on my way to the airport? or maybe we'll have a ten-minute conversation after which I'll pledge a longdistance relationship? creepy.

I think some guys have such low self-esteem or are so self-obsessed that they can't understand how their actions come off. or they feel so ineffectual that they don't believe they can be threatening. But that's exactly what's dangerous, someone who doesn't understand somoeone's right to be left alone. It's not hard to firgure out, read these stories above, or the newspapers. people (esp. women) have every reason to fear attention from strangers. If someone is so self-obsessed that they can't respect your wish to be left alone, then they can ultimately be dangerous.

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

Hey Beth, If this guy has a developmental disability, maybe he has some professional people that are supposed to be working with him on his social skills (I only have female clients, otherwise I'd be wondering whether I work with him...hehe)

I know you're trying not to engage in conversations with him anymore, but if you get brave, maybe you could try asking him who his ALTA worker is...and if you find out, I can give the alta worker a call if you get his name too, and maybe they can write into his plan about stop stalking women and oggling their booties.

Might work! heh

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

In response to Vic...

There is nothing wrong with taking risks, but most men can see the telltale signs of "nothing doing" (her body language and her saying, "no") and leave you alone if you've turned them down. The creepy weirdo guys are the ones that don't respect the "no" you utter and that fundamental lack of respect is what is most terrifying. Some are mentally ill and just don't function within social norms, and some are just people who probably didn't have their "no's" respected, and thus, do not have enough experience to respect "no's" themselves.

I have had some weird neighbors, but the scariest thing for me...I had some guy who saw me on the BART in San Francisco, followed me for a couple of blocks from there and then caught up with me and asked me to have a drink with him. For three blocks, I told him I wasn't interested and was going home to my boyfriend.

It should have taken 3 steps.

The other issue I think is that we women often try to be polite/nice about turning a man down, because we've been taught to be socially graceful. Example,"I'd love to, but I've got a boyfriend that would object." (accompanied by the appropriate body language: a weak smile and her backing away from you)This is a clear no, that a good many men have ignored as you can see by the posts. It seems like some guys think we're going to say, "Fuck no! Not even if you were the last man on earth!" I wouldn't be caught dead saying that to a fellow human who was (likely)physically bigger and stronger than me. That's just stupid.

With any question(Will you go out with me?) expect a yes or no answer...If a man can respect both possible outcomes, then I doubt he'll ever get dubbed "Creepy Guy."

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

Libraries are great for attracting creepy guys. When I worked at a large university library near the center of town, we had not one, but two guys with foot fetishes. One stole the shoe of a female student who had slipped them off while studying. It was later found in the stairwell! I, personally, would have found it difficult to put it back on! The other guy...(we know there were 2 guys because they were different races)....tried every ploy he could think of to get me to slip my shoe off while I was working at the card catalog. "oh, what brand of shoe is that?" etc. Something in his manner made me feel very prickly all over. Then, well known around all the libraries in this area is a guy we call "Zorro"...He dresses all in black with a black wide-brimmed hat. You know when he is near and where he has been because he has really bad B.O. He seems harmless enough although he is fond of doing odd things like xeroxing his face. I'm sure public librarians from inner cities would have far more tales to tell than I.

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

Oh, man, libraries are just awful. I was a night and weekend manager at a library at UCLA, and we had stalkers, "peepers," flashers, you name it. It never occurred to me that waitresses would have similar problems, but I guess it makes sense.

Most of my creepy guy experiences have been with classmates or other acquaintances. And as someone said, it's the guy who won't take a subtle no (or eventually a more direct no) who turns into a creepy guy. Some women get angry at women who aren't upfront and direct and then complain about being stalked, but I look at it this way: I have total sympathy for the position that guys (especially insecure or shy guys) are in when they ask women out, or just approach a woman they find interesting. Rejection sucks. I'm not going to respond to every guy who's interested in me by saying, "No way, you jerk. How dare you speak to me?" My natural response is to be as nice as possible.

On the other hand, there is a happy medium. "I'd love to, but my boyfriend would kill me" isn't a good answer -- to someone with the inclination to turn into an obsessive creepy guy, it says that YOU are interested, except you've got this stupid boyfriend holding you back. And too much hemming and hawing seems to encourage creepy guys.

Creepy guys are pretty easily separated from the guys whose feelings you don't want to hurt, though. Example:

Polite Girl: La di da, I'm doing my shopping, shop, shop, shop. I wonder if those avocados are ripe?

Strange Guy: Hello, Polite Girl. I couldn't help but notice you admiring those avocados. I'm an avocado fan myself. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?

Polite Girl: Actually, I was just on my way home to make guacamole for my loving husband and three adorable children. But you have a nice day.

At this point, if Strange Guy is a nice person, he's thinking this: Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Avocado fan?" What kind of idiot am I? I'm going to die alone, I just know it. He will simply smile weakly and wave goodbye to Polite Girl.

A creepy guy, on the other hand, will say something like, "Oh, come on, just one cup of coffee. Your husband can't object to that, can he?"

And that's the point where Polite Girl should probably run him over with her shopping cart and beat him to death with a jar of mayonnaise. But we never do. We keep blathering and run to our cars and then have a new creepy guy to avoid at the supermarket.

The police tend to frown on that whole "beating people to death" thing, anyway.

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

Oops. I think I meant to say there is NO happy medium. If a guy is inclined to be a creepy guy, I don't think it matters much what you say to him.

I love that Far Side cartoon where the woman in the bar is saying to the guy, "No! Forget it! Not if you were the last man on earth! Get lost, creep!" And the man is thinking, "God, I love aloof women."

-- Anonymous, September 22, 1999

Yes, there are homeless people and "creepy" people (many of whom I am sure have homes) all over SF. No, I don't talk to them or try to be nice to them - I try to be aware of who's around me at all times, but not make them aware that I'm not really ignoring them.

I've been flashed at on occasion, verbally absued, and followed down the street once in a while, but I'd say that's really a very rare occurrence considering how long I've lived here and how much time I spend on the streets and the buses.

I just appear to ignore anyone who looks creepy or is acting crazy, and I try to look like I'm not going to take any nonsense from anyone in public, and if some creep gets in my face, I make him or her regret it, verbally.

I've actually had more problems with creeps (both male and female) in cyberspace than in meatspace - especially with people who are apparently intelligent but are also seriously disturbed and vicious in some ways and tend to want to hurt people who've done them no harm.

Fortunately it's much easier to just ignore creeps in c-space, to just not give them the attention they want for their bad behavior, but sometimes they do make it so one really needs to take some action.

Anyone else have more trouble with creeps in c-space than creeps in person?

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Well, I can contribute a story, and I'm a guy, but it's about Barb.

When we first got married, Barb was home alone one day in the apartment, having the day off. A maintenance man knocked on the door that she had thought was a little--strange--and the first thing he said was,

"Could'ja give me some sugar?"

Now, in the Deep South, at least, and Barb's from Mississippi, "giving sugar" is a euphemism for kissing, and sometimes more than kissing. She cussed him out and slammed the door on him.

Later the manager called and explained that the guy was really, really harmless. The reason he seemed "strange" is that he WAS mildly retarded. And he had run out of sugar for something he was fixing himself, and was LITERALLY asking for sugar.

Barb could have died.

OTOH, I had a friend who was a DJ but was a little, I dunno, odd, before I got married. He broke up with his girlfriend just before I got married. Afterwards, after we got back from the honeymoon, he kept on showing up. And showing up. And showing up.

Now, newlyweds want their privacy. At first it was okay, but he was rapidly getting to be a pain.

One day we came back from the mall, and he was WAITING IN THE PARKING LOT for us. Barb said curtly, "You take care of it" and walked pointedly past his car.

I opened the car door and told him in no uncertain terms to stop pestering us, to go away.

I've seen him only once since then, and didn't recognize him, although he knew ME, since I look pretty much the same as I used to. I didn't exasctly want to pursue the friendship.

I'm still not sure what he wanted. Barb was (and is) beautiful, but I'm not sure if he was after her---although I sure wasn't going to give him a chance to find out. I think, really, he was more looking for a "secret" of a happy relationshp. Barb and I were so obviously nuts for each other, and he had just been brushed off by his girl---I think he wanted to see if there was something he could emulate.--Al

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

I'm not a creepy guy magnet at all but I'll never forget one incident that happened long ago. I think the fact that I was young and not at all worldly that I even got in this situation. During a summer school session a college most of my friends had gone home and I was lonely. I deciced that I spent too much time by myself and decided to meet more people at the student union. A very wierd guy asked me if I would like to go to the nearest town for ice cream and normally I would have said no. This time I thought I might be making the wrong judgement about this wierd guy and decided to go. Needless to say my first impression was right and I was very lucky to get back to school that night and I was very frightened. Not every young woman is as lucky as I was after making a bad judgement.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Whoops, my polite refusal example did suck...

I usually say close to what you did about having a hubby and child waiting for me. The last time I had to do that, though, the guy was drunk and said,"Hey, I've got the wife and kids at home, too. Come on, honey!" (I don't understand the logic there...we're both in monogamous long-term relationships, so let's screw? yeesh!) I politely explained that I had the designated driver assignment for the evening and turned my back to him. (Here, you drunken twit, have some body language!)

Other than the one drunken guy, I haven't had to deal with creepy guys much lately. There is a vast shortage of creepy guys at McDonald's playland, Costco and the apartment pool. (Mind you, I'm not complaining.) I did have Creepy Junky Woman approach me. She followed me off the sidewalk into a parking lot when I was going to lunch and stood mumbling by my car as I got out of it -- scared the crap out of me. I looked at her square in the eye, told her very directly,"Please leave me alone." And then walked to the restaurant. I was scared shitless, but she backed off. Then I was feeling guilty because she'd looked so pitifully thin. I'd feed anyone, but it was pretty clear she wasn't hungry for food.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

when i was younger i dated a musician, and the town we lived in, being small, didn't really have a lot of quality venues for his band - so of course he ended up playing at total dives filled with old men drinking themselves silly. well. the old men liked me. a lot. this all happened between my being 17-20 or so . until i was 19,(it was in canada - lower drinking age) i'd just say i'm with the band and they'd let me sit there as long as i didn't drink. but of course - i did. especially when the old slavic men sitting at the next table would start buying my friend and i shots. and like we were going to say no! young and stupid of course. then they just latched onto us and would not leave us alone all night; whenever we danced they would insist on joining us, and try and actually dance with us. that is - they'd try and make physical contact of some sort *shudder*.

nowadays, there is this vegan restaurant that i go to. the guy who owns it is like... 61. he's always been really nice and friendly, we talk when there's no one else eating there. very casual, easy going chatting. i bring friends in from all over the country and from canada and he's always so nice and we all talk and it's pleasant. no problem.

until last weekend. i went there by myself (which i've done many times) and at first all was cool. he's a musician and occasionally plays live music in the resaurant with a band, and i was like well you should let me know when and so he's like ok give me your number and i'll let you know when things are goin' on and you can bring people in. all fine and good.

then it got icky. he started going on and on about how beautiful i was and i was trying to just continue the normal conversation and he wouldn't stop being all frisky and overly-friendly. THEN it turned out his son was in town - and who should happen to stop by like 5 mins later... and his son - oh GOD what an ASSHOLE. the guy just sat himself down at my table, didn't even ask, and started saying that he wanted to give me his phone number and how he wanted to "take me home and..." then he tried to convey the meaning with his eyes. inside i was just freaking out but on the outside i played stupid and was like "and what?" so he eventually looked at the floor and was like "nothing, never mind, you probably wouldn't call anyway" and i wanted to be rude and say something like you're damn right, but this is one of two organic foods restaurants that i can eat at in the whole city, so i thought i should be polite and just never go in there by myself again.

i didn't think daddy-o would actually call. but he did. he wants me to go and see music somewhere with him. which, considering there's some cool jazz and blues out here, sure yeah i'd bring a few friends and meet up somewhere cool. but it turns out that's not what he's thinking. he wanted me to come to his restaurant and he wanted to make me dinner. i made excuses and put him off but now i'm not quite sure how to handle this. he WILL call again ... i can just say i'll meet him there i suppose and bring friends (as in MALE friends) and that should get the point across and i'll still be able to eat there...

man. this sucks. i really liked the food and he was such a nice person and now he's a CREEPY GUY!

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

I've read most of the answers here and have had my share of creepy guy experiences, but I tell you, what scares me more is the way we as woman are not asking each other, "Why are you making an EXCUSE?" Why are you even SAYING anything like, "I have a husband and children at home." ?? Under NO circumstances and in NO FUCKING WAY do any of you owe a Creepy Guy ANY excuse. "NO" is a complete sentence AND a complete answer.

Look -- I will never write about this in my journal because my kids don't know and my parents don't know. At 24, I was raped by a Creepy Guy who had decided that he had fallen in love with me and wanted to "take me away" with him -- he came to my house with the explanation that he was moving to another state and he wanted to go with me to get my son from day care so I could go with him. He had had NO reason from me to expect any sort of anything with him... EXCEPT that every time he hit on me (at the gym), I was POLITE back to him. I tried to be subtle, I tried smiling while explaining that I had a husband and small son, I tried avoiding him (going at times when he didn't work there) and then I quit the membership. He kept telling me how beautiful I was and stuff like that and I hated to be RUDE to someone who was just going too far. I made excuses for him -- he just doesn't realize he's going overboard, he just doesn't mean any harm, after all, they're just compliments... I mean, what's so bad about that, my friends (women) would say. I felt like an idiot because a lot of them thought I ought to appreciate it that I was thought that attractive. So I swallowed my instincts and didn't really tell anyone else about it. I was 24 and had been taught all my life to be charming and polite and even though I was opinionated / strong, to downplay that because it somehow wasn't socially acceptable.

He came to the house, wanting me to leave with him. I wouldn't open the front door while he said this whole spiel. I just kept saying "I don't understand why you're saying this," (which made him keep trying to explain) and "I don't know what gave you that impression" (which gave him the opening to tell me what I'd done [in his perception] to indicate that I loved him, but was just in "denial"... yeah, right.] When it became clear I wasn't going to leave with him, he showed me a letter of resignation -- an envelope he needed to mail to his current boss because he was leaving the state that day becasue he couldn't bear to stay there without me.

He asked for a stamp. He knew I had them -- knew I was a writer -- and I felt it would have been impolite to refuse. How stupid, I know. But I turned away and went to my office. I thought for a split second that I should turn the deadbolt lock to keep him out, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Can you believe that? I didn't want to be impolite.

He got in the door, trapped me in the office and violently raped me.

Now I could describe all of this and scare the shit out of you, but you all have active enough imaginations. Violent.

You DO NOT owe anyone an excuse if they do ANYTHING unwanted toward you. Any of you. You just fucking do not owe an excuse. You can be human when you respond, but you say, "No." If you feel like you have to say more, then add something crystal clear: "I don't want your company." "No. I will never be interested in you. Go away." "NO. I will never in any century have anything to do with you." "Leave me alone." "NO." If you're at work and they persist, you say, "I'm not interested, I don't know why you're persisting, but perhaps we should talk with our mutual supervisor about this unwanted attention." If it happens in front of a group and someone razzes you for being "rude" or "impolite" or "a bitch" you say, "Yup. My goal was to repel idiots... I'm glad it's working." or "Works for me. He's an asshole." Or if you can't bring yourself to be ballsy, you say, "He's the rude one, not having a clue when to take 'no' for an answer." I'm 37 and am still thought to be 25 - 28. I still get hit on a lot. But now, I am so incredibly strong (meaning confident) in the way I answer, no one messes with me and no one mistakes what I mean... nor do they generally think I'm being anything but right.

As for the mentally challenged, I honestly believe, Beth, that you need to call some authorities and report him. If he's constatntly hanging out around your neighborhood and he's focusing more andmore on your specific block, then there's potential harm. And... it's very possible that someone is looking for him. One call to the police to at least have them check on him and see if he has any priors or outstanding warrants only costs you a phone call and them a few minutes. That's what they're there for.

I'm stopping. I hope I haven't offended anyone, but I'm so much stronger now, today, I'm so much more a different person. And so many women are raped by people they KNOW or have met recently. Think about that. Be strong. Be assertive. It's YOUR BODY and your life and you don't owe an excuse to anyone.

Toni (climbing off soapbox)

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Toni, you make some really good points, and I'm glad you shared your story. I think a lot of us probably have similar stories (I do).

One thing I just want to stress, though, is that if you are attacked (or hassled or scared or threatened), sometimes it has nothing to do with how polite or forceful you were. Even if someone did decide you were an easy target because you were polite, and even if someone misread your clear (to a reasonable person) indications that you weren't interested, it's still not your fault. Maybe you could have nipped the problem sooner had you been more forceful, but that's different than saying it's your fault.

The line that sticks with me is one a friend of mine uttered when being told by a social worker at a victims' counseling group that she needed to work on "setting her boundaries." Through gritted teeth, my friend asked, "At what point when he was bashing my head against the steering wheel and sodomizing me was I supposed to say, 'Sir, you're exceeding my boundaries'? Are you telling me that he thought that was an okay thing to do because I failed to make myself clear?"

I do understand -- believe me -- the dilemma that women get into. Your first impulse, before you know someone is a creepy guy, is to be polite. You want the world to work that way, and most people are nice and deserving of politeness in return. By the time creepy guy reveals himself, you feel like it's too late to change the rules and suddenly be a hard ass.

The happy medium, I guess, is realizing that it's NOT too late once someone turns into an asshole, and exercising a little caution from the get-go while still being friendly and polite.

By the way, Stasi, I forgot to thank you for the suggestion about Creepy Guy's caseworker. Jeremy is going to find out his name, and then we'll get back to you. Thanks.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Oh, and in answer to Judy: nope, definitely more creeps in real time than I've ever met online. I'm a bitch online; in real life I'm obsessively polite and nice and all that crap. In other words, a freak magnet.

I encountered most of my weirdos in college and law school. I chalk that up to immature college boys and the tendency for freaks to congregate where the young women are. Law school had more than its share of creepy guys, too.

I don't encounter as many creepy guys on the street as I used to. Once I stopped riding the bus, a lot of my problems evaporated. I've been flashed a couple of times downtown, but most of the homeless men downtown are "regulars," meaning you see them a lot, they probably know you, they sometimes ask for food or money, and they tell you to have a nice day. I consider them part of the neighborhood and never have any problems with them.

I did, however, get chased out of the Safeway parking lot a few years ago by a crazy prostitute who told me to get off her corner. (Actually, the line was "don't wear those fucking boots on my corner, bitch, or I'll cut your throat." Charming lady.)

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

I have lived in Boston for quite a while, and used to work until midnight, so I've encountered more than my share of Creepy Homeless Guys. They never scared me as much as the Creepy Guys who weren't homeless though -- when I was about 18, I worked in a hospital coffee shop, in a small town in Vermont. The manager there was a jerk -- harmless, but a jerk all the same -- and only hired young women to work the afternoon and evening shifts. There were usually two of us, alone, until 9 pm or so. We had guys who would hit on us, but no big deal, until one particular guy started coming in regularly. His wife was a patient every few months -- we learned from a nurse later that her husband was beating her severely enough to require frequent hospital stays. He would come into the coffee shop alone, and started off with generic pickup lines "You have really pretty eyes," "you have a sexy smile," etc. We brushed him off -- politely at first, yes, because we were young and a bit scared. Then he started getting aggressive, and would wait until one of us was alone in the dining area, wiping tables or whatever, and would come up behind us and stand REALLY close, and make comments about how he knew where we parked our cars, and he knew which door we left by, and it was pretty quiet and dark back there, and maybe we would let him walk us to our cars, or go for a drink with him -- we would tell him to fuck off, basically, but he would just laugh. We told our boss, and he said "Oh, he just thinks you're cute." The boss actually had to work an evening shift with me one night, and the Creepy Guy came in and started talking to my boss about how cute I was, and how he wanted to take me home and...my boss turned into a huge wuss and just sort of laughed it off. Afetr the Creepy Guy left he said that we should start having security walk us to our cars, which we did. Eventually the guy's wife would always go home with him, and we'd be in the clear for a month or two. The wife apparently fiercely defended her husband. Sick.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

(I posted something, but it never showed up, so I'll post again.)

When I lived in San Francisco there was a guy who rode the same bus I did who seemed to be retarded and who would try to talk to me. I was firm with him, I'd say "I don't want to talk to you" and turn away from him. I would see him bothering other women and just hate him.

There are a lot of homeless people there. Most of them were no problem. There was one guy who begged in our neighborhood sometimes who would take off his artificial leg and prop it up next to him. I'd ignore him as I walked by (my SOP for beggars) and sometimes he'd say something under his breath like "fuck you bitch". This pissed me off, but I never did anything about it. I'm not sure what to have done, actually. I didn't really want to get into a dialog with him.

I feel really lucky that I never got that conditioning of "you have to be polite". My mother and grandmother were always telling me about men who exposed themselves to them when they were growing up, stuff like that, and gave advice like "If a man ever tries anything funny with you, you just RUN!" Probably that warped me in other ways, but at least I don't have any trouble telling guys to leave me alone.

We moved to the suburbs this year and homeless people here aren't visible. There's one cranky old drunk guy in the neighborhood who is creepy, but I don't expect any trouble from him unless I run across his lawn.

I haven't had any trouble with creepy guys in c-space. I have been on teh Well, an on line community, for 7 years now and never have had any problems, though I know people who have. I haven't even had any exicting email flirtations.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Okay, joining the fray a little late here, but better late than never...Working in food serivce on and off for several years gave me more experience with creepy guys than I ever wanted. I think that the worst, though, were from McDonald's. Two in particular come to mind...

I was washing windows near the back of the store by the bathrooms when a large, heavily tatooed, 30-ish year old man walked in. Okay, fine, we were off the highway, okay. He walks up to me and watches me work for a moment, then asks if I work there. I said something along the lines of "No, I just wear the uniform because I think that it's cute". He responded with "I'll give you fifty bucks to fuck me in the bathroom". I was like, excuse me?! He ran like a bat out of hell getting out of there.

The other one that was really unnerving was a man who came in every day, always asked how I was and all that. There were a lot of nice older peope who did this. It didn't bother me. Then all of a sudden one day he stopped asking how I was and telling me instead what he wanted to do to me. I'm not going into details, but it was some pretty kinky shit! The really crappy part of that is that even when I told the managers, they didn't do anything about it, and he continued with this behaviour until I quit. I don't think that I ever walked out of work alone because I was afraid of the creepys.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

No very close run-ins. But then again, I've been told by friends that I "walk big." This is an attitude that seem to just adopt sub-consciously when walking about to work/home on public transport, etc.

It may also help that I'm kind of tall and even when I was at a normal weight, didn't look small or vulnerable at all.

Anyway, I've got three stories. One dates back to when I was junior high and was a relatively common occurrence.

Story #1: The Landscape Truck Guys There was a landscaper whose property backed onto the public high school grounds. We lived only a 5 minute walk from that high school and I walked up that road every day to catch the bus while I was in private school and then later in the other direction to go to the high school.

The landscaper had a truck that would get sent out on various jobs throughout the area with a full complement of landscaper/gardener guys.

The used to whistle and cat-call at me as I walked to/from school in the morning of afternoon if they happened to be driving by and one time, one of the guys _hissed_ at me.

That was really freaky, because the rest of the crew was completely silent except for this one guy, leaning over the edge of the truck hissing.

I was very young at the time and hadn't had self-defense yet so it freaked the sh** out of me and I turned tail and ran through some random person's back yard and took a roundabout way home rather than stay on the road. I was afraid that they might stop the truck and grab me since there wasn't really anyone else around and it was getting on towards sunset.

Story #2: Lunch Counter Man I've told this story before here I think, and in my journal for the "Breasts of Doom" collab.

A couple of months ago, when I was looking for a new place to grab lunch around my new office, I hit upon this nifty Greek cafe. Like many other such establishments in the area, the majority of the staff are Latin American and many of them don't speak much English. Since I've taken a lot of Spanish and like to keep in practice, I will often start speaking Spanish to the staff when I go get my lunch. Most of the time, this seems to make the people I talk to happy and it helps me keep my language skills up.

This time my efforts at friendliness had an undesired result: one of the guys at the counter started hitting on me and tellig me all sorts of things about my shape that I just didn't want to hear when I was getting my lunch. On this particular occasion, I was so shocked at being hit on in a public restaurant, that I just smiled pretty and played dumb, pretended to understand half as much as I did and ran for the check-out counter.

I then waited several months before going back there to get lunch again, WITH my fiance in tow.

Story #3 -- Metro Weirdo The latest happened just a few weeks ago. I was waiting at the station for my train, and got tired of standing up so I sat down on the platform. This is not odd -- lots of people do. So I'm sitting there rummaging in my backpack for my Discman, when this guy wearing sunglasses and what looks like somewhat battered trail gear clothing sits down beside me and goes: "Hi. I'm blah blah," and held out his hand.

Somewhat distractedly I shook his hand and went back to looking for my other headphone, hoping that'd be the end of it.

"You look like you could use some help," he says. Irritated now, because I was already having a _really_ bad day I answered with a curt "No thank you. I'm fine."

He sneered and mimicked my "No" back at me.

At that point, I'd already had enough.

I got up and left and went back down into the station. I called work to tell them why I would be running late, waited ten minutes and went back up to the platform.

Unfortunately a train still hadn't come along, but the guy had already moved off to the other end of the platform. Another woman walking down the platform asked me if I'd reported him to the station manager. "No," I said, "I just wanted to get away from him -- and he didn't seem particularly threatening. Just annoying."

"Well, he's crazy," she replied, "and he's bothering anyone who listens to him."

Just then the train came, and he got on it, so I didn't get the chance to report the guy. He sat next to a touristy looking couple and gave them an earful of conspiracy theories all the way to the next stop. Then he got off the train and wandered off to bother someone else.

In these situations, I tend to think in terms of self-preservation. As long as the guy hasn't infringed on my personal space and isn't actively abusive, or offensive, I just try to keep my distance or leave as soon as possible.

If I feel like that person might be a threat to myself or to someone else, then I report it. I reported a weird looking guy to security once when I was at college -- there were a lot of guys in town who were at Halfway Houses and liked to come on campus to ogle us girls at the all women's college. It only made sense to report all suspicious activity, especially since break-ins did happen from time to time.

I took self-defense while I was in college and learned how to defend myself, not only physically, but mentally as well.

No strange guy ever has the right to make me uncomfortable. But it's up to me to choose the strategy for getting rid of him without enciting him to violence.

On the other hand, I don't think I could have put up with half of the stories on this board. The treatment that some of y'all have had to put up with, is in my mind, absolutely inexcusable on the part of the perpetrators. If I'd been in some of the same situtations, I think I might have called the police or gotten another person involved a lot sooner.

It's not always easy to think suspiciously, and being coldly polite can be wearing, but it's also the first line of defense when the chips are down. I firmly believe that there is nothing wrong with telling someone who is bothering me, firmly, but politely to leave me alone.

I don't always have to be a "nice girl." But I do always have to be smart and keep an eye out for myself.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

You know, I don't know about Creepy Guy, except that he sounds dangerous.

But about Doc -- I don't know if this will work or not, especially since he's a puppy. But when I used to walk my Norwegian Elkhound down a nature trail, I occasionally felt uncomfortable. Of course, she was just so happy to be out walking she was a pussy cat (if you'll excuse the expression). And she never was fierce, anyway.

But. I got this idea. I decided to behave as IF she could be dangerous. Every time I saw a person coming toward me, I'd grab her collar and hold it, as if I had to hold it, or she'd break the leash to get to them. I'd tense myself, make my arm and hand look tense, as if I were fighting the silly dog to hold her back.

The oddest thing happened. She started picking up on my (fake) tension, and she started getting tense about people approaching us. And I do think if anybody had been aggressive, she would have at least barked and snarled, whether she actually did anything else or not.

Cool.

Anyway, Doc may be too young for that to work. But I thought I'd mention it.

Pooks

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Heh. Funny you should mention that, because it's one of the things they tell people NOT to do if you're having problems with an aggressive or fearful dog.

I don't really want Doc to be aggressive or suspicious; it's too much of a liability and can wind up getting him hurt or me sued. I want him to be a nice, friendly dog -- I just don't necessarily want all the bad guys to know he's a nice, friendly dog!

He may turn out to be naturally protective, anyway. Labs aren't very protective dogs, but he's supposedly part Samoyed (doesn't look it, does he?), and they are fairly protective. At home he's a good alarm barker -- he says, "Mom, there's a UPS guy at the door, and it's not the regular UPS guy!" but he shuts up when I come to check things out, and he doesn't bark at the people he knows, like Jeremy, my parents, or the mailman. He sounds very menacing when he barks, too.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Over the years I've learned to trust my instinct completely. This means I take a lot of what seem like risks -- most recently for example, I picked up a male hitchhiker at dusk in the countryside while driving alone. "Eek," said my friends, "You must be mad!" But to me it didn't seem risky at all. The visual clues all said "gay" and "interesting" and I was right. Instinct is just that: racking up all the little clues and making a judgment, more science than magic.

Oddly though, my worst creep experience happened when I wasn't taking any risks whatsoever -- I was safe in bed. Age 24 or so, I was housesitting for a friend, when I was woken by the sound of someone coming down the hall to the bedroom. My boyfriend wasn't due back in town for a couple of days, so who was it? It was the teenaged brother of the friend whose house it was. Very drunk. I told him to get out, but in true creep fashion he ignored that and sat on the bed. He told me he'd been coming to the house every night for the whole fortnight I'd been there, hiding in other rooms and spying on me. The bathroom door had a hole in it, apparently. He thought I was gorgeous, he wanted to have sex with an "older woman". I said "NO" in every way I could think of until finally I hit on the magic words -- I'll tell your brother. He left, and as soon as I heard his car I was out of bed, into my clothes and running down the road to another friend's house.

Reading all the other "creep" stories brought this incident back to me so strongly! The feeling of disbelief -- how can this possibly be happening? -- the mind-numbing fear, other people's off-hand reaction. I never considered going to the police, no-one else took it seriously at all, not even the creep's brother, my friend. He was even a bit miffed that I didn't go back and mind the house. With hindsight it's easy to say I should have done X or Y ... I don't know what I'd do in a similar situation now. Be more angry than afraid, I hope.

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

This is the story of a niave young girl named Kat who thought that nothing bad could happen to her in the quiet little town she lived in. One night as Kat was walking back from her boyfriends' moms' house, a truck drove by. It pulled a U-ey and stopped right next to where she stood. The window rolled down, and a very familiar-looking man said "Hey! How's it going?", and proceeded to make small talk with her. It looked just like a man Kat had worked with the previous summer, and he spoke as if he knew her. In the dark and the shadows, she believed it was. After a short chat about nothing, the man asked Kat if she would like a ride the rest of the way into town. Being tired, Kat hopped in the truck. As she shut the truck door, Kat got her first good look at the man, and realised she did not know him after all. Unfortunately, they were already driving down the road. To make a long story short, this man(Jer, he said) drove Kat out in the middle of nowhere. When she wouldn't do what he wanted her to do he grabbed her by the hair and beat her head against the dash. All the while he was telling her to relax, he wasn't an axe murderer, and besides, he had left his axe at home. HAHA. Kat bit him on his arm(through a jean jacket) hard enough to leave teethmarks. She couldn't leave the car because he had auto locks and every time she tried to unlock the door he would lock it again. She was lucky however, because Jer was drunk and stoned( She learned this during the ride to BFE) and therefore not functioning at top levels. Kat convinced him to take her back into town. The whole ride in, Jer kept telling Her that he hoped they could still be good friends. Meanwhile Kat (who has since given it up) chainsmoked her skinny little-girl cigs. Just before they reacked town, Jer pulled off on the side of the road and began hitting her again. Kat bluffed her way into him letting her unlock the door and get out. As she was exiting the truck, he stuck his leg out and kicked her out of the door. The next morning, Kat reported Jer to the police. When she is nervous or scared, she has a tendency to babble and Jer told her a lot about himself to try to calm her. The cops found Jer. (and his wife. and his kids. and Kats' hair. and her cigs.) He was charged with CSC (I forget what degree, it didn't go to court. He pled guilty to a lesser charge.) and had it put in his record. That was all Kat wanted, so that if he ever tried that again there would be consecquences. As it turned out, when his name was entered into the computer system, various aspects of the attack matched similar (in part anyway) attacks a few towns away. Jer was put into some lineups, and two teenage girls seperately identified him as the man who raped them. Good-bye Jer! But he left his axe at home...

-- Anonymous, September 23, 1999

Beth -- thanks for making the point about fault... it's a critical point and your friend's comments were acidly funny & sad at the same time. I can very much relate to them.

I completely agree -- no matter how polite you are, it IS NOT your fault if he rapes or harms you. It IS difficult to make a switch in dealing with people mid interaction and it's difficult to process what's going on fast enough, sometimes, to realize that a shift needed to be made. I think that's why it bothers me so -- that it IS so hard to know when, to respond on the fly... I was never taught to do that and never really knew any women around me who did (at least, not until I met strong women online).

I do think, though, that if we say some of this stuff, it reinforces (at least for me, it does) that it's natural to feel the societal pull to be polite, but it's also perfectly okay to be crystal clear and even rude when our instincts say so. In other words, if you need to say / do something to feel safe, then by all means, do so. It may not stop the guy. But it might.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

Christ, this forum has been a real horror show. I don't know whether its simply being a guy, or the veneer of social normalcy we all try to maintain, but reading these stories I'm reminded of so many incidents I've witnessed, but had forgotten.

Our neighbourhood is pretty seedy, for a Canadian city. (Which means that if you live in the Lower East Side or the Mission you'd think it was pretty swell, but hey -- it's Canada.) We have a lot of out-patients from the asylum down the street here, in rooming houses and flops, but they're only dangerous to each other, it seems, burning their own houses and apartments out in a few isolated arson incidents.

The real problems came when we had a few hookers on the streetcorners near our old place. Now, there's a strong prostitute's rights movement in this city, and I support it for the most part, but the problem isn't usually the hookers but the clients. My friend Jane, a jazz musician, lived around the corner from me, on a street where a lot of the girls used to solicit business, and she had a problem with being tailed by johns in cars. Now, she might be wearing sweatpants and a big bulky jacket, her hair up, no makeup, carrying her sax cases -- hardly the profile of a working hooker. Still, she'd get followed by guys in cars, asking her "how much" and talking trash.

Now, this might seem something you could just dismiss with a curt "go away, buddy, you've got the wrong girl," but one night my ex and I were walking home when we came upon a woman, eastern european descent, standing at a street corner, her clothes in shreds, screaming. She'd just been pulled into a car and raped, and everybody was ignoring her as they walked by -- it was after midnight. We went over and talked her down and asked if we could help and called the police and walked her to the apartment where she lived with her husband. "He's going to kill me," she kept saying over and over. "He won't understand."

It turns out that she was talking with some friends after coming home from a restaurant, when a man pulled up and called her over. She thought it was someone she knew, but he pulled her into the car, drove away and raped her. We were standing in front of her building when the police showed up. We gave them our names and number, told them what happened, and left the woman with them.

A week later they came by our place, told us that they'd taken her back to the police station, where she'd walked out, refusing to press charges out of fear of her husband. And the whole time, while they were telling us this, and asking us questions, they treated us with the most visible suspicion, measurable hostility. I felt sorry for the woman -- never mind the husband, imagine what the cops made her feel like.

And in answer to the question about "why doesn't this stuff happen to guys?": years ago I lived near the gay ghetto here in town. I was waiting on the platform at the subway station when this frail old man came along and told me he was feeling faint, could I hold his hand and keep him steady. Of course I did. The subway came and I helped him to a seat, where he asked me to sit next to him, still holding my hand. He started saying, "I get some people would think it was pretty odd, you holding my hand and all." Being the nice liberal, I told him that it didn't matter at all. Then he started talking some pretty freaky shit, and I politely pulled my hand away, told him to take care of himself, and got off at the next stop. The sum total of my experiences as the victim of any kind of "sexual harassment."

No comparison, really.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

I yell at them. I scream like a banshee. I act like a raging bitch. And I don't care.

Age 12-13: I can't walk anywhere in my neighborhood - which was near a major street - without getting honked at by passing cars or stared at by men. I finally stop going across the street to the library, the only place I felt safe, because I can't stand the honking and whistling and stares. One day, at the park, I am approached by a long haired guy on a ten speed who follows me, tells me I'm pretty. I leave the park quickly, run home, duck behind my porch's brick wall and watch him ride by. I am unseen, thankfully.

Age 14-22: Later, rinse, repeat: followed, honked at, whistled at, etc. All these years, I never say a word. I bear the shame and fear silently.

Age 24: While standing at a bus stop in the morning on the way to work, an old man walks in front of me, stops and asks "Why don't you smile? You never smile?" and then proceeds to hit on me, standing very close, etc. Ignorning him isn't working. Something inside me snaps. "Why does every man on the planet automatically assume that a woman wants to talk to them?" I yell at him, "I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone." And I've never felt better.

Age 26, Spring: I am walking to the store when I notice the sound of shuffling footsteps behind me. I turn back to see a young man following me. No big deal, I think. It may be coincidence. I continue. However, there are bleachers on the sidewalk for a parade and I decide to walk in the street, rather than behind them, where I will be confined in a narrow space. This is the first test. I fully expect him to walk behind the bleachers - there's room. He doesn't. He follows me. It goes on for several blocks. At the final intersection before the store, I get the blinking "Don't Walk" and so I run across the street, hoping to lose him. Hr runs too. Now, it's broad daylight. There are cars around. It's an open area. But I'm afraid. He catches up with me. "Hello." I ignore him and pick up my pace and he matches it. Finally, panicked and unable to breathe, I stop in front of the store, turn to him with the steely glare my mother taught me and scream "Get the fuck away from me!" He looks at me like *I'm crazy*. And I keep walking, and he follows - but doesn't come into the store.

I will keep on yelling at every weirdo man who follows me until it stops.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

I don't know why I just thought of this. In reading the posts about the women who try to be polite, make excuses, don't want to offend the Creepy Guy, etc. I remembered something about how if you go into the woods with a camera, a deer doesn't know you aren't there to kill it. It trusts its instincts and RUNS. A deer doesn't worry about being polite to you or offending you by running away.

I say be like a deer. It may be a Creepy Guy, or it may just be a guy trying to be nice, but trust your instincts. I know this is a weird analogy, but it's better to be safe than sorry. It's better to offend someone (if you can offend a Creepy Guy), than be polite but be scared.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

Okay, I'm going to respectfully disagree with some of you. Please note that this is a personal choice, made after lots of reflection and some really shitty experiences.

I'm not speaking from naivete (I can't spell that word; forgive me) here. I've been raped, harrassed, followed, stalked, and thoroughly freaked out by strangers, ex-boyfriends, casual acquaintances, and people I only knew by sight. Listed all together like that, that makes me sound like a perpetual victim, doesn't it? But it's a pretty common list of experiences, as most of the women here can attest.

I used to be a freak magnet in a big way, because I was shy but compulsively polite and friendly. I am still shy but compulsively polite and friendly, and this recent Creepy Guy experience is the first one I've had in years. You may have noticed that I am not being terrorized by Creepy Guy -- I'm keeping an eye out for him, yes. I've changed my routine a little. My boyfriend is asking neighbors about him to try to figure out what his deal is.

After some really bad experiences, I started reacting to anyone who spoke to me in a hostile and defensive fashion. "Leave me the fuck alone" was my standard response to any guy who approached me, on the street or otherwise. I had been through counseling, I had my little support group, and goddamnit, I was Empowered.

But after a couple of years of that, I got angry again. So the world is full of psychos and assholes and creepy guys. That means that I have to be the one to change my personality? That makes no sense. The world doesn't need another hostile person. And I don't think turning into a nasty, defensive bitch made me strong and powerful. I think it made me a victim.

This discussion has made me realize my error with Creepy Guy, but the error wasn't in being nice to him in the first place. The error was in not being extremely forthright once he turned into Creepy Guy -- and I don't mean by screaming at him to get out of my space. The guy is retarded, after all. What would work on him is not what would work on a guy of normal intelligence, and vice versa.

I've used this approach (the approach I *should* have used this time) in the past on two occasions that I can remember. Once was with a guy -- also apparently retarded -- who sat by me on the bus. I smiled at him when he sat down, and then went back to reading my book. Since I was reading, it took me a few seconds to register that he had moved in the seat so that he was pressing his arm up against my breast. It was definitely intentional; I could tell that by the look on his face. I closed my book and said to him in a very stern voice (the voice you'd use on a kid): "You go sit over there!" And he did.

When I got up to get off the bus, I saw him stand up in his seat behind me. "You sit down!" I said, again in the voice I'd use to tell Doc to get off the sofa. He meekly sat down. I'm sure the whole bus thought I was an idiot, but it worked like a charm.

Obviously, with a different guy, that might have gotten my ass kicked. It was an extreme situation in a very public place, though, and it's what I should have done with Creepy Guy -- I should have said, in that firm Mom voice, "You don't talk to me like that." Based on what I've seen of him with other people, I think it would have worked. I must be out of practice.

With other guys -- the apparently "normal" guys who try to pick you up at the supermarket or at the bus stop -- I guess you just have to adopt the attitude that you're (1) not interested in any guy who tries to hit on you on the street, anyway and (2) far too busy to stand around and debate the issue. These days, I'm friendly to just about everyone, and I'll exchange about five words of chit chat with anyone who wants to. But as soon as the "you're very pretty" or "are you married?" happens, I say (literally), "sorry, not interested," and move on immediately. I either walk away or turn my back. You'd think that wouldn't work, but honestly, creeps don't chase me anymore. And I don't have to feel like a bitch.

Of course, genuine crazies (the ones who talk to parking meters or follow Gabby around Chicago) are different, and are best dealt with by grabbing the nearest cop or screaming very loudly.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

I waited tables for about 10 years of my life. I have a million creepy guy stories. But the story I am going to tell is not about a creepy guy, but a creepy woman.

I was working at a school for children with special needs. CP, Autism, neglect, you name it. We had a physical therapist that came in three times a week to work with the kids. Because she only worked with the physically handicapped children, this was time for the other children to go outside for their exercise. She often asked me to stay and assist her, and we were often left in the room alone. Now I have to tell you that at first I really liked this woman, she was so great with the kids, she was funny, and really intelligent. I had a lot of respect for her. Through the months, she told me she was gay. I was not shocked by this, I pretty much had figured it out. She talked openly of her recent failed relationship, and I told her of my recent engagement to my fiance. This casual friendship went on for a year.

One day she asked me if I would like to go to lunch with her and another woman from work. I did not question this at all. The other woman was married with three children, so I figured it was perfectly harmless. During the course of lunch, I found out that these two woman, on many occasions, had been sexually involved with each other. Now, I was twenty-three, very naive, and I know my jaw must have dropped to the floor. They were just sitting there discussing how much fun they had fucking, and how they were sorry that it had to end (The physical therapist was feeling a little guilty about the married woman's husband). And I realized at that moment I had pretty much been set up. My PT friend pulled out a few pieces of paper. She had written down every time we had ever been in contact. From the first time she met me, til her anticipation of our little lunch date. She started reading all of this to me and the married woman just sat there with a little smile on her face.

I told the PT woman that I was not sure what she expected to come of this, but I was not interested in any sort of relationship. I told her that I was not gay, I was straight, I was engaged, and very happy in my relationship.

She was not happy with this answer. She got very angry and started throwing things I had discussed with her in my face. Like the fact that I loved the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, and many other trivial comments I had made that for the past year had been convincing her that I was, in fact, gay, and just looking for the right person to show me the light.

I left the lunch, in tears and told myself I would just avoid her. This is where the harassment started.

I waited tables at night and she started calling my work, drunk, to let me know she was thinking of me and that I was Ophelia to her Hamlet(huh?), etc. etc. etc. She started trying to corner me at the school to discuss her feelings for me. She would call my house and leave messages constantly. Some nice, some drunk and mean. After a few weeks of me successfully avoiding her, she started to get mad. She started leaving me long, nasty, rude letters in my office mail box. The messages at home got longer and uglier. She started threatening me. She started talking about the clothes and makeup I wore and how I had set out to torture and hurt her. She started bringing gay porn into my classroom and asking other people to give it to me.

Up until this point I had not told a single person about my problems with her. I think because it was a woman who was harrassing me, in my mind I did not give the harassment the same weight that I would have, had it been coming from a man. I never would have put up with that shit from a man. I had also always taken a lot of pride in my acceptance of people. I was afraid of appearing homophobic. I blamed myself. I wondered if maybe I HAD sent out the wrong signals. I wondered if I did wear the wrong clothes or too much makeup. I think I also felt a little sorry for her. I was worried that people would think I had lead her on.

Eventually I told another woman in my classroom. She pretty much freaked. She walked me right over to our administrator, who immediately put me on conference call with the county administrator. My harrassment was serious. I was the only one who hadn't realized that.

Sorry this is so long.

I just want people to realize, that in certain situations, a woman can be just as creepy as a man.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

I've got way too many creepy guy stories from my youth. Although, since I went to college I've managed to keep them at bay. I try and keep and aura of "fuck off" about me (someone called that "walking big" earlier) when I'm walking out and about, especially at night. I haven't carried mace in awhile but I may start now since I've been working late into the night a bit recently. It gives me another sense of empowerment. And, no way do I keep it in my bookbag or purse, it goes right in my pocket where I can grab it out as necessary.

I have to say, though, that I met the most creepiest of guys (ranging from mentally disturbed to your average middle-aged, white male fatherly type) when I was waitressing. There's something about men and having women serve them that gives them some sort of cocky attitude. I'm sure half the time they honestly believe they're being remarkably suave and debonair when in reality they're acting like arrogant dorks. It's also sort of a power trip in that they feel that you can't mouth off back to them because it's somehow you're job to just take it. Management isn't always very supportive either.

When I worked a crappy pizza job for a crappy chain restaurant the manager used to send out the pizza cutter and the cook (two very big guys) to drag me back into the kitchen whenever he thought trouble was going to be brewing. This one guy was verbally abusing his wife rather loudly when one of the other waitresses (a nicer girl couldn't be found -- people asked for her by name) approached with their boxed up dinners and asked if she could get them anything else. The big guy stood up and got in her face and told her to "fuck off." She started crying and as I headed over there to tell him to leave (asking mgmt to do something about it never worked) the boss had me thrown in the cooler in the back of the kitchen. Of course, that was the *last* time he ever did that because I gave him an earful and told him I would report him if he ever falsely imprisoned me again. I also told him that if he didn't stick up for the waitresses that I would just start immediately calling the police. He was a little more helpful after that.

-- Anonymous, September 24, 1999

Beth, great answer about different responses to different creepy guys.

Unfortunately, you are one of the few people who actually has a bit of compassion for retarded (err, developmentally disabled) people.

If Jeremy can just get his first and last name, I can find out if he has a service coordinator and see if something can be done. I think it's so cool how you guys are handling it.

And you're right...you shouldn't have to change your life to suit the creepy guys of the world...but we shouldn't have to do a lot of things in this world that inevitably we just have to do (laundry comes to mind in my case. heheh)

-- Anonymous, September 25, 1999

I have been a creepy guy.

I found this board very instructive about how NOT to go about pursuing a woman. As a guy who has long been vexed about why women have described me behind my back as "creepy", I now feel enlightened.

For most of my life I have been quite socially inept and awkward. I'm pretty much your run of the mill pencil-necked nerd. I'm now in my early 20s, and until the middle of high school, I could safely say I had no friends. My only avenues for social interaction were my family members and their respective friends. As a result, I have a lot of compassion for the socially challenged, and it makes me sad to think this this world isn't for the most part very understanding of them. There are many socially inept people out there. Most of them are not mentally ill, do not have violent tendancies, have no sick sexual perversions, and are not addicted to any chemical substances. They were just never lucky enough to learn the intricate subtleties of proper, nonthreatening human interaction during their formative years.

There are many things about our behavior and our personalities we take totally for granted, never stopping to realize that we internalized "a proper way" very early on. The way we walk and sit, how close to people we stand, and how often we make eye contact with people are good examples. I, not knowing any better, used to make lewd humor in mixed company, because I thought it was "just the way I joke around." I used to stare at people in public, because the daily workings of "normal people" fascinated me. When I was thinking of something funny, I'd sometimes look at someone, or just stare into space, and grin. I read aloud to myself. I realize now that these are things that most people not only just don't do (and have good reasons for not doing), but also, these are behaviors that would tend to make many people who don't know me well VERY suspicious of my intentions, and VERY distrusting of me!

Of course, I didn't even realize I was committing such behaviors. I made every effort to show others that I was gentle, warm, and not in the least way harmful, and that's why others' assessments of me as "creepy" absolutely killed me! However, I had moved to a different state, and tried hard to hide my pre-college socially inept past from all my new friends and acquaintences, so they had no idea what my real reasons were for acting as I did.

This went especially for relations with women. The male sex drive and any degree of social awkwardness make bad chemistry. I was never good at taking hints of any kind, including those to the effect of "I'm not interested." Nor was I good at assessing a strategy for approaching a woman as appropriate and charming versus inappropriate and stalkerish. As a guy who's not ugly or fat, I couldn't see why women ran from me, not to me.

Now I know a lot better. Before hugging a woman the second time we've met, or letting my eyes wander from her eyes to her chest, I stop myself and think "Would I be creeped out by that if I were her?" If I can't make up my mind, the default answer is "yes, probably".

To all the women out there, I understand that there is a potential danger with some creepy guys, and being on guard is just good sense. But I'd venture a guess that the only thing most of them need are a look at a bulletin board full of stories like this one, or a good, long, nonthreatening talk from a person they trust, or a friend (if they have any). It's like looking in a mirror for the first time.

-- Dave

-- Anonymous, July 10, 2001

As a guy who's not ugly or fat, I couldn't see why women ran from me, not to me.

This thought sounds odd to me.

Before hugging a woman the second time we've met, or letting my eyes wander from her eyes to her chest, I stop myself and think "Would I be creeped out by that if I were her?" If I can't make up my mind, the default answer is "yes, probably".

This one even odder.

Dude, never let a woman see you lookin' at the boobies unless that woman has bared them specifically for your enjoyment. Until then, take advice from that Seinfeld episode - treat them like the sun, glance and look away - and always do it from a stealth angle.

-- Anonymous, July 10, 2001