I first told you about my stalker last month in Random Thoughts on a Sunday Afternoon, except that he wasn't really a stalker then. I thought that since his calls stopped on that day after I forwarded them to the police department that I was done with him. I thought that he was just a silly young kid (age 25) who wanted a little attention and then he'd go away.
I thought wrong.
He has called quite a bit since then. Yes, he has been told to stop.
I usually don't answer the call (I can't seem to manage to get the number effectively blocked. I'll be calling the phone company today for assistance). When I have answered the call I get interesting information about where I am, where I've been, or what I've been wearing in public.
I told Hubby about it several weeks ago. Like me, he thought the kid would get bored and that it would stop.
This weekend, he called 12 times. Most, although not all, of the calls are late at night.
So Hubby decided that he would call the number and talk to the young man. Guess what? The number forwards back to my cell phone.
I wasn't worried until he crossed the line from sweet but horny young guy to stalker. Heck, having my own stalker kind of means that I have arrived, doesn't it?
Okay, okay. I know I shouldn't joke about such a thing, and I'll admit I'm a little nervous.
Since I suspect my stalker is a PWK reader, I'm taking this opportunity to let him know that, in addition to calling the phone company today, I'll be calling the police and filing a report. Stalking is a crime.
It's all fun and games until someone gets arrested, my young stalker.