I had a friend for 10 years.
He was such a good friend we even welcomed him into our home for Thanksgiving this year. In the past he’d stayed with us on his way through town, but this year we actually enjoyed his company for Thanksgiving itself.
But something in my friend snapped.
For the past few weeks he has, for lack of any better word, stalked me.
It started off innocuously enough – he would make comments he considered ‘flattering’ about my looks. I’m not the kind of girl who enjoys those remarks. I’d much, much rather be known for my intelligence than my hair or my legs or whatever. Greg was a good sport about it and brushed it off, but eventually, after our Thanksgiving visit, I nicely told my friend to cool it.
But he couldn’t.
He got more and more intense – even when I told him in no uncertain terms that he was being offensive and he needed to stop – until the point where I had to block him on Facebook.
Then he – get this – made up a fake Facebook profile and wormed his way into my friends list. Normally I wouldn’t let someone whose name I didn’t recognize be my Facebook friend, but my name has gotten ‘out there’ by virtue of some of my public activities and he did a very good job of making the profile fit the kind of person I might expect to send me a friend request out of the blue. The guy spent a lot of time on this profile. It wasn’t an obvious fake. He invented kids, careers, information about parents and in-laws, the whole nine yards.
It took me about a week to get suspicious enough to think ‘she’ was not just an eccentric. Then, thanks to Google’s reverse image search, I found out that every single photo on this person’s Facebook profile had been stolen from other people on the internet. After that little revelation, I confronted ‘her.’ ‘She’ claimed that yes, that was deceptive, but that ‘she’ really WAS a housewife stuck out in the sticks in rural Missouri, boo-hoo-frickin’-hoo, and while the photos were fake everything else was true.
I’m not all that gullible.
So Greg set to work, and within 5 minutes found out this person had commented on our blog from St. George, Utah.
St. George, Utah, is where my former friend sometimes goes on the weekends, and yes, those blog comments were posted on a weekend.
Then we checked our Statcounter logs and realized that he had been searching his name on our blog every single day and reading it over and over, sometimes for hours at a time.
So Greg blocked access to anybody in Nevada (the guy lives in Vegas).
And now the guy’s been reading Google cache versions.
Greg’s asked Google to remove them.
I’ve thought about taking the blog down, at least temporarily, until this is all over. But dammit, why should I have to do that? This blog is up here primarily for us, and for any others who actually find it entertaining. Why should I have to take it down because someone can’t control himself and this seeming obsession with absolutely no basis in reality?
Anyway, this is one reason I haven’t been posting lately.
I’ve never been a big fan of having firearms around, and have especially been opposed to them because we’ve got children in the home, at least one of whom is still too young to fully grasp the gravity of firearms. My feeling is that if you’re keeping a firearm around for protection, it’s not going to do you much good unless it’s loaded and ready to go so you’re not fumbling around with trigger locks and ammunition boxes and the like while someone’s coming through your front door.
Now I’m seriously rethinking this position of opposition. Greg and I have spent significant time talking about how to keep a loaded firearm where I can get to it from a position of fortification within our home.
And it really pisses me off that I have to do that.
But when it comes to my family, make no mistake. I have zero compassion for anything – man, woman, or beast – that tries to harm me or my family. I will not hesitate for one second to kill anything – ANYTHING – I think is a threat.