Ruth says that I am unusually sensitive to stalker like behaviors (she didn’t mean it in a bad way). I would never leave repeat voicemails or send multiple emails without getting a response (with one exception, which I won’t go into but no one who heard the details would think it’s weird). I would never read the blogs of people who don’t like me (shit- i didn’t even read the trash at Jill Staneck’s place, apparently being trashed by Staneck gives me feminist blogger rock star cred- who knew?) or even of people I don’t like. Life is too short to be worried about people who don’t wish you well, and I’ve never really cared about other people’s opinions of me. I would never troll a blog (except that one time that OD made me do it to explain privilege to a clueless white dude, but even then I felt super icky about it for days). I don’t google ex-boyfriends or friends to see what they’re up to. These things, to me, seem like the height of rudeness and intrusion.

Actually, I am way more likely to never call or send an email unless one has been sent to me first. This has been a bone of contention with romantic interests and friends in the past. My big response is- meh.

So when people do those things to me (and there will be more a few reading this blog post and wondering if I mean them- and I probably do mean them) I feel both icky and pissed. Seriously, what part of banning, refusing to answer emails, telling you I have no interest in further conversation by using the time honored classic “fuck off” is unclear? Why would you, stalker types, want to hang around a place where you are unwanted, or get the attention of a person who thinks that a vacation to the green zone in Iraq would be more pleasant than being your facebook friend? What is so broken in you that a relationship founded on disgust and harassment sounds swell?

I do not understand this behavior. And worse, I really don’t want to understand it. I really just want the stalker types to get a clue and move on, preferably to a desert island with no internet access.

But you know, I’m sensitive that way.