Thursday, February 5, 2009

Go away, shmuck, you bother me

Being a member of the blogosphere is very similar to opening your curtains and turning on all the lights in the dark of the night and prancing about in your totally nude. Or at least in your Fruit of the Looms. OK, there are some of us (you) who are fully dressed but parade around in your domicile hoping a crowd will gather on your behalf. You're fully aware that the neighbors and passers by will see you strutting about in your Lady Godiva glory. You welcome it!
Blogging is something of which nearly everybody and their brother participates. I have 9 siblings and, to my knowledge, only three or four of us regularly and ritually blog. I'm getting off track. So, stop me whenever I start going into the grassy knoll of my brain, k? Thanks.
I am not a stranger to drawing attention to myself. Ask any one of those 9 siblings of mine what I was like as a child or how I behave at family get-togethers and each one of them will have a tale of Rissy being dramatic. It's what I do. No, I don't cause trouble, but I am prone to bursting into song. I prefer to be non-confrontational. What I have is a boisterousness that can drown out our entire brood when necessary. It is then they pretend I'm some alien planet inhabitant that managed to ease its way into the fold. Whatev! It's not like such antics are displayed in public. I do have a sense of decorum.
In the crazy blogging world of the Internet, I let my hair down. I try to respect the boundaries set by the author of the blog before I get all wildhairish. Take Sean Daly's Pop Life, for instance. I pretty much let it all hang out without being overtly vulgar. I am prone to tip toeing on the gutter side of life with infusion of double entendre and innuendo. It's not like I'm the only person who is on board with that. It's a matter that it's my niche.
I am, without a doubt, a semi-open book. I don't throw it all out there for your perusal or scrutiny. I have some shame and humility. I'd like to be one of those people who can just spew everything that's a part of my past and present, but I don't. C'mon, I"m not an idiot!
What you see is what I choose to allow you to view. From my vulnerabilities to my first thing in the morning appearance, you have been welcomed into my world. I'm grateful it's all been kindly received. Clearly, the haters have opted to take the high road. Which is nice. Well, it's that or no one hates me and all those years of eating worms was for naught.
Giving readers subjects they can relate to or even mildly amuses them makes me feel like I'm doing my part to help humanity while working through my own Rissues. What bothers me (and I'm getting to the whole point of this particular post) is when a person thinks I'm joking when I have told him to beat it. To paraphrase, "We live in different worlds. I no longer want to pretend you could ever be part of my world. Please, leave me alone." Any and all emails delivered to my mailbox have been deleted. I do not even bother to see what he has to say.
I know this blog leaves me wide open like Bambi's momma. I realize that anytime I subscribe to a particular website such as Facebook, Imeem, Pandora or Netflix, I am putting parts my life out there for public view. Regardless of privacy settings, people can snoop. I enjoy becoming acquainted with people who share my interests. It's not that for which I am about to complain.
The creepiness and irritation factor comes in when someone feels the need to send me messages about movies that I have received from Netflix. Messages aren't sent via the website. The notes arrive via Yahoo instant messenger offline. This person, as I stated, was told months ago that our relationship was no longer viable. Friendship or otherwise, I was not interested. He is someone with whom I shared an intimate relationship. If you call doing the horizontal bop repeatedly a relationship. Yes, we had many conversations between and out of the sheets. But that ended a long time ago. I wasn't interested in the sordid expectations. I tried to be a friend only, but reminders of what we did together and what he'd want me to do in the future was always forced into what started out to be a normal situation.
By all rights, one might think this fellow is a stalker. My thought is that because he has wealth, resources and opportunity, he can do what he pleases. That includes spying on women who no longer require his presence.. He's letting me know that he can still get to me if he wanted to. We've not seen each other in well over 8 years.
So, to him I say this: I know I'm quite the minx, but give it a rest, will ya!? I was and am serious. I'm not flattered in the least.


  1. Oy! SO SORRY to hear about Creepy Bastard. This is sadly why I've been password protecting my blog. I wish I could put my password out there for everyone but "them", but even using a fake name, I feel just as nude as you do... perverts peeping in the windows and such. It sounds like your stalker is literate, so perhaps he will finally take this personal dedication not as a token of affection, but a real smack to the head to go the F away.

  2. I'm sorry to have to read this. I hope all gets straightened out soon. I'm here for you if you need me you know where to find me. xoxoxoxo

  3. Oh no! I'm sorry - that has got to be creepy and irritating...

  4. Now listen S@#$%&*D - leave the lady alone

  5. So what's this thing you keep sending me? It's called a "Restraining Order?" I don't get it ... well, at least you're still thinking of me .. :-)

    Seriously, tell this idiot you're going to call the cops, then do. Cyberstalking is illegal. And this person may be dangerous. What we called so politely in the the South a "Peace Bond" does get the message across. Restraining order time.

  6. Do I need to go voodoo on his ass?


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