White Man

You never know when or where a creeper is going to appear.  This is why you must always be on guard, and why you should always have a friend as your designated "creeper detractor."

A creeper detractor is someone you can call whenever you need to be occupied so as not to talk to them.  Like if your cashier at Safeway is a regular creeper, you call her (or him, I guess) and talk to her whenever you check out.  If she doesn't answer, she knows what's going on when you leave her a message going, "Yeah!  I know, right?  It was so bizarre.  I mean, who even does she think she is?"  This creeper detractor is also useful when you feel there is a creeper stalking you and you need someone to be on the alert in case the police become involved.

The latter is what my creeper detractor, Angie, did for me today.

Yes.  Today.  I'm not even exaggerating.

I innocently went to Safeway (and as I type this, I am beginning to think Safeway and I should go our separate ways) to get milk and bread.  As I parked my car, there was a regular, middle aged white man with glasses (just so you know how not-creepery he seemed) was walking past me.  He stared into my car, and then continued walking.  I was not concerned.  Yet.

As he walked into Safeway, he kept turning around and looking at me.  Intently.  As I walked into the Safeway (mistake number 1), he continued staring.  At one point, he literally just stood in the entrance staring at me.

I decided to take the long way to the milk and bread.  Also, I'm new to the area, so I don't really know where the bread is in this Safeway.  (Mistake number 2: always know exactly where you're going when being stalked.  It makes for quicker getaways.)  As I wandered, mostly lost now, around the Safeway, he popped out of aisles no less than 3 times.  Each time looking at me intently.

I say "intently" because there was nothing subtle about his stare.  It was one of those "I'm memorizing your very face" type of stares.

I found the bread, quickly grabbed a loaf, and began to leave.  But I wasn't quick enough.  This time, he spoke.

"Hi.  How are you?"  He said, staring.

I think I grunted something and then left quickly.

The check out process was rather difficult as I was flustered and trying to leave faster than I really could.  It didn't help that he got in the lane next to me.

I left the store, called Angie, and jumped into my car.  And then I saw him leaving the Safeway.

With not a single item purchased.

Sniper

My dear friends Larissa and Beth wanted to go out.  Beth was new in town, and she'd never been to our "downtown."  (It's not much of a downtown.  There's a whole block of stuff, and then nothing.  Thus, the quotation marks.)  So we said we'd take her down, show her the 5 bars, get in a little country line dancing maybe.

We started at this bar that usually has a great live band.  I mean, cover band, but they're still good.  (It's not much of a town for the music scene either.)  Sadly, some kind of alien abduction must have happened, because we were three of a total eight people in the bar.  I'm not even exaggerating.  So we sat there, having our beers and talking about where we'd go next.

For some reason, I started telling a creeper story.  It's what I do.

Then, two girls behind Beth and Larissa started making out.  Now, I have nothing against this, but it's an important part of the story.  And also, it did take me a little aback.  Just like I would have if it'd been a straight couple.  I pointed it out, the girls took a 2 second look, and we went back to my story.

Then an entire glass of beer landed on Beth.

Turns out, the girls thought that these three guys (also behind us) had taken a picture of their little make out session.  And while punching and actually trying to strangle one of them, the girls had accidentally thrown a beer on Beth.

For some drunken reason, Larissa decided to buy the poor beat up fellow a shot.  And then the three boys decided to follow us around for quite some time.

In events following, I somehow found myself the newest recipient of "Sniper's" love.  He got ahold of my phone, and thus phone number, and began calling me.  Not the next day.  That same night.  Whenever I was out of his sight.  (Once I was in the bathroom.  It was not a pleasant conversation.)

I informed Sniper that he was alone in his feelings.  He told me that he was in the army.  (That's the normal pick up line for our town.)  I told him I didn't care.  He told me he was a sniper.  I told him to go away.  He asked me to go see a movie with him.  I told him I thought he was a dbag.  He told me I was sexy.  You get the point.

The following day, I received no less than 30 text messages from him.  Asking if I'd like to come "hang out in the barracks" and other such things.  Occasionally, he must have gotten confused about what "sent" and "received" meant, because he would text me, "I think ur sexy," and then say, "I think ur sexy, too."  And a number of other such one person conversations.

At some point, I decided enough was enough and texted him that there was no way he was ever going to see me again, and that he should just stop.  He then texted me no less than 10 messages about how I must be bipolar, as I had invited him to the movies and called him sexy earlier.

Creeper and stupid.  It's a wonder he's not snatched up yet.

As a side note, I recently found some pictures from that night.  He is lurking in the background.  It's a terrible shame such cute pictures have gone to waste like that.

Will

There's this knack I have for attracting creepers.  I sometimes truly wonder if it's something inherent about me, or if it's something like my perfume.

This may explain why I change perfumes about every 2 months.  As it hasn't stopped the creepers, I should probably assume that's not the cause.

Anyway, it happens so often, that sometimes I forget about them.  And then the wonder that is facebook reminds me.

Last night, my roommate Lauren and I were sitting on the couch.  I was avoiding homework, she was stalking looking at people on facebook.  This is the ensuing conversation:

Lauren: Hey, Quinn, how do you know Will Bretter?
Me: Who?
L: You're friends with him on facebook.
M (grabbing my laptop and logging on): Oh, that guy.  I don't know.  He turns up on my newsfeed every now and then, but I have no...oooooohhhhhh...ooohhh nooooo!
L (with some hysterical laughing): Creeper?
M: Yup.  Yup, that's it.  Maybe I should defriend him...

See, I had completely forgotten that at a Christmas party with some friends about 2 years ago, there had been this new guy.  He was one of those guys that doesn't stand out too much--not to be mean, but you know the type.  I'm sure I said hi to him, but I truly don't remember any conversations we had.  I went home, thinking nothing of the interaction.  And then he asked to be my friend on facebook.  My process for deciding whether to be friends with someone goes like this: 1) Will I see him/her on a regular basis?  And if so, how awkward would it be for me to not be friends with them?  2) Do I know the person?  (I don't do that whole, "Hey!  We have the same last name!  Let's be friends!"  It's silly.)  3) Do I feel like they're going to stalk me and/or get me fired for posting those Halloween party pictures?  If I can feel mildly good about the answers to these questions, I will accept the friend request.

I apparently misjudged Will.  Because I had accepted his request, he started asking me out.

Over facebook.

Frequently.

Thank goodness that nonsense has ended, but there he still is.  My friend on facebook.  What's more, Lauren pointed out that he is friends with several people we are friends with.  Which means, he may be coming back into my life.  While I will try to avoid that, Lauren is looking forward to witnessing the new stories it may bring.

Oh, facebook...

Allan

When I was in college, I lived in this house that had been separated into two apartments.  Two other girls and I lived in the top apartment.  Approximately 900 guys lived below us.  (Or 5.  I can't remember which.)  Down the street from us lived another house of 28,493 guys (or again, 5) that mostly hung out in our house.  I blame my roommate, Shauna, for being such a good cook.

Needless to say, I thought I was in heaven.  I mean, 3,043,894 guys (or 10...) were constantly in my house, hanging out with me, and seeing my occasional good hair day!  Surely one of these fellows would not be a creeper, right?

Well, they might have been 90% good guys, but the one that fell for me was not.  His name was Allan.

As Allan will be the topic of many of my stories, I should tell you that his real name has actually escaped me.  We nicknamed him at one point (Creepfestos--that story to come), so I have been referring to him as such ever since.  Thus, his real name might be Allan, though I doubt it.

Allan had met the boys down the street while playing Ultimate Frisbee.  If you are not familiar with Ultimate Frisbee (or "Ultimate" as the regular players call it), consider yourself lucky.  It is a stupid game.  (Sorry if you love it.  I just don't understand the point of playing touch football with a Frisbee.  If you disagree, feel free to leave an intelligent comment as to why.)  Shauna had met him, and she assured me he was "quality."  So I went to meet him one fateful day.

Here's the basic run down of how that first meeting went:  He bought me a burrito (yay! points!), and then sat next to me so close his arm was leaving sweat beads on mine (ew! loss of points.).  He then followed us (yes, followed, as we did not actually invite him) to the pool.  He remarked one too many times on my piercings (I have a few, but they're all in totally appropriate places.  The remarks were just creepy.) and my bikini.  He then followed us back to our house, sat too close again, and stared at me while we watched Dancing with the Stars Season 1.  Yes.  Stared at ME.  Not the tv.

I told Shauna I got a weird vibe from him, and that I wasn't interested.  She shrugged, as we didn't think we'd see him again.

A week later, he came back from his vacation to Tennessee.  He walked into my bedroom, and began handing me things.  They turned out to be presents.

He bought me upwards of 5 presents after our 1 meeting.  They were "personalized."  Such as a miniature teddy bear with a little cardboard flower glued to its front that read "Quinn."  And a shot glass that he said, "Reminded me of that conversation we had."  And a Quinn magnet.  And a picture of a dog.

Needless to say, I knew at that moment I had a new creeper.

To Protect the Creepy

Hello!  My name is Quinn*, and I attract creepers.

I feel like there should be a support group for people like me.  We'd sit around and discuss the creepers we have recently attracted, what it is we're doing to attract them, and what we could do to attract not so creepy fellows.

Anyway, as the blog title suggests, none of the names on this blog are real.  Mostly because I am afraid if word gets out, I'll attract more creepers.  I don't think they shy away from attention, so I doubt this blog will help me not attract them.

My dear friend, Sarah, who I complain to on a too-regular-basis said that my life resembles the exact opposite of Carrie Bradshaw's, from Sex and the City (in the City? I can never remember), and that I should start sharing my stories with the world.  So that's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to tell the internet, and anyone who should stumble upon this blog, what exactly has happened to me.

I hope you find it as funny as I do.  Because I think, "If I can't laugh at my life, it would get very depressing."  And most of these stories are funny.

Most of them.

And at some point, if you all have great creeper stories, I'll share those, too!  I'll even change the names for you.  Cause I really like making up names.  And I promise, other than some tiny exaggeration, the names will be the only thing fabricated in this blog.

Happy reading.  I hope you enjoy.

*Obviously, not my real name.