I haven't written about this on the blog before, but those of you whom I've told in outside conversations already know how ridiculous this is going to sound. Here goes: for the past several months, my mother has been stalked by an acquaintance from her church. "Stalking" is not a term that I use lightly -- as you likely well know -- but I have no other term for an individual who sends creepy cards, phones incessantly (he literally called forty -- yes, 40 -- times on one particular day), stares at his target constantly during church sessions and follows her around afterwards despite being told to stop, and frequently drives past the home of another person who lives in a different town in a residential neighborhood on a freaking cul-de-sac for the sole purpose of peering into the garage and leaving pamphlets and church programs on the porch.

As you'll see on the scanned card I've included below, this shit has more or less been going on since June, though it's really escalated since my parents' divorce was finalized (which actually may or may not have happened before June; I'm not entirely sure). It pisses me off not only because this freakshow is (or hopefully was) stalking my mother, but also because until very recently she refused to listen to the people (including myself) who have been telling her to do something about it pretty much since it began. I mean, if you were talking to some guy who made an offhand comment about a member of your family staying up really late, only to reveal that he had gained this knowledge because he couldn't sleep and therefore looked up your address in the church directory and went driving by your home -- in another town in a residential neighborhood on a freaking cul-de-sac -- at 3:00 AM, how would you react? Or if the guy mailed you a pamphlet on HIV -- yes, the dude has AIDS (I make no distinction; as far as I'm concerned HIV is like AIDS 1.0) -- with the parts about how it is possible for an uninfected person to have a safe and fulfilling sexual relationship with an infected person highlighted in yellow marker? Or if he (yes, I know I'm repeating things) routinely called you between five and forty times in a single night, frequently demanding to know who told you he has AIDS and angrily hanging up when you refuse to tell him (only to call back several minutes later)? Or tailing you to the supermarket and shouting, "SNOB! YOU'RE NOT BETTER THAN ME!" at your back after you declined to converse with him at that moment? Or if he fucking followed you in his car after church one day, prompting you to break out your most stylish evasive techniques to shake him off your tail? Despite all of this insane shit -- my mother came back from that last incident sounding freaking excited, like she'd just lived a scene out of her favorite movie -- my mother not only never sought any help but in fact continued to associate with the bastard. It really has underscored just how stupid -- "naive" is too nice a word -- she is.

Mom wasn't even going to do anything when, the Saturday before last, he telephoned her several times to curse her out -- calling her a "snob," a "witch," and a "fucking bitch" -- and then approached her at church on Sunday, snatched her hand when she refused to shake his, squeezed it hard, and hissed, "BITCH!" at her. Luckily, some other folks saw it and coerced her to report the incident to the military police (my mother attends church on the local army base). After hearing about the details of their association the MPs recommended that she apply for a peace order from the state. I accompanied Mom to the courthouse that afternoon only to hear her whine and moan about the process -- "There has to be a trial? I'd have to take off from work? Doesn't this cost money? I don't have time for this!" -- and leave without filing a goddamned thing. "I don't think he'll bother me anymore," she said. "He got in trouble with the MPs today; I think he learned his lesson." That evening, he called two more times to leave messages wailing about how he got a citation and "he doesn't need this."

In fact, the only thing that really convinced Mom to do anything was an urgent call (several, actually) from the guy's neighbor. Since she wasn't answering his calls anymore, AIDSman had taken to calling from pay phones and even from his patient care provider in order to hide from the caller ID and get her to pick up, but apparently he also went to his neighbor and tried to persuade her to call my mother and convince her to talk to him. Instead, the woman called to warn Mom that he is a dangerous individual and that he repeatedly talks about how they are madly in love and that only his HIV keeps them apart. In fact, his love for good ol' Mom is so deep that he also repeatedly talks about catching her alone and harming her and constantly refers to her as the terms above as well as the oh-so-complimentary n-word. He also repeatedly drives by the house -- the neighbor was even with him at one point when he did so -- and memorizes random facts about it such as the number of windows on the garage door. (I have lived in this house for almost twenty years and wouldn't have been able to tell you how many windows the bloody door has off the top of my head until last week.) And he also talks about his shotgun and his hatred of me -- I picked up the phone once and told him to stop bothering us, whereupon he replied, "I'm not bothering anyone... TELL HER TO CALL ME!!!!!!" before hanging up -- hence my fear that something unpleasant was going to happen today.

So after this woman called, Mom finally went ahead and filed for the peace order last week and was granted a temporary one -- with the final hearing on the matter scheduled for today. She asked me to go along as a potential witness, so I went. I wasn't really needed -- to my surprise, AIDSman agreed to the consent order, so it was filed without incident -- but I do wonder how things would have gone if I hadn't been there, as he sat in the courtroom staring directly at my mother the entire time. His only protest was that they go to the same church and it's "a very small church," so contact between them would be more or less inevitable. The judge -- who really seemed like a nice guy -- couldn't do anything about that, but he did tell them to just keep their distance and use their better judgment. I groaned inside at this point, because if either of the parties here had exercised anything resembling better judgment none of this crap would have been necessary.

Seriously, look at this creepy card (if you can't read these images, click them to open larger versions in a new browser tab/window):

Granted, if I got ahold of some weird random animal stamps I might throw a few in cards too (though I'd probably be more likely to draw Dalek armor on the creatures instead of labeling them), but this is some weird shit -- and on top of everything else that the AIDSman did, Mom really has no excuse for not nipping this in the bud ages ago. "Oh, he's harmless." "Oh, he's lonely." "Oh, he was driving past our house" -- yadda yadda on a freaking cul-de-sac -- "because he couldn't sleep." "Oh, calling someone forty times in a single day isn't that big a deal because speed dial makes it so easy." WHAT? I've known that my mother is inexcusably stupid for several years now, but really. Even sitting next to her in the courthouse was extremely trying for me -- despite the explicit request for quiet during the proceedings (a handful of other cases went before hers), she kept muttering aloud to herself. "This is taking too long." "I wish they'd hurry up!" "Why is this taking so long? When can I get out of here?!" "I want to go hooo-ooome!" I mean, I was thinking many of these thoughts as well -- along with several others, like, Goddamnit why won't you shut the hell up?!?! -- but I have the self-control not to voice them aloud in a public courtroom. Being there with Mom was pretty much like sitting next to a four-year-old who really needed to use the restroom.

Anyway, it should all be over now -- but considering that Mom is adamant about continuing to attend the same church, I kinda doubt it. As I've told my mother, infatuation obsession is like an addiction, and a piece of paper is not going to make that go away when the object of one's desires is sitting in plain view several pews over. Again, she says, "Oh, he's learned his lesson," but "don't be a crazy fuck" is not a lesson that you can learn from a piece of paper or an hour of waiting and five minutes on the floor in a county courtroom when sixty-four years of life experience -- yes, dude is old (well, notably older than my mother and significantly older than myself) too! -- have failed to impart that wisdom. My mother certainly hasn't learned her lesson, so why should AIDSman have learned his?

I just hope he doesn't come riding by here with the shotgun one night when he can't sleep. 🙁