"The Scaredy-cat Stalker" is a little print zine that I started way back in 1995. It originally began as an outlet for all my Henry Thomas mania. I had it bad, and still do to a lesser degree. You know how it goes. Every relationship has its ups and downs. There are the lovesick days as well as the hate-filled ones. But this isn't the time and place for my Lone Star Thomas ramblings. You can get your fill elsewhere.

Back in the day

Take a gander at my (slightly cleaned-up) original 1995 get-to-know-me intro.

Hi! Welcome to the premiere issue of "The Scaredy-cat Stalker". It seems like every April I come down with a severe case of spring fever resulting in some sick obsession with an unsuspecting soul. This year is no exception. Sometimes I find myself appalled at my own behavior. I always figured that at some point in my life I'd grow out of it. And believe me, I've been trying with all my might to resist the cheap kicks I get from becoming sweet on strangers.

Don't get me wrong, Robert Bardo, I'm not. We're talking scaredy-cats, not sociopaths. Besides, at least I'm aware of my behavior, and even more importantly, I'm currently firearm free. You shouldn't worry, technically I'm not an "obsessive stalker". They are those boring jealous ex types, and we won't concern ourselves with them here. Erotomaniacs are the folks who are infatuated with celebrities and strangers, and make up a mere 20% of all stalkers. However, 80% of erotomanics are supposedly mentally ill. I'd like to think that I'm a member of the stable faction, but who's to say?

The nice thing about scaredy-cats is that they're generally harmless. Nuisances? Possibly. But life-threateners? Never. Their satisfaction comes from sneakily finding out so much information about an individual that any and all possibilities of a normal friendship are forever ruined. If by some mad twist of fate, a scaredy-cat even "caught" the object of their obsession, they wouldn't even know what to do.

Admittedly, I enjoy stalking. I mean, who wants a real relationship when you can go around chasing strangers? But the downside is that these inept escapades rarely end in a happy manner and I'm getting tired of frightening away nice people. I have a feeling that the stranger I'm presently sweet on already thinks I'm a freak, which is too bad because sometimes I'm actually a pretty pleasant gal. I'm worried because during the past few weeks I've developed a nervous tic and I think I'm on the verge of a peptic ulcer. I guess these are good indications that I oughta lay off the friendly stalking for a while. So out of the concern for the safety of others and my own failing health, I'm going to try and forget about the ordinary folk and stick to the matter of celebrity stalking in this issue. I realize that the odds of one of my stalkees catching wind of this little publication are minutely slim, but believe me, stranger things have happened.

That was then. This is now.

Well, it seems like a lot has changed since then. No, stalking still doesn't solve problems. And yes, it still gets me in heaps of trouble. Over the years my philosophy has mutated a little. It could have something to do with writing about it so much, but I'm not the same scaredy-cat I used to be. Essentially I'm still a skittish, kind-hearted soul, looking for recognition. But somewhere along the line I developed a mean streak. Maybe that's not the right term. Trouble-maker is more like it. Instead of dwelling, hunting, and stalking, now I pounce, or at least I try to. Where I used to pine away and moon over that whole "not knowing what to do with them if I actually caught them" stuff, now I'm more likely to take action.

But of course, in my typical misguided fashion, it's action in all the wrong ways. The sad thing is that I have no control over it. I used to not be able to help but work behind the scenes and now I can't help but make scenes. I've said horrible things and acted in ways unbecoming of a scaredy-cat (I'm talking about becoming physically violent and getting it on with attached guys just for the sake of being a homewrecker). I'm not defending this behavior, but at some point I think I was pushed to my limit. You know, a girl can only hear, "I'm flattered, but..." so many times before she loses it. It's easy to dismiss a passive admirer, but there's no way they can ignore a shit-stirrer (pardon the expression). And if they do, they know there's going to be hell to pay.

I've always had a nasty streak, but I used to keep it in check a little better. A friend once described me to another who hadn't met me as, "the meanest person I know, but she has a good heart". It's true and it can make life difficult. I've always been attracted to sissies, dorks, femmes, mamma's boys, what have you. This poses a dilemma because they're generally not attracted to me. We're both essentially soft and probably have a good deal in common, but we don't get along so well. With time I grow annoyed at their sensitive ways and easily hurt feelings. But "bad boys" absolutely hold no appeal for me. Who needs an uncouth brute with no redeeming qualities? I'm a lady, dammit. So right now I'm at a crossroads. There's no denying that I'm still a scaredy-cat stalker through and through. Now I'm just a wary, jaded version looking for my next er, victim. If there are any takers out there, don't be afraid to speak up.

*Disclaimer: This section hasn't changed much since the late '90s, and isn't likely to. I think of it as an online "Scaredy-cat Stalker" library...maybe you will too.

phone home *  stalking * lone star thomas * project me * goodies  *  mail me