A curious case of internet foibles and troubles has been following me on the screen. Please, all come a little closer to the screen again. Intimate revelations might be exposed. I can’t or don’t want to be responsible for a quickening of pulses or worse, unguarded moments of spontaneity in nether regions causing complete wardrobe malfunctions.
Over the last year or so a person of either sex has been following me on those blogs where I sometimes like to dwell and make dubious comments. The blogs are mainly of a social commentary genre. Only fools frequent those kind of pages. But, there you have it. My dad was right; “just stick to your meccano set or help your mum wash up”, was his sage advice. I failed, dear daddy.
Of course, anyone responding to what you have written on any blog is a resounding affirmation that something has been said that is either liked or disliked. Any response is better than nothing. At the beginning of my blogging career I was even thrilled to get spams, some of which offered free piano tuning or trial doses of increasing sexual desire levels.( of either sex)
In my bachelor days I used to live off Spam for days. I loved the challenge of opening the can without breaking that little key that had to be slowly turned to open the lid. It needed patience. If you turned it too quickly, the key would break and one then needed a hammer and chisel. I still remember the lovely smell, sitting on my single bed, scooping it all out. I used a small spoon so it would last longer.
But back to my lament about the stalker, he/she seems to get some weird thrill out of trying to unsettle me. “Well, there might be some logical reason for that,” my H could well retort.
How anyone can get their rocks off on my social blogs’ pleadings for ‘Salvation Army soup for the unemployed’ or ‘subsidised walking frames for the over 75’ is puzzling. Still, I have to consider all possibilities. What people find fascinating, no matter how mind-boggling to me, could well send others in a frenzy of excitement with strange expectations.
It calls for tolerance. Some claim this alone has its own reward. In any case, the responses does seem to give the stalker the oxygen they crave. The incursions are not that serious but even mosquito bites can be irritating. It pays to have a spray can handy!
He/she seems to often change their aliases but I recognize the style of writing and even though moderators have sometimes been alerted, often it is too late and the quirky but irritating rants are allowed to remain. On my own Oosterman Treat Blog it is no problem. The response gets wiped as quick as it takes to push the delete button.
He/she/it is not someone that I know but I have come to the startling and possibly deluded conclusion, that it might be a case of a ‘love’ troll.
Surely not? At my age, could that still happen? Do they get hopelessly smitten? Is it my gravitas, giving the angle of my nose, the tilt of the affirmative chin or my distant look, hinting at generous promises with ripe fulfilment?
Sadly, if this is the case ( or any case), it must remain unrequited. He has already been taken. No number of overexcited internet trolls will be able to unhinge me. It will not ever be reciprocated. This love is doomed.
I have told her/him to be gone not to darken my well scrubbed doorstep again. I am curious if this phenomenon is rare or is it just a case of; expose yourself and you run this risk in a world of demented, frustrated souls, waiting to pounce on unsuspected bloggers. Is theirs a hope for the blogger to become totally unhinged by their persistent obsessive statements? Do they relish the chance of a mental cave-in, or… do they expect a marriage proposal? Do they live solely off the joy of an outburst of anger . Who would know?