I have a creepy stalker story
Several years ago I worked for a Rock Radio station. I would do promotions 7 nights a week. Get on Mic, through out shirts, do games, shit like that. I met thousands of people and hundreds of venues. I used my real name, never my last though.
So for about 2 weeks I would receive random incoherent messages on my answering machine @ home from some guy asking something along the lines of if his wife was there. She wasn't. So one day I get a message on the voicemail at work and he goes on to say that he knows I am banging his wife and that we need to have a "talk." I am still clueless to who this person could be, I wasn't seeing anyone at the time. He goes on to say "You live at 401 Sunset Ave, its the big white house on the corner across from the lake." You get home at around 5pm I will be there at 5:15."
Yeah, he had gotten my address, had visited my house, followed me around and knew my work schedule.
So I call the cops and they tell me to go to the station before I go home (they couldn't justs send someone out) so that an officer could follow me. I did not trust this guy, I can handle an *** beating but he didn't sound right, I was afraid I'd be stabbed or shot.
So I leave work and pull into a convenience store right across the street from my office to get a pack of smokes. I come out and a guy is standing next to my car. He asks if I am Keith and I say yes and he tells me his name. It was the crazy guy (adorn in aqua sweatpants and I think a members only jacket) I clenched my fists and readied myself.
He then says, "I think I might have the wrong guy, you don't look like the type that would be fooling around with my wife"
He tells me how his wife is a crack head (literally) and said she has been cheating on him with her dealer and a guy named Keith at the radio station (I guess my name was the first thing to popped into her rotted brain after a night of boozing). Apparently she said that to **** off her husband. We chatted a little more then went our separate ways.
Yep, all the crack heads want my junk.