When I watched this much-discussed video of a random brunette lady stealthily taping an angelically slumbering Justin Bieber in Brazil, I laughed. And then I cringed. And then I shuddered so hard I almost spilled my coffee on my lap.
It's just so … embarrassing, you know? God knows who she is (Internetters are speculating that she was a prostitute, but whatevs, nobody cares), or what went down between her and the practically pre-pubescent pop star, but again, who cares? Even if they did get busy the night before (and uhhh, of course they did), videotaping him sleeping is just ... creepy and invasive.
Not that I'm above being invasive and creepy myself -- hi, I'm human, and I'm prone to obsessive thinking and intensive ruminating and constantly expecting the worst (i.e. JUST KNOWING, IN MY GUT, that I'll find a thong in his bed, or a random number in his pocket, or his OKCupid profile secretly turned back on). I asked a couple of xo staffers for their creepy confessions, too, and surprisingly, they didn't really have any! Hannah said, "I don't even like looking at the Facebook page of the person I'm dating ... I just feel weird looking at photos of them or things they're typing when I could just look at their actual face/talk to them in person."
Daisy offered, "If you want to know creepy things people who've dated me have done ... We could start with the guy who taped a poem to my apartment building front door every day for a week. Or the guy who figured out my VM passcode and called and deleted all messages from other dudes."
Eek! Anyhow, here's a partial list of the creepy shit I and I alone have done in the name of love (or obsession). I must preface by noting that, other than the occasional Facebook stalking session, I haven't done THAT much by way of creeping as, like, an actual adult. Yay me!
- In fifth grade, my best friend and I would show up unannounced at the house of this guy we both had a crush on. (Handily, he lived right up the street from me.) Neither of us went to school with him (we just saw him around my neighborhood) but we took it upon ourselves to insist that dammit, HE WOULD KNOW OUR NAMES!!!11!! So we prank-called him with abandon before escalating that shit and deciding to randomly start stopping by his house to say ... uh, nothing much. WE WERE STRANGERS, so he did not react particularly well to this. (To be fair, he didn't really react at all; he just kind of hovered in the doorway and stared at us blankly, a slight veil of fear reflected in his adorbs blue eyes. Oh, Sean.)
- At summer camp when I was 14-ish, my girl friends and I all had group crushes on the same guy. Guys, rather -- there were multiples. (OK, what was up with the group crush? That was such a Thing!) One of the lucky bastards on the receiving end of our silent stalking was named Jonas. He was a pale hippie with glossy, shoulder-grazing, perfectly straight brown hair. (I was all about the patchouli then.) We memorized his schedule and took to hiding in the trees beside the lake to catch him blowing his whistle during free swim at the lake every day. He was SO PAINFULLY CUTE in his pink-and-green striped swim trunks; I vividly remember a heated whispered conversation wherein we discussed our fervent desire to lick the sweat off his back. Sexy!
- This isn't exactly something I did to a guy I dated -- it's something I did to a woman who dated my ex. In my mid-twenties, a friend of a friend, Joanna, began dating my ex (who I worked with). I’d only dated him for a few weeks, but I'd been falling for him, so when he dumped me for this Joanna bitch, I was pretty heart-broken. I was even MORE upset when Joanna started leaving comments all over my LiveJournal and trying to befriend my friends. She was practically stalking me! So I created a new LiveJournal persona and befriended her with that, leaving comments on her blog and obsessively poring over her posts for mentions of her happy new life with my ex. This served absolutely no purpose other than to make me miserable, BTW.
- I once set up a fake Twitter account (under the name and image of a cute boy) to flirt with myself in an ill-advised attempt to make the guy I liked jealous. And it actually worked -- a little too well, in fact. Maybe I'll tell you that story later if you ask me nicely. Now you tell me YOUR stories of unabashed romantic creepery! GO.