My Stalker Part 17: Meh.

I really am beginning to feel like a trapped animal during the work day. I am still squirreled away inside, in my suite of offices most of the day. And the brutally cold weather is kind of fortifying that as a habit for a while. But there comes a breaking point where I need to stretch my legs or get sunshine on my face and fresh (BRACINGLY COLD) air in my lungs. And today was such a day.

So my normal excuse to get out is to walk to the dollar store for zip lock bags or mailing supplies and a Snapple. And of course, returning into the building means I am walking past the front desk where the Haitian doorman is. 

And while I have broken him of his insistence on asking me the same question over and over again, about whether I regret not having kids, I thought I had broken him of asking me the double whammy of "would you ever cheat on your husband?" I've politely danced around this question in the past and thought I finally killed it as a conversational topic, and today I went in for the kill and flat out told Jean it's none of his fucking business, and that I'm not married to him, so I don't understand the curiosity. 

And though we laughed about it, I did, in fact, call him out for this. It's a rude question, and the constant asking (he has asked it in an assortment of ways in the past year, and I'm tired of it. No. I'm BORED with it. It's tedious, and it's none of his fucking business.)

And the topic came back to the Stalker. And how I'm killing him by cutting him off. And I let Jean know about the forced interaction roughly nine days ago at the elevator, and how I know that the Stalker is still... STALKING me because of his choice to meet me at that particular elevator instead of taking the freight elevator which is his norm, and which was more convenient for him to take.

Point blank, I told Jean, that I know that the problem that Jean and the Stalker have with me is they are not used to a woman who is staunch, who has a fairly decent sense of self and self worth. And to be honest, neither of them are married to me, fucking me, nor paying my bills, so who ARE THEY to me, anyway? We are here because of work, not as a social networking group. And I'm pretty much DONE with some charming sociopath (Stalker) manipulating the truth and half truths to Jean to paint a picture of me as some sort of reactionary bitch. HE is the one who made something that was mutually pleasant into something that was singularly UNPLEASANT for me. End. Of. Story.

In the course of laughing, I looked at Jean and told him that bit about a Churchill quote, "The height of diplomacy is to tell someone to go to hell in such a way, they look forward to the trip." I said, "See, you're laughing, and I don't think you realize I just called out your rudeness and told you it's none of your fucking business," which of course, elicited more laughter. But point was received. And hopefully in the future, this question will be struck from Jean's conversational repertoire.  It really is none of his business. And it really IS tedious as fuck.  And really? I'm tired of being hit on by little boys, and really really tired of unsophisticated Third Worlders (friends and/or family) expecting or demanding that they know every little detail of my life.  Not every topic is open for discussion.