My First Love Stalked Me

Another story in my Tough Cookie life is about how my first love stalked me. The stalker of this true story is Spyboots. Some synonyms for stalker are narcissist, ego-maniac, sneak, lurker, prowler, harasser, persecutor, or cold-hearted snake. A stalker is a person who pursues someone obsessively, monitors their victim’s daily activities, and follows them to the point of harassment.

Eighty-seven percent of stalkers are men. Women tend to be victimized by lone male stalkers whom they know. Men are more likely to be stalked by strangers. Most stalkers are intelligent and they carefully plan their stalking behavior. Most lack social and communication skills and the ability to reason and engage appropriately with others.

Sometimes the most innocent of meetings have the scariest outcomes and lingering consequences.

I have changed the real names to protect privacy.

How We Met

I was a sophomore in high school. One of the assignments was to choose a classmate to complete a science project together. Tilly (my classmate) approached me and invited me to her house to have dinner and discuss the project. I enjoyed getting to know Tilly better and meeting her mom, dad, and older brother during dinner.

The next day at school, Tilly told me that her brother wanted to know if it would be okay to call me. He was Hispanic handsome with dark brown hair and eyes, and charming too. At dinner the night before, I learned he was in private school and wanted to be a chemist. Upon adding intelligence and ambition to the plus column, I said yes.

If you read Generational Trauma Entrepreneur, you know I only had Friday evenings open for free time and fun with my friends. Spyboots (Tilly’s older brother) and I began dating. He said he was 18. One of our earliest dates was an invitation to his prom. I was determined to continue to hang out with my girlfriends and have time for him.

I dated some nice guys but was never in an exclusive relationship. Spyboots and I did the usual things like movies, bowling, fast food meals together, and long talks on the phone. During our calls, even though I was in the basement with the door closed, I still remember my mom with sonar for hearing screaming, “It’s late. Get off the phone and get to sleep!”

The Stalking Begins

In the beginning, our time together was limited but fun and romantic. During one fateful date, while we were at the drive-in movies, Spyboots asked me out for the following Friday. I told him I already had plans with my girlfriends, and he got ticked. The non-charming side of his personality made itself known for the first time. He could not control his anger and shoved me into the metal speaker hanging on the inside of the window. I immediately told him to take me home. What a silent ride that was. That uncalled-for temper tantrum would have been the last date for girls and women with good self-esteem.

The following morning, I had a huge black and blue mark on my right cheek. My mom was already up and told me she found a beautiful bouquet of flowers on the front porch with a card from Spyboots. I took the flowers from her and hid that part of my face from her by using my hair and a towel. Then I rushed back to my room. What should I do? What could I do? Why is this happening? What if I tell my parents?

Please keep in mind that the trauma and drama of my childhood did not teach me what a healthy relationship feels like. I had been made to feel less than and hit many times over the years. Our family meetings to solve problems usually ended up in a screaming match or watching in sadness while my mom stabbed my dad with a fork or some other angry actions. There was never any guidance from either of my parents about any issue. That is probably why I accepted Spyboots’ apology and said I would see him again. I considered him my first love and thought we would be able to work things out.

Since I couldn’t get to my homework until I returned home after work each night, I was always up until midnight or longer. My bedroom, where I also studied, was upstairs. I began noticing a male figure walking back and forth on the sidewalk that bordered the empty lot and street. That area was dimly lit, but in my gut, I thought it could be Spyboots.

I put it on my nightly agenda to keep my bedroom blinds pulled down and sneak a peek now and again for activity on the sidewalk. After a couple of sightings, I saw no more spy activity.

I guess Spyboots decided he was too visible on the sidewalk, and people passing by might report his suspicious activity to the police. One night my sister and I were doing homework on the enclosed back porch. Our parents were not home. We were chatting when we saw Spyboots’ face pressed against the window staring at us. We screamed in harmony-not expecting to see us when he first looked in shocked him as much as it did us, so he took off.

The Restraining Order

Deb and I were shook and decided to tell Mom and Dad about the stalking trespasser. Dad was hot under the collar when he heard our story. Since we were minors then, he went to the police station the next day to make a formal report and apply for a Restraining Order, also known as a Protection Order, with the court. The legal purpose is to keep stalkers away from their victims or would-be victims.

In my viewpoint, Spyboots did not trust that I was in school daily, followed by my work schedule, then at home in my room doing homework for the rest of the evening. On the Fridays, when I was hanging out with my girlfriends, I think he thought I was cheating on him. God only knows how many times he successfully stalked me without my knowledge.

The Break Up

One of my friends from high school knew Spyboots and I broke up. She thought a friend of hers might be a good match. Ariel (my classmate and friend) arranged for a double date. I was excited to be going out and meeting someone new. I drove to my friend’s house, where we agreed to meet, and Ariel’s date would drive the four of us from there. Perhaps it should have been for five. When I got out of my car and Ariel introduced me to my date for the evening, I noticed Spyboots in his car parked a short distance away and let everyone know.

We jumped into the escape vehicle and watched Spyboots running towards the car. My friend’s date accidentally hit the mailbox while backing out of the driveway. Since Spyboots had to run back to his car to follow us, we thought we could lose him. Right about now are you hearing the Mission Impossible Theme playing?

On the way to the movie theatre, I watched from the back window for 007’s car and apologized for spoiling everyone’s evening. My companions were kind and understanding. It was comforting to be around gentlemen and my caring friend. I felt confident we got away, and there was no way the stalker could know what show we were going to.

Wrong. About 15 minutes after the movie started, I saw a figure to my right standing at the end of the row where the four of us were sitting. It was Spyboots! He was leaning against the wall and just glaring at me. This time I said nothing. Eventually, the usher asked him to leave.

At the end of the evening, my date, who I wanted to get to know better, walked me to the door and hugged me. He was a gentleman. I knew I would never see him again because of the drama with Spyboots. I couldn’t blame him. I found out that evening that pieces of paper with Restraining or Protection Order on them mean nothing to a stalker.

I went to my senior prom with another guy. I was weary of being prey for another person in my life with unrecognized mental health issues. Once our doomed love affair reached this toxic level, Spyboots was gone.

Letter From Nam

A few months later, I received a letter from him. He had been drafted into the Viet Nam War. He just wanted to let me know and hoped I could forgive him for his reckless behavior. I chose to answer his letter as a friend, and we exchanged a few notes over the 18 months he was in the war.

My dad passed away during Spyboots’ military service. The Order of Protection had expired. Now that I was an adult, I legally made my own decisions. When Spyboots returned, he called and wanted to see me. I was grateful he survived the war and made it home. Everything else I was unsure about.

Second Time Around Detour Signs

There were some detour signs on the Highway of Love The Second Time Around. One afternoon we were hanging out. Spyboots stopped at a convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes. I noticed he left his wallet on the dashboard and a letter that needed to be mailed. I always suspected that he lied about his age, so I took the opportunity to check his driver’s license. I was right. He was not two years older than me; he was six years older.

Then I checked the unmailed letter. The return address label was from a close high school friend of mine. HMMM, time for investigation. When he returned to the car, I kept my mouth shut and prayed a vein would not burst.

• DETOUR-MY BUDDY FROM NAM WAS IN A BAD CRASH IN MICHIGAN. I AM DRIVING THERE TO SEE HIM. SORRY I HAVE TO CANCEL OUR HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY PLANS.
• DETOUR-MY GRANDMOTHER IS EXTREMELY ILL AND I AM FLYING TO MEXICO TO BE BY HER SIDE. HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR XMAS GIFT. I WILL CALL YOU AS SOON AS I RETURN.
• DETOUR-I CAN NEVER HAVE CHILDREN. ONE OF MY TESTICLES WAS BLOWN APART DURING VIET NAM. I HOPE YOU WILL BE OKAY WITH NOT HAVING CHILDREN SHOULD WE MARRY.

I started putting the puzzle together. Spyboots had divided up the holidays between two women. One got Valentine’s Day and Christmas. The other got New Year’s Eve, Easter, and Thanksgiving. Clever, eh?

The Accountability Plan

Since I hadn’t talked with Lani (high school close friend on the unmailed letter) recently, I decided to give her a call to share the results of my investigation. I told her I suspected we were dating, and perhaps even considering getting engaged, to the same guy. I confessed that on Christmas Eve, I drove by her house. Spyboots’ car was parked in front. I told Lani that he told me he had to rush to Mexico because his grandmother was seriously ill and hoped I liked his Christmas present. She was shocked that Spyboots was playing her the same way. So, we came up with our Accountability Plan.

Spyboots invited me to a Saturday evening concert and dinner after the event. The whole time I talked about getting married and how wonderful that would be someday. He was holding my hand and talking about what a lucky guy he was. Little did he know that soon he would be Dead Lucky Guy Walking. We arrived at the restaurant in great spirits. I ordered lobster tail and steak with all the fixings. After our orders were taken, I excused myself to go to the Ladies’ Room where I summoned my Accountability Associate. Lani arrived about ten minutes later. I remember profuse beads of sweat streaming from Spyboots’ brow when he saw her unhappy mug walking his way. I had him wedged in the booth so he could not leave. We simply asked him why he was deceiving both of us. BUSTED!

In his hyperventilation, the fierce coward retreated from the restaurant but had the decency to pay the check. Lani and I stayed, split the delicious meal, and tried to process the deceit of the person we both loved.

The next day, you guessed it, Spyboots came by and said he really wanted to have a future with me. I imagine he also went to Lani’s house and said he really wanted to be with her. I have no idea whose house he went to first. I told him I needed to trust the person I chose to spend my life with and wanted that person to also trust me. I needed to be with someone who made me feel good about myself.

My Decision

It was a definite no from me but a yes from Lani.

I felt relieved and thought the stalking craziness was finally over. Several months had gone by without any Spyboots problems. I changed jobs and found a rental on the second floor of a single-family residence. I could afford the rent without a roommate, and it would be less driving to and from work. The landlords, who were an older couple, lived below. Russ (a male friend) helped me haul my stuff and set up furniture in my new home.

I was so happy-at least for about one month.

The Break In And Fist Fight

One night while taking out the trash, I heard a male voice whisper, “I am watching you.” I couldn’t see anybody, so I hurried up the steps and called Russ.

Russ calmed me down and checked on me after work the next day. He and I were on the couch talking when there was a knock on the door. I thought it was the landlords, but when I opened the door, it was Spyboots! He pushed me aside and went straight for my friend. That was a gigantic mistake. Russ protected himself and me by beating the crap out of the highly unwelcomed intruder stalker. Spyboots realized he was losing and fled the crime scene. Russ yelled, “Never come back and leave Marilyn alone!” We both feared the stalker would return as soon as he saw Russ leave. So Russ spent the night on the couch to make sure I was safe.

Never had I witnessed two men fight in real-time. It terrified and traumatized me. I debated whether I should file a police report right away but was emotionally drained and not in my right mind. He had Lani. Why did he persist on ruining my life?

Landlords Tell Me To Leave

The next morning the landlords requested I leave immediately. I took that as my answer. Once again, through no fault of my own, the stalker won. I had no idea that he was still secretly following me. Would I ever be free of his problematic behavior and mental health issues? If Russ hadn’t been there, would Spyboots have seriously harmed or killed me?

Down the road, I found out that Lani and Spyboots wed and had twins. See DETOUR I CAN NEVER HAVE CHILDREN above. After Spyboots got beat up by Russ and I got thrown out of my apartment, that was the last time he stalked me-as far as I know. The stalking lasted almost four years.

I was fortunate. Sadly, as we know by watching crime documentary shows, police departments consistently fail to enforce Restraining or Protective Orders, which sometimes results in fatalities-usually women and possibly their children.

Important Resource

The United States Department of Justice has a vast amount of information you can search about stalking and other misdemeanor and felony situations.

Tough Cookie Tip: Possession is not love. Love is peace, positive feelings, and equal partnership in a loving relationship. Parents who model healthy relationships give their children the best chance for success. Teach your daughters and sons to understand the difference between love and infatuation. Love takes time to grow and endures through the ups and downs of life. Infatuation is that exciting, short-lived feeling of butterflies and can’t eat or sleep feelings. Save yourself by being informed.

Copyright © 2022-2025 Marilyn K Fuller. All Rights Reserved.

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