He stalked me for 2 years, occasionally calling me at work or on my mobile, which was risky behaviour (but look up psychopath, it’s a common trait).
My rapist only returned one more time.
The timing was beautiful because I was really into my yoga at the time and I’d just completed a really awesome practice at home.
I’d moved back to Leeds but changed my phone number and gone ex-directory. Basic, normal steps to protect myself – from my rapist. He called me on my landline about a week after I’d moved back. And I thought, oh you fucking what? How is this even happening?
I’d barely even had the chance to tell people I’d moved back to Leeds let alone given out my number. I asked where he’d got my ex-directory number but he didn’t answer.
He said he HAD TO meet me. I said no you really don’t.
He said “I absolutely have to see you – because my Dad died!”
Me: short pause for dilemma.
The dilemma was I felt that morally I should speak about this. But I was desperate not to have him in my life anymore. He deserved no sympathy from me and besides, I recalled how he’d never been warm towards his Dad at all. No, it wouldn’t be a good idea to speak to him.
I said I thought he should find someone else to talk to.
He protested, saying “but I’m nearby, I want to meet you”. I said what do you mean nearby, where are you?
He said look out of your window.
And there he was, the weirdo creep, grinning at me from the bottom of my garden, waving like a psychopath.
Grinning! Grinning! He’d just said his Dad had died. My skin crawled.
The next episode will sound strange and I can’t explain the level of fortune, other than I must have had someone watching over me.
I allowed him into the house (bizarre, and stupid, I know, but somehow I got the sense that I was in control this time, not him) and he sat down and talked about how awful it was that his dad died.
But throughout the whole thing, there wasn’t a trace of emotion in him. Not a flicker. So I mirrored him. I did something called the grey rock technique where you make yourself as uninteresting and unemotional as possible, not a single flicker of emotion crossed my face, not once. I only learned about grey rock in 2016, but I did it that day back in 2003.
I knew something. The reason he needed to speak to ME right at that moment was because he needed to copy and mirror my emotions but what I gave him back was a reflection of his.
His issue was he didn’t feel anything (some say the definition of a psychopath is the absence of a soul) but how to act when you lose a close family member? Uh-oh, better ask someone who knows, eh?
So when he needed to copy real emotions – he turned to me. He needed a connection with someone who had experienced the loss of their father. Hence why he’d stationed himself at my house.
I grey rocked him. I spoke, but only to confirm that the events he spoke of were quite normal.
Yes indeed, you choose a coffin. Yes, you choose flowers. Been there, done it. You choose a plot. I know, I know. My inference was, what the hell are you even doing here? Why don’t you tell it to someone who gives a shit?
It worked. Because after exchanging a few angry words with my white cat who had sat on his tailored black wool jacket (ha-ha-ha), he promptly got up to leave and I never saw him again.
In 2013 when he contacted me via LinkedIn I found out that he worked for Experian for the 2 years that he stalked me, which explained how he’d managed to get hold of my ex-directory phone numbers and addresses despite me making efforts to keep moving away from him. It also explains why he couldn’t contact me after he’d left Experian. Again, it was all just abuse of power and control. It all added up. No one else was involved. It was all him and his advanced stalking methods and malicious lies. Well done credit reference checking agency for employing my rapist. Doesn’t it just make you wonder how many more abusers run amock in our big corporates? It does me!