vegan stalker

i think i have a stalker at work.

i think i have a stalker, he’s mid-forties, reminds me of my dad a little, not in the good way, in the way that he’s kind of uncool and clearly too old to be hitting on me. he bonded over the fact we are both vegan. he told me he had a daughter with the same name as mine. she' is nine-years-old. that made me feel weird.

while offering me comfort, he told me how beautiful i looked when he saw me crying. he used this opportunity to ask me if i knew of any good vegan places in the city, i recommended some. he asked me if i wanted to get some food with him when i finished my shift. i politely declined. eventually, he left. and two hours later he was there when i finished, just so conveniently walking by my work when i was closing up, despite all the other shops having been shut for an hour. he told me what a coincidence it was. i politely acknowledged him as i passed him. laughed nervously while i picked up my pace to the bus stop, checking over my shoulder now and then.

he comes in from time to time. i try not to take his order anymore, (americano with oat milk). i don’t smile. i keep my back turned while my colleague makes his coffee. he asks me why i am not as chirpy as usual. i think to myself, because you took my kindness for interest. i tell him it’s because i am tired. i reply with my back turned still.

the last time i took his order, he got it in a to-go cup and sat himself right in view of the bar, keeping a close eye. i went out to get a snack from the shop next door, when i left, he was outside of the shop waiting for me, oat americano in hand. he stopped me in the street, asked me if i was into sports, if i’d like to go rock climbing with him sometime. i muttered an unsure answer and excused myself back to the cafe, using my colleague’s urgency as a justification.

i lament about men like him. how disgusted it makes me feel when men mistake my outgoing nature as interest. that i as a less-than-20-something would be interested in his romantic pursual of myself. it fuels my hatred.

but is it all just in my head? am i so self-centred that i think everyone’s obsessed with me? perhaps. have i considered that maybe he’s completely normal and its just my brain creating scenarios where i am constantly the object of some fucked-up voyeuristic situtation? of course.

my dad says he probably just fancies me a little, thinks he has a chance because i was nice to him. i wonder to myself if thats how mens brains really work. my mum tells me i don’t owe him anything if he makes me uncomfortable. i still feel like i do. i feel like i owe everyone a pretty smile and my full attention. i feel guilty when i don’t perform. i feel unkind.

he came in today, i didn’t smile. i didn’t face him, i felt too guilty to look into his eyes. i know he’ll come in again tomorrow.

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