Member-only story
DATING | OBSESSION | STALKER
My Encounter with a Stalker
It doesn’t just happen on Netflix
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I sat alone at the bar, twirling the straw in my vodka soda as if contemplating a Scrabble move. It was 2010. Mobile phones weren’t an extension of our hands back then. People noticed things and made eye contact in public places. The scrutiny made me uncomfortable, even though it was scrutiny I sought.
Was it a book or a movie? Probably a Sex and the City episode in retrospect. The idea of the classic pick-up and the kind of man you want to attract. Dress like you’re expensive, as if you have a clue about every item in Louis Vuitton’s latest Collection, even if you don’t. I didn’t. I couldn’t afford to waste money on the glossy magazines filled with those collections, let alone buy them.
My gay friends would educate me. They could spot a fake a mile away. Vintage was my best shot at an unsuspecting audience. No straight man with an eye for fashion would know I was a fake in vintage. It wasn’t popular then. This was Sydney, Australia, after all. Things are slower down under. It used to take us a while to catch up to the rest of the fashion world — and everything else. Lucky me.
