I'll Save You!!! The Stalker who wanted to protect me from other stalkers....

Stalker Alert Level: Dark Orange

Hilarity Level: Dark Humor

IT WAS POURING DOWN RAIN and I thought it would still be nice to walk home from the metro rather than waiting a half an hour for the bus which would take me the distance of a twenty minute walk. I'm one of those strange breeds that runs out the door for rain. I love rain and prefer not using an umbrella, granted I have nowhere important to go.

It is dark.

As I walk, a few men slow their cars or flash their lights. Men who walk past me sometimes give a sideways glance or look at me as though they are about to say something, but can't bring themselves to.

Then the boldest of them all (for this day) shows up. For some reason, the short guys have absolutely no fear with me. This little bald guy comes trotting along and tells me that I shouldn't be walking alone at night.

I don't look at him or acknowledge him, only walk a bit faster.

"What is your name?" he asks right away.

I don't answer. I don't look at him. I'm trying to be obviously disinterested.

He asks again. "What is your name?"

"Dasha," I lie.

"Where are you from?"

"America. Are you walking with me? Why?" Why do I tell him this much information? Why did I just admit that I'm foreign which could thereby lead him to think naive in this land? Because I want him to know that he cannot predict my behavior or intentions. And Americans have a reputation, really. At least, I am prepared to create a reputation with this guy to help out the next American woman he thinks of harassing. I'm not really afraid of him, that's the thing. I want him to go away, but he already knows I'm not Turkish just by the way I walk and the fact that I'm walking in the rain alone at night without an umbrella, wearing bright red jeans and a black leather jacket. And, not to mention, answering one question doesn't mean I deserve or am inviting anyone to stalk me, which he is about to do full blown. I know in Turkey sometimes it does, but sometimes I don't care what it means. I want to exercise a level of human interaction that I was brought up on, at least until I've no choice but to fight back.

"You shouldn't be walking alone," he says.

"Why?"

"Because it's dangerous."

"Oh, you mean some guy might start to walk with me and talk to me?"

"Yes."

"Like you are doing?"

"I like America. Do you live here?"

I take a deep breath. I still haven't looked at him, and my answers are all kurt, firm, and have that ring as though each one is supposed to end the subject, close the door, or more like slam it in his face. That kind of pleasant tone, if you can imagine it.

I don't answer that question. Of course, he asks again. I still don't answer.

He walks alongside me for another 5 straight minutes with me completely ignoring him, still not looking at him. I even deliberately try to walk in the middle of the sidewalk to force him off. I know these are brutal tactics, but what would you do? I just want a nice walk home in the rain! And, to be honest, I am having a HORRIBLE day. It is one of those days when it takes every bit of willpower not to scream in someone's face, anyone's face. I am so angry and tormented by something which recently happened, and I need to be alone very far from all humans for a little while. This guy has the worst timing. So, I know semi-pushing him off the pavement is rude, but he is gnawing on my very last nerve.

Finally, I blurt out, "Yes, I'm going home. And I want to walk alone. Alone! Please, leave me alone!"

"Where do you live?" he asks.

"I'm not going tell you that! Are you joking? Go away. I want to walk alone."

"But it's really dangerous to walk alone at night. If I am walking with you, no men will disturb you."

"But YOU are disturbing me, so go away!"

"No, but I won't hurt you. Maybe other men will. I will just walk you to your house and then I will go home."

Oh, yeah, heard that one before. And let's just survey his personality type. I've ignored him, tried to push him off the sidewalk, and demanded that he leave me alone. And now he expects me to believe that he's going to just "go home" after he stalks me all the way home? I know you already picked up on the obviousness of it. I'm just venting.

"No!" I say firmly. "Go away!"

"I'm just protecting you."

"I can protect myself."

"But you need a man."

"I don't need anything."

I start to walk even faster and try ignoring him again. This is all while trying to tame the inner hurricane that has been plaguing my emotions since long before this guy came along. I feel that in another world somewhere, I could have lifted him up with my bare hands and hurled him into oncoming traffic. That's how upset I already was before he showed up. It is that kind of day, the kind that unfortunately happens to us maybe once per year, but hopefully less. I am honestly trembling, and now here's Mr. Bald Midget to save the day.

After about 5 more minutes of silence, I'm getting too close to my home, so it's time to lose him for real. There is no more time to waste. He has to go. I stop at a location far enough away from my neighborhood and get ready for the war.

"Go," I say bluntly. He doesn't know it, but this is my moment when I am saying it only so that I can later explain to the press, "Well, he had his chance."

You may judge me for this. So be it. If you live in Istanbul, likely you'll understand. If not, I will sound brutal. But to be safe here, you have to be really mean sometimes. There's no diplomatic way around a situation like this, even though you may think from afar that there must have been another way. You really cannot fully understand until it happens how serious it is, and you simply cannot negotiate your way out of some situations. It's a matter of the other person's will at some point, not your ability to word something or sound convincing. If the other person is culturally ingrained, raised, and socially constructed since birth to be the very thing in front of you in a moment like this, what are the chances that a few of your western mediation tactics are going to penetrate such an engraving within the few minutes you have? There's a choice. End it. Or don't. I've adapted to this culture, and I know how to end it. This is how.

When I turn to face him for the first and last time, I look him square in the face. Then, in a rage of pure English (because it's more genuine) psychosis, I let out like an irate banshee. My posture becomes animally aggressive, and with my body language, I intend to imply clearly that I am insane. Which, after a day like I was having, it feels real even to me. The trembling I'd been feeling before he came along boils to the surface, pops the lid, and I start to cry--I am that angry with him and frankly with myself and with my day and in some childish way the whole world.

At last, he gives in, tells me to fuck off, and then leaves.

I inhale.

In the end, he acts as though I have been following him. Well, I gladly thank him the moment he tells me to fuck off. Literally, I immediately say, "Thank you," as he storms away from the crazy chick.

That worked :)