This Old Man, He Played One…

Oh, yeah, you guessed it.  Another Senile Stalker* moment.  Luckily (for me,) this time I wasn’t the victim of his witless and persistent advances this time.  It was poor Marie.**  There he was early one afternoon, camped out in her easy chair, (overstaying his welcome as usual I’m sure,) when he made one of his usual self-deluded and disgusting remarks.  Despite the fact that Marie is actually “too old” to technically be his type (even though she is still, like, 30 years younger than his doddering old ass,) he has made insinuating remarks to her before, and even tried to give her a shoulder massage once (too her utter horror,) and she has told him before that it’s not gonna happen.  But if you read any of my other posts on The Stalker (linked below,) you know by now she’s pretty much the only person in the complex who will still talk to his dumb ass.

So he busts out with something like, “You know you want some of this.”

She says in what I imagine is much like the voice you’d use with a small child, “R****, no.”

Not to be deterred by anything so piddly as a damsel’s rejection, he gets up and proceeds to take his hat and jacket off.  He tries to lean over her on the couch to kiss her, (around which time I believe she tells him no for a second time.  He tries to pull the blanket she has off her lap.  I don’t know the timing exactly but I know she told him no a total of three times, and he was only deterred when she reached for his cane, intending to whack him a good one on the knees and bring him down.  He plunked back down in his seat, but Marie told him to hit the road.

She was so upset.  Apparently, she called the (aforementioned in another article) maintenance guy and he talked to her until she calmed down.

I told her not to let him back into her apartment again…ever.  And she didn’t plan on it.  If he was any younger or any healthier, she could have been in big trouble.

He knocked on her door the other day and she thought it was me and told him to come in.  He tried to apologize for “pushing himself” on her, but she pretty much brushed his apology off and told him to take the CDs he’d loaned her a while back and give her the stuff she had previously loaned him.  Basically a “take your shit and get out.”

Glenn Quagmire

“Take your cane and giggity-git the fuck out!”

Oh, what will happen next?  I knew the saga wasn’t over yet.

On another note, Marie and I believe he’s been driving his vehicle (when he’s not loaning it to whores, that is.)  He hasn’t had a license for a while.  I don’t want to cause trouble, but I sort of feel like maybe I should report him; I’d feel terrible if he caused an accident and hurt someone.  Opinions?

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The Senile Stalker Gets Scared Straight?

Could this be the end of the Senile Stalker Saga?  Today things came to a head- sort of.   I mean, I’m starting to think the only thing that will really end it is if one of us dies (preferably not me, as I’m kind of attached to myself.)

I went next door to visit my neighbor, as I often do.  Some of her family, also friends of mine, were over and I wanted to hang out a bit before they went back home.  I’d already been over there once for my morning coffee (no coffeemaker at the mo’,) but this time the Old Man was sitting on the love seat.

…and maybe it was too late for me to turn around;  I had momentum…or a brief leave of my common sense… and went into my neighbor’s apartment anyway.

And damned if the first thing he said to me wasn’t, “What did you tell your old man about me?”

He must have hit a nerve with me today…either that or my bullshit meter is red-lining, cuz I snapped back something like, “R****, I am not in the mood for your bullshit today.”

But the few things I said to him today in response to his passive-aggressive routine, he acted like he didn’t hear.  I told him Hubs was mad and asked him what he expected.  He said he didn’t expect anything.  Deliberate obtuseness.  Great.

About that time Marie’s sister-in-law called to me from the bedroom.  Saved by the bell.  She knows how I feel about the Old Geezer.  About that time, her little girl, who had been taking an extra long time in the bathroom, slipped into the room, also trying to evade the Old Man.  I offered them safe haven in my apartment until the Old Man left and I went back to my apartment, and the little girl came over shortly after.  She said that R**** had told them all he didn’t like that I told my husband everything he says to me.

Hubby heard that and then he went outside to smoke…and apparently to go next door.

"Put 'em up!"

“Put ’em up!”

I guess he’d hit his bullshit quota for the year too.  He told the Old Man not to ever talk to him, me, or the baby again, that he didn’t want to see his face again.   And all the Old Man said was “Okay.”  I wonder if he pissed himself a little.

That still didn’t stop him from asking my friend and her little girl if we were over here talking about him at my place, and what all we said.  But I doubt he’ll be speaking to me anytime soon.  He gets all indignant and pissy when you’ve had enough of his shit and you tell him off.  Then he gets over it.  But hopefully he’s smart enough to know better.  If he starts coming around us again, I have a feeling the cops will be called…hopefully before Hubs stomps him into Old Man compost.

 

I’m Meals on Wheels for the Stalker Now

I suppose I’m asking for trouble here.  But doing something nice for someone is never bad, is it?  Even if that person is my creepy senile stalker?  Actually, I’m doing it as much for my neighbor, Marie*, as anything else.  I was outside smoking a cigarette.  I had just laid DD down and was planning on following her example and taking a nice restorative nap.  But then Marie she came outside.  I could tell almost immediately by the way she was walking towards me, by her body language, even though her face was initially obscured by the fence between us, that something was not quite right.  When I asked what was wrong, she tearfully explained that she was worried Old Man didn’t have any food…  which considering his monthly income is ridiculous, yet completely plausible.

While he brings in easily 3k a month from Social Security or whatever, his incessant skirt chasing leads him to give it away to women.  Now he’s in debt because he can’t afford his own bills.  He has a car, which is somehow, inexplicably insured even though I’m pretty sure he has no license.  These women, a family of rejects, one of which is in jail/rehab for meth, come and use his car and then drop it back off when it’s out of gas.

But, okay… Marie is clearly upset, even though the Old Man annoys the piss out of both of us, and we know doing things for him is like tacitly encouraging him to rely on/ take advantage of our kindness.

She tearfully asked me, “Why do I feel like this?”

And I said, simply, “Because you’re a good person.”  She’s better than me.   But as much as it pains me to admit it, my heart is not made of stone (at least not completely,) so I told her I’d help her make him a huge tub of pasta that would feed him at least a few times.  I also told her that we were probably going to have to take more drastic measures with him, like trying to snag one of his relatives when they came by, or like calling social services, because neither of us can afford to feed ourselves, our families, and his dumb ass.  

But I told her not to tell him I helped, or rather, to tell him I made the extra pasta for her and she was just gonna give it to him.  I don’t want him thinking I’ll do shit for him, because he would totally take advantage of it, and, as I mentioned before in my other posts about him, he’d probably think it meant I was madly in love with him after all.  Who knows, maybe tonight would find him masturbating over a plate of pasta with a vacant expression on his irritating face.

Got a good mental picture of that? … You’re welcome.

A random old man eating spaghetti

So much for my nap.

The pot of pasta was huge, the most pasta I’ve ever made at one time.  I had Marie go over to Old Man’s place and ask to borrow a can of sauce, as she said she’d seen that he had a lot of sauce in his cupboards when her daughter helped move him to the next apartment over.  (Yeah, you read that right…Marie’s daughter and her husband helped move the Old Man.)  

Anyway, I was just gonna cook the noodles and toss the sauce in.  Normally I’d add veggies and other stuff for a better tasting, more nutritious meal.  But this whole thing was still sitting a little wrong with me, so I wasn’t about to use my family’s food to feed him, when it’s his own stupid fault if he can’t afford groceries.

But Marie suggested I just keep some for myself once I was done, so I added zucchini and onions and some extra sauce, and Marie and I each had a plate when the food was done.  I took a small container for my husband’s dinner later and packed the rest up for Old Man.

Voila.  There’s my good deed for the day.  Where he’s concerned, for the year.

But I guess it still does feel good to do something nice for someone…even if I sometimes want to smack that someone.

 

The Senile Stalker Strikes Again!

So, just recently I regaled you all with tales of my senile stalker.  Strangely enough, a small (eensy, weensy, teeny) part of me feels a little bad for talking smack about him on my blog and with my neighbor and whatnot.

And then he goes and pulls some shit like he did tonight and I practically can’t help myself from venting  writing about it.

As I may have mentioned before in my other article, he got basically told off by the maintenance man for bothering the ladies around the apartment complex and just generally being a creeper.  Following that incident, there was a small period of reprieve where he was pissed at me I guess because he assumed I had set the Maintenance man on him (which would indicate that despite his dementia, he is at least marginally aware that I’m getting tired of his bullshit.)

Who knows?  Whatever.  Anyway, in that time period, the only person he felt at ease bothering was my middle aged neighbor (we’ll call her Marie, for anonymity’s sake.)  He’s been “setting up camp” there more and more, asking telling her when he needs her to drive him places (he’s a menace behind the wheel,) and “hanging out” in her living room, waiting for me to show up to visit her or bum a cigarette.  I avoid visiting her when I know he’s there, or else I’m in and out as quickly as possible, usually sachaying sideways out the door so he can’t stare at my ass.

Earlier today Marie gave me a small bag of flat breads she had gotten at the store, as she had gotten two and would not be able to use both before they were outdated.  So this evening, I tried out an idea I had for basically turning them into giant cinnamon toast rounds.  As I often do when I cook a new dish, I took some over to her.

The old man was sitting in his usual spot in the love sofa.  I went in with the plate of food and asked her for a smoke.   She was out of her store-bought cigs but offered to roll us some.  I didn’t feel like waiting and being under the Old Fart’s scrutiny the whole time, while he lamely attempted to engage me in conversation.  So I handed Marie the plate and said, “I just wanted to bring you this,” and I left.  She knows I avoid being around him, so I know she isn’t insulted and usually understands when I need to cut short a visit or make a quick getaway.

As I walked back in my apartment, hubs was getting ready to go out to smoke.  It was still nice out so I put the baby’s shoes on and took her outside too.

Not five minutes later, Marie came out the door with her smokes in hand.  At first I just assumed she had heard us outside and came out to talk and give me a smoke because I had left her apartment without one.

She proceeded to tell me that when she went into the kitchen to get her tobacco to roll the smokes, the Old Man picks up the half a cinnamon flat bread on the plate that I had given her and proceeds to help himself to two bites.

She said after that she just walked out the front door, and she tells me all of this, I realize she’s really pissed off, so pissed off in fact, that tears are standing in her eyes…which of course pisses me off even more.  She just didn’t even know what to say to him.  She was pissed, but also feels badly for him because he is old and sick, so she’s probably more tolerant of him than she should be, considering that in his twisted mind, tolerance is almost like tacit permission.  This is a man who seems to think that me returning a wave to him to be polite is indicative of the fact that we might have a romantic future.

I mentioned (more to make her feel better than anything) that she should just cut off the part he ate and the rest would be fine, and she said “He picked it up with both hands.”  Now depending on how germ phobic you are, this may or may not seem like a huge deal… unless you’ve seen him carrying around his ratty, crumpled tissue and repeatedly dabbing at his nose, or worse, seen him sitting in Marie’s apartment mining for nose gold and flicking his findings out into the air.

I even offered to go into her apartment and “take care” of the situation for her and get rid of his rude, imposing ass.  Believe me, I would have let him have it.  But I think maybe he actually had his hearing aid in tonight and heard the three of us outside talking shit, because he came outside a few minutes later…  but not before helping himself to some of the cornbread that was in her kitchen.

~Sigh~  I told her that she can’t keep letting him get away with that behavior.  In fact, I think sometimes he does certain things to see just how much he can get away with.  I understand he’s ill, and maybe not playing with a full deck, but there comes a time to draw the line.   How long do we allow his behavior to make us uncomfortable because “he’s sick?”

One thing is for certain; my tolerance for his passive-aggressive tendencies, his manipulations, his advances, and his bad manners are about down to zilch now.