Here’s what your stalker does, every night

If you’re wondering what your stalker does every day at around a quarter past midnight, this little post will perhaps help you understand what’s going on at the other end of the line. And if you’re a post-millennial stalker in denial, then this would be an extremely helpful guide to identify the habit. And do nothing about it.

If you, at any point, find yourself lurking on a particular profile online, more often than the others, then congratulations, you’re one of us. At this time, you have perhaps just made yourself some hot cocoa – because the coffee stimulates your senses and keeps you up all night – wanting, craving, coveting. And now you sit down on your bed and switch on your laptop – because the binoculars are useless from 50 yards away and you’ve evolved past the point of blank calling. What are you, 12?

No, you log in and find that new picture – not that display picture in your newsfeed– that’s for noobs. You dig deeper – you go to ‘photos’ and then, ‘albums’ and discover that ambiguously titled set called ‘Random clicks 2011’ and then click and click and click until you find those two pictures – back to back – that are simply perfect. You don’t discover anything new about a face and form you’ve memorised so well. It just confirms and is proof that what you see in him is real and has been documented. For you to come back to and look at whenever you want to.

Do not react to the several calls to action – you aren’t even moderately tempted to do that – what would be the point of that? Just scroll down to the comments section and let it direct you to her profile. Go and discover whatever you can of her – she’s pretty but you’re convinced that she’s compensating for it somehow. No, great collection of boots, has travelled to Auckland, Berlin and Budapest this year and holds a degree in Astrophysics. You’re starting to feel small now. Let it sink in. Soak yourself in this knowledge and go press the back button – repeat until you find Random Clicks 2011 again. Click-click-click. Right click and save image in a hidden folder titled My Secret Box of Hate. Make sure you’ve saved the one in which he seems to directly stare at you. Allow yourself to feel the butterflies. No, you can’t just summon them at will.

Now get back to rewriting that post from last night – but first, go through his blog one more time. Re-read and memorise some more. The last time he cooked asparagus, or played football in the rain (with pictures), and how many times he’s seen A Street Car Named Desire and his results from the Jung Typology Test. Take the test again and again, until you match his type. Now go back to your post and make a sly reference to it – sure he’ll get it.  He can take it. Can he?

Now get into your car and switch to high beam when you drive past his house – he knows it’s you. He has an inkling but it’s not much to build on. Go home now. It’s 6 am and it’s another night you spent on him. Now pick up your phone. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Left. Always, left.

The next day when you run into him – walk past and don’t make eye contact. That’ll teach him. Oh, shoot, the butterflies are back.