Debbie Gibson & Britney Spears: Hire a Violin Section, Then Come Tell Me About Stalkers

How what news is deemed to be worthy of front-page headlines is absolutely beyond my comprehension. By now, every widely-circulated news source has reported that an Los Angeles judge extended Britney Spears' restraining order against her rumored boyfriend/manager/paparazzi Sam Lufti until July 31. And so, we are given the facts about this momentous event and how the original restraining order was filed in February banning Lufti from coming within 250 feet of Spears or her property. Obviously it is imperative that everyone in the world knows about this information even as Ms. Spears is still being photographed hanging around with him. As coincidence would have it, on the same day we also read that the teeny-bop's predecessor, Debbie Gibson, the 1980s female pop superstar famous for one-hit wonders such as "I Think We're Alone Now," has also jumped on the bandwagon by filing her own restraining order - hers is against a taxi driver from Spain who has traveled all around the world just to see her in concert. The cabbie claims he has no intention of harming her - he simply wants to take as many pictures of her as he can and get some autographs to share with other Debbie Gibson admirers through the fan club that he manages.

In this dual earth-shaking event, we are made privy to the additional information detailing how the cabbie showed up at the singer's home leaving her notes with his telephone number on them. Being concerned for her safety, Debbie Gibson filed an emergency protective order with her local police department that stipulates that the cabbie is not allowed to come within 100 feet of her. The order is set to expire after ten days and a court hearing has been scheduled for May 28. The hearing will enable the judge to determine whether or not to turn this temporary restraint into a permanent order much like the one that has already been extended twice for Ms. Spears. I guess it should appear obvious to me, that I should drop everything and anything that I might be doing to follow this case closely, particularly if the order allows this cabbie (who refers to himself as "debhead") to still be able to attend Debbie Gibson's concerts and take photos of her through a super zoom lens.

In the "other" world where people have day jobs and are faced with endless bills and mundane errands, the person who might be stalked usually knows exactly who the stalker is. They have met at least on a superficial basis already, such as bumping into each other in a parking lot or meeting through a mutual friend or business contact. Ms. Spears, on the other hand, has had multiple stalkers throughout her career ranging from crazed fans to overzealous paparazzi. In Ms. Gibson's situation, she most likely may have met her stalker while signing autographs or simply hanging around backstage after a performance.

It apparently seems to go unnoticed that a significantly high number of "everyday" women - some of them who are far more attractive than the blonds that bombard the pop music charts - get stalked on a regular basis. It also seems that nobody cares too much about the strange characters who lurk in and out of these unknown women's parking lots or outside of their bedroom windows following their every move and sometimes even injecting themselves into the victim's life. The damage potential of a somewhat obsessive fan is nil compared to the damage stalkers can have upon an "everyday" woman. Ms. Spears and Ms. Gibson's stalkers already know that the objects of their attention live in another galaxy that happens to be light years away from that world in which they themselves reside in - whereas the stalkers of "everyday" people (who sometimes also live close to their victims) often believe that they have an actual chance of enforcing a normal life with their targets.

In a world that is far removed from the one where the pop superstars tread, I met my own stalker while working for a private bank that issued loans and credit to small businesses. My stalker was a regular customer who somehow ended up owing the bank a large amount of money and whose account had recently been frozen. Employees in the bank's collection department often spoke of him as the "man who didn't have a tongue" referring to the assumption that he was having a hard time licking the stamps to place on the envelopes to mail in his payment. In some strange way, it seems that while my stalker and I were discussing over the phone all the numerous options that were available for him to unfreeze his account, he and I, in his own mind, became "friends."

Soon after, restaurant delivery boys began showing up at the bank bringing me bagged lunches of bagel sandwiches and other boutique foodstuffs from places like The Cheesecake Factory - No Charge. Various bottles of champagne and expensive Italian wines (along with long-stemmed red roses, of course) were also being delivered with quixotic notes attached proclaiming the depth to which my stalker had fallen in love with me and how much he wanted to meet me in person. He also sent long and explicit letters declaring that he couldn't stop thinking about me and that he was near to having a heart attack from all the passion that I had created in him - and all of this just from his hearing my voice over the telephone. My reaction was to suffer somewhat of an anxiety attack - one that almost caused me to visit an emergency room, but what was I supposed to do there? Should I explain to my trusty medical practitioners how I now need Valium because some weirdo says he is in love with me? From my own intuitions, I knew that this person was seriously disturbed. At first however, I didn't realize exactly how much trouble his "kind" gestures might come to and I initially decided to ignore them hoping he was just drunk, mildly eccentric or perhaps maybe having a wonderful day in the stock market.

When I didn't call him to personally thank him for all the gifts that he had sent, my stalker then began to call my office after-hours, filling up my voicemail by the next morning with long drawn-out proclamations of his deep and passionate love. He also recited love poems that he had written for me in part English, part French, and part Japanese that I couldn't make out to be anything other than what sounded to me like drunken gibberish. Other than the language impediment, his poetry-of-passion seemed to be structured as coherently as it might have been coming from any other man possessing a decent amount of intelligence. Even though his messages were always cut-off in mid-sentence from running past the time limit on my voice mail, it seemed that there was never enough time available for him to tell me over and over again how deeply he had fallen in love with me. He was very explicit in describing in detail the many ways in which he wished to be with me (especially in the passionate sense). I was also frequently reminded in his messages that he could not wait for the day to meet me in person so that he would finally be able to kiss me. He had already made plans to marry me!

During regular business hours, he would call me at my work, but instead of leaving long messages on my voicemail, he soon began asking co-workers to hand-deliver his epistles of unrequited love to me. He spoke to my fellow employees with such conviction in his voice that many of them actually started to believe that he really was my boyfriend (or at least someone I was extremely close to). He called so often that our secretary began transferring his calls directly to my extension without even screening them. Obviously, when I saw his number on the caller ID, I didn't pick up the phone - and this pushed him to finally come to the bank in person.

When he managed to figure out who I was, he confronted me about my ignoring him. It was then that I made the mistake of telling him that the reason I didn't answer his phone calls was because "I have been very busy and had a lot of work to do." My assumption that this would work was all wrong and backfired instead. I was hoping that he would take this and the fact that I didn't respond to his messages as a sign that I wasn't interested in him. He instead began to turn up the heat, telling me how beautiful I am and how much he believed in love at first sight. He asked if he could take me to lunch or if he could help me to relax by giving me a massage (to that particular offer I replied that I wasn't interested in a massage under any circumstances). He continued to follow me around the bank, all the while telling me that he dreamed of being my personal escort and to be able to "take care" of me - he, of course, would also make sure that nobody ever bothered me while under his protection and care. He would frequently launch into a lengthy dissertation explaining to me "how much I meant something to him" and that he couldn't stand the thought of anyone ever causing harm to me.

My stalker next began showing up at the bank to wait for me everyday, and much to my surprise, nobody managed to ever connect him with being the tongue-less man who didn't pay his debts. They instead saw him as the man that was "with me," exactly as he had told them he was. Since my stalker was tall, dark and rather good looking, he was able to get away with being there without anyone becoming suspicious. He was always hanging around my workplace and chatting with the other women working there. Our receptionist and some of my other female coworkers often swooned over his tan and his well-defined muscles (while I snuck out the back door). My fellow employees were fond of telling me how lucky I was to have such a rich and handsome man in my life. When I told them that he wasn't my boyfriend, they would simply giggle and tell me that I didn't really have to play "hard-to-get." He was being exceptionally nice to them and I could sense that there was even a hint of jealousy from some of the other women because they did not have someone as nice as he to pick them up from work. By this time, my stalker was coming around on a regular basis and was constantly and unceremoniously shmoozing with everyone around me to the point where it looked like we were all becoming one big happy family.

Needless to say, his constant and unwanted presence at the job made me feel extremely ill at ease. He continued to speak to people as though he knew me very well and was intimate with me. While this was the furthest thing from the truth, he was still able to convince people that we were an "item" - his suave demeanor and rather sociable appeal helping him out considerably in this deceptive endeavor. He finally managed to have people believing in his fairy tale concerning how he was my "fiancé" and that we were going to get married. He of course invited them to all come to the wedding that he had engineered in his head. Some of the women actually seemed to be in awe of him as he lovingly described the "honeymoon" in Cancun that he wished to surprise me with. He once even pulled out a large diamond ring from his pocket, mesmerizing my coworkers with this fine example of the wedding gifts he was going to shower upon me. He displayed pictures to them of his yacht along with the blueprints for the dream house that he told them he was in the process of building for me. My attempts to enlighten the people at work to the fact that this man was nothing but a dangerous stalker only caused them to become all that much more convinced that I was an uptight and cold-hearted person who really did need to "get laid." My stalker eventually managed to pick up on my vibes of discomfort and then attempted to use this as a way to lure me into playing cagey confidence and trust games with him. It seemed that everywhere I went it was as though he was there. Even if he was not there physically and in person, he seemed to be there in essence or smell.

After repeatedly being told by my coworkers that I was crazy for pushing away such a "catch," and after my realizing there was no hope of assistance from them, I finally decided to take the matter into my own hands by obtaining a restraining order against him. If he wanted to continue to do business with the bank, then by all means he could still do so, but without having to involve me in any way, shape or form. If needed, I would actually call out sick on those days that he planned to be there to take care of any legitimate business. I made it down to the county courthouse, and after going through the metal detectors and having my body being given a full pat-down, I finally located the room that was set aside for filling out the proper papers. The most important part of the task was to document as much information as possible about my stalker (such as his name, possible aliases, and address). I entered all of the information that I had available to me including the endless variety of ways that he used to stalk me and of course, a thorough and detailed description of him. The court required my signature along with a sworn statement that the reasons for filing the restraining order were all valid. I was also informed that the county constable was required to physically serve my stalker in person in order for him to have been legally provided with the order. Until the restraining order was actually in his hands, my stalker was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted.

What I learned about the process of filing a restraining order is that it does not really offer full protection from one's stalker. A stalker is usually a disturbed human being who mainly wants acknowledgement from the person that he or she is harassing. Sometimes it could be a case of the stalker simply wanting someone to talk to or to get something off his or her chest - sometimes it might be to make a political or social statement. The stalker might also have created a fantasy relationship, which in the most extreme and nightmare scenario might even be something as wild as the Norman Bates character that appeared in Alfred Hitchcock's famous film "Psycho."

Some stalkers have actually been crazy enough to interpret a restraining order as a secret message or signal that lets them know that you are really interested in them but must first be "saved" from a husband, wife, lover, or demanding job. The stalker might then come up with a strategy in which (in the stalker's mind) they are equivalent to being your "hero." The stalker usually spends a good deal of his or her time practicing various performances and characterizations - acting out the scenarios that involve how they will come to the victim's "rescue." This type of fertile imagination enables the stalker to come up with new reasons to approach his or her victim - continually watching from a distance and often showing up just a few feet further than the distance that the restraining order has specified.

Stalkers also like to call on the people that their victims know. My stalker actually contacted my family after I took out the restraining order. He got the necessary information quite easily from the white pages of the phone book. He also called some people who happened to have the same last name as mine in order to have them give me messages and even asked them to "promise" that they would indeed deliver these messages (and of course, tell me how sorry he was for upsetting me). So now I wasn't the only person targeted, there were several other people that my stalker was stalking!

The authorities advised me that the best thing that I could do was to not "instigate" my stalker. I should not look at him when he is standing the safe distance away - I should not say anything when he yells to me at the top of his lungs - and I should always stay away from all the places where he might be lurking. I was also told to never give him any reason to believe that I am interested in him in any way or what he can possibly do for me. I was given hope that by following this advice, remaining self-assertive and attempting to live my life as usual, my stalker would eventually give up or turn his attention towards another victim.

According to those who know about this sort of thing, there are some other ways to shake off a stalker. Here is a sampling of suggestions garnered from my own experience of speaking with various law enforcement officials:

Let your friends, associates and family know about the stalker.
When the stalker has been identified in public, the excitement and glory of being the infamous stalker usually wears off.

Travel with other people.
Being in groups of people who are aware of the situation makes it more difficult for the stalker to approach the victim.

Visit brightly lit places.
Dark roads and dimly lit areas make it easier for the stalker to feel like he or she can get away with coming near the victim or breaking the rules of the restraining order.

Arm yourself if possible.
This doesn't have to be a weapons-grade AK 47. Having something as simple as a can of mace or pepper spray may help to do the trick if the stalker ever comes too close.

Take up martial arts or self-defense training.
Stalkers like to harass people that they think are weak or unable to properly defend themselves. The excitement for the stalker often comes from stalking smaller people who make them feel bigger than they really are.

Keep large vicious dogs.
Loud, barking dogs can help chase the stalker away or alert neighbors when he or she comes to visit at home.

Put on a "poker" face.
The stalker could easily misinterpret any sign of emotion. He or she might think that a smile or an accidental wink is actually a come-on.

Looking back on my experience, I can now think of more than just a few things that have changed since I myself have been stalked, ranging from where I now live to practically changing my entire identity. Ms. Gibson, on the other hand, has it quite easy with her own stalker and I somehow can't really imagine how hers has caused any real damage. To me, he sounds like some average guy simply hoping to make money from selling pictures and autographs of her. Ms. Gibson is still singing, still touring and still able to show her face in public. As for Ms. Spears, I can't say too much about her stalker other than the fact that she should learn to pick and choose her friends more carefully. Perhaps we should all try to remember the fact that there are still people out there who will disregard a "piece of paper" and do whatever they feel they need to do to get what they want.