Before all this social media, if you wanted to get to know a celebrity, your
only hope was to catch them in an interview on TV, or maybe see them at an
awards show. You could read an interview, yes, or some other kind of
article, but they always put their best foot forward, so unless it was a
takedown piece, the writer would show them in the best light. That was okay,
in general, but it did once place me in danger. When I had a crush on a
particular leading man from decades long past—and I certainly wasn’t the
only one—it was based on very little information. He was so great in his
movies. He didn’t appear in many projects, mind you; he was a choosy talent,
but they were all amazing, and he was amazing in all of them. I was young
and naive, and I thought I was in love. Of course, I never thought I would
get the opportunity to meet the man, and looking back, if only one minor
thing had changed about that fateful day, I never would have. I can’t even
say his name, it hurts so much to think back on it. I guess you could call
it my unfinished business, even though there is nothing I can do about it
now, so here it is. My local radio station was offering a promotion. Be
caller number 96, and win a date with the hunk himself. They couldn’t call
it a date on the official rules as it suggested some sort of romantic slant,
but the crude radio personalities sure had their fun with their guesses as
to what would go down. I called in, and actually won, and I was so
incredibly excited. This was it, I was finally going to meet the man of my
dreams. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was under no illusions about the upcoming
night. I did not think he would fall in love with me, and ask me to marry
him right then and there. But I didn’t care, because I felt honored enough
just to be in his presence. I was so wrong.
He didn’t get down on one knee and propose to me on the night of, but he did
seem to like me a lot. My mother warned me that he would probably expect
sex. That was all right, I was ready, so I sat through the talk so
she could make sure I understood that I could always change my mind. I did
change my mind and it wasn’t really due to anything specific about him. He
had a bit of a weird smell that I imagine he would call his musk, but I
could have looked past that. It was just that we didn’t have any chemistry,
and I guess he always wore makeup on screen, so I wasn’t all that attracted
to him, so after the meet and greet, I just wanted to leave. It was a nice
time, and I don’t think I would have regretted it if it had all ended, but
he was not interested in ending things. He appeared totally fine that I
wasn’t into have sex, but it was all an act. He was determined to get me in
bed, whether I wanted it or not. He didn’t just break into my house, and
attack me, though. No, that would have been too obvious. It would have been
scary too, but at least I could have called the authorities if he had done
that. Instead, he was what everyone around me thought was oh so romantic.
They never let me call it what it was, which was stalking. He would send me
flowers, and show up at my work. I found him in my kitchen once, waiting for
my mother to make him some breakfast, like he was her son-in-law. It was so
creepy, and I kept having to reject his advances, but he wouldn’t have it. I
think he only stopped coming by because he found some new girl to fixate on.
I never summed any of this up before, because as bad as it was, his actions
were not reportable. I just wish people had listened to me back then,
because a couple of years ago, we learned that some other girls ended up
being not so lucky.
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