You know the old saying insisting that the truth is stranger than fiction?  Whoever said that was a mad, mad genius.  I’ve come to notice that what happens in real life is far more interesting than anything I’ve ever found on a bookshelf.  The story I’m about to tell you is so rich that I couldn’t resist…

  I have a girlfriend who is embroiled in a legal situation similar to mine.  Her issues with the “father” of her child are long and complicated and exceedingly ridiculous.  It’s commonplace to find women in this predicament here in my city.  Way to go, Fair City, for giving the nod to people who hardly deserve to adopt a pet.  But this blog isn’t about that…

  Anyway, we’ll call my friend Anastasia.  I like the name Anastasia.  Lost princess and all, which is certainly what my friend is.  So Anastasia called me last night and insisted that I meet up with her sometime very soon.  She sounded shaken up, but I didn’t lend that much credence since she’s got a frail constitution.  She’s easily worked up, but just as easily soothed.  Knowing as much I asked her to come right over, figuring that I could ease her troubled mind right away and spare her a night of internal torture over whatever had knotted her panties.  She gratefully agreed to haul butt to my house… and was here before I had time to put on a pot of java.  I can’t imagine how many traffic laws she shot to hell on her journey!

  She breezed into my living room, out of breath and looking windblown.  Anastasia is a shot of glucose… always moving, always moving fast, and always looking as though she’d just survived a hurricane.  Hell, she IS a hurricane.  I love that chick! 

  “The bastard has hacked my computer!”  She shouted.  Anastasia talks like she moves… with urgency.  Her inside voice is an outside voice, while her outside voice is a shriek.

  “Really?”  I asked calmly.  It’s best to speak to her in soothing tones, much like you would if you stumbled upon a bear in the forest.  She may attack otherwise.

  “Really!”  she shrilled, eyes wide and cheeks reddening.

  “He’s brain-dead,”  I reminded her.  “How could he possibly do that?”

  “That’s the thing.  I don’t have a clue.”  Her shoulders slumped a bit.

  “What makes you think he might have done that?” 

  “There’s no MIGHT!”  she shouted. “He DID!”   I tried not to smile. 

  “Ok…”  I said, deciding to take another tack.  “How did you find out that he DID?”

  “It doesn’t matter where I go,”  she told me.  “He finds out every website I use, what I do on there, who I talk to….”  She was talking so fast I was afraid she’d swallow her own tongue.

  “All right.  How do you know?”  I needed to know what had gotten her hackles up.

  “Because he quotes me on his web page.  I open accounts under fake names and he finds me.  I open accounts using fake cities and states, and he finds me.  The bastard has had someone hack my computer!”  By this time she was downright screaming.  She does that a lot… screams TO me, but never AT me.  You’d really have to meet her to understand. 

  “I seriously doubt he’s actually hacked anything,”  I said, trying to rationalize for her.

  “Bullshit,”  she hissed.

  “Listen,”  I purred.  “If anything he’s found a second rate nobody, or even a paid service, to go ahead and track your IP address.”

  “Super!  He’s threatened to use the shit against me in court,”  she mumbled.  I could tell by the mumble that she was calming down, and that what I’d said had started her descent to reality.

  “So?”  I asked.

  “So?”  she repeated.  She was glaring at me.

  “Yeah, I said it.  So what?  Are you regularly visiting child porn sites?” 

  “Sometimes I visit regular ones,”  she admitted with a giggle.

  “Big deal.  That’s not illegal.  I think it’s ok to be a closet perv…” 

  “Yeah, ok….” she breathed.

  “Are you looking up great bomb-making techniques online?”  I asked.

  “Uh… no.”

  “Splendid.  Are you using his name, your name, or your kid’s name in your blogs?”  I queried.

  “Nope,”  she said, comprehension beginning to brighten her face.

  “Do you think he’s goddamn stupid enough to try to explain to a judge that he’s somehow found a way to chase your IP address all over the place when the good old Judicial Guru asks how he knows these are places you visit?  Do you think he’s so idiotic that he will in any way admit in open court that he’s stalking you, or paying someone to do so?” 

  “Acutally, yes,”  she replied, grinning.

  “And how stable is that going to make “Daddy of the Century” look?”  I prodded.

  “Not very…”  she affirmed.

  “So what’s the problem?” 

  “The problem is that it’s plain creepy!”  She shuddered a little, as if to prove just how creepy it was.

  “You got me there.  It IS creepy.  But you gotta admit it’s kinda funny.”

  “If by funny you mean creepy!”  She was getting worked up again. 

  “By funny I mean funny.  How often does this guy have to have you on his mind?  I imagine he thinks of nothing else.  Can you imagine how shitty his new wife must feel, knowing that he’s so consumed with thoughts of you… so angry over you dumping him all those years ago… so ready to exact revenge because he LOST you?  Can you imagine being her and knowing that in his mind you will always be second place?  I guarantee that if he has all this time to stalk you, he’s not spending much time with her in mind.  Now that’s funny!”

  By the time I’d finished my diatribe Anastasia was laughing hysterically.  For all the volume of her speech she’s a surprisingly quite laugher.  She shakes and rattles but makes hardly a peep.  It’s astonishing.

  We chatted a little more about the goings-on in our lives and then she had to go.  She hugged me as she left and thanked me for bringing her back from her momentary hysteria.  I told her that it was no biggie and assured her that I would be there for her next breakdown!

  I’m still a little dazed by her story, to be honest.  It’s abundantly clear to anyone that comes into contact with her son’s “father” that the guy is whacked, obviously more interested in screwing with her than he could ever be in his child.  His goal is to use the kiddo to hurt the mother.  He’s a real picture of parenting perfection, lemme tell ya.  I’m saddened that anyone would go to the lengths he’s gone to in order to hurt someone.  Being a parent myself, and loving my child with utter ferocity, it is hard to fathom putting my baby in an uncomfortable situation at all.  I would walk through fire to make sure she’s safe.  I would give up my own happiness just to see her smile.  I would denounce everything I’ve ever loved if it meant she’d be forever happy. 

  Touchy-feely junk aside, this happenstance is otherwise hysterically funny.  Part of me kinda hopes the guy waltzes into court the next time he and Anastasia have to appear and produces his ill-gotten, hardly relevant, gains.  I mean honestly, it’s not like she uses her computer to launder money, kill kittens, or overtake the universe.  Anything he gets on her by watching her every move will only serve to show that he has far too much time on his hands… and will likely serve to prove that he’s a whack job who has a sick vendetta against poor Anastasia.  Last I checked, stalking was a crime… and if what he’s doing IS stalking.  Jesus, what kind of criminal ADMITS he’s a criminal just to piss off his baby momma?  A hardly intelligent one, I’d say.  Too funny.  Just too damned funny!