Page 47 of The App Trap
There were two types of Red level stalker. The first was easy to spot, but persistent. These ones usually remained online and accelerated quickly from everyday compliments to abuse once they’d realised that their advances were being ignored or shrugged off. After you’d blocked them,they might even have created new profiles just to snipe at you.
The second type of red level stalker was someone who has taken the initiative to come and find you in real life, which brought me back to Freddy.
I had recently taken part in a team-building exercise at work which came in the form of a stand-up comedy course. We all had to participate in a showcase at the end of it. That showcase happened to be tonight. I was ‘playing’ at a comedy club in South London, and they were tweeting relentlessly about the show, but mostly about the better show that followed ours. Whatevs. I had foolishly already decided to arrange meeting a guy called Mark at my ‘gig’ because he had great chat and this was actually the only evening that he could meet me for about a month.
Obviously, this was a dangerous move as you could never be sure how somebody will behave at a comedy club. It turned out the answer to this with regard to this particular man was: like an absolute prick.
I metMark just before the gig. There was a disturbing lack of eye-contact between us and he seemed preoccupied with trying to cause mischief. He heckled the acts and the compere. It was a nightmare. And, of course, he heckled me when I went on and I, for want of a better word, struggled through my five minutes of ‘fame’.
To add to this, when I was onstage, I saw two punks in the audience whispering to each other. It was making me uneasy as I had an awful feeling that the rainbow-haired one was in fact Freddy. He knew my surname, and I had the feeling that he was the kind of person to embark on a bit of ‘red-level googling’.
I rattled through my set and grabbed hold of Mark, attempting to leave the venue ASAP, which was annoying because Neil was on next, and I was keen to watch him tank. As I was ushering Mark out the door, I heard:
“Oiiii!”
I turned around to find the two punky guys facing me. It was indeed Freddy, who was accompanied by a green-haired man.
“Who’s this?” snarled Freddy, nodding towards Mark.
Freddy and his friend both leaned forward to obtain a better glance.
“Yeah, who’s this?” said the green-haired friend that reminded me a lot of Oscar the Grouch.
“What?” I pretended to play dumb, knowing full well this situation was about to go nuclear.
I knew this was not good, because I had been sexting Freddy that very day, and sensed that he was about to bring this up.
“I thought you didn’t want a relationship,” he hissed, quoting the standard fob-off line of any self-respecting serial-dater.
“Yeah, he said you said you didn’t want a relationship,” repeated Oscar.
This man was irritating me more than Freddy with his constant repetition.
Mark continued to stare at me silently, but with a smirk that I knew was about to erupt into some kind of venomous sarcasm.
“You know who he is don’t cha?” asked Oscar.
“Huh?” I said, squinting as if I couldn’t quite place Freddy’s distinctive barnet.
“I came ‘ere specially to see you tonight. I thought you was good, actually,” said Freddy.
“Thank you. Nice to meet you,” I said, turning away.
As I attempted to spin around, Freddy pulled me in close. “You fucking owe me a date. But it’s okay, I still love you,” he whispered.
“He still loves you,” repeated Oscar.
“Okay. I’ve gotta go now. Cheers,” I said, panicking profusely.
“No, fuck that, we are staying. Who’s this?” demanded Mark.
Freddy smirked and I knew that he was looking forward to telling Mark everything. There was only one thing for it: I just ran away. I had no investment in Mark, and I had a sense that Freddy was about to escalate in the volatility stakes. So, I legged it. What I didn't bank on was that I was going to be chased. And not by Mark, either.
Freddy and Oscar burst out the door of the comedy club and started to give chase, shouting all manner of abuse. I went into a full sprint as the two punks pursued me, furiously swinging their matching mini rucksacks above their heads like PVC maces.
Freddy was so angry that he even threw his rucksack at me, almost sweeping my legs out, like Daredevil on the hunt for justice.
“I’m gonna fucking have you!” he screamed.
