I often say that I have no regrets in life. If I regretted something it means I would have changed it, and if I’d done so, then I wouldn’t be where I am now, and I love it here. If I could do some things over again differently, I might (like finishing college the first time, instead of going back later), but most of those things aren’t that important. One thing I do regret, however, is dating Scott. If I could erase that period in my life, I would do so in a heartbeat.

I was 20 years old and had just broken up with my first real boyfriend of 2 years. I was still very much in love with him, but for various reasons, couldn’t continue to be with him. I picked up a night job at the coffee shop inside the bowling alley where I spent all my time, for both extra cash, and a distraction. Scott was a mechanic at the bowling alley and at the time, a generally likable person. We started dating a bit, mostly becoming a pair in the group of friends we shared. Then things turned ugly. I found out he was married. How did I find out, you ask? When a friend got a call saying that Scott’s wife was on the rampage and on her way to the Denny’s where a bunch of us were, to kick my ass. Awesome!

I was stupid back then, and didn’t dump him in that instant. Instead, I helped him file his divorce papers, and eventually let him move in with me. At the time, I saw nothing wrong with this plan. In hindsight, all I can say is Oy. We continued dating a few more months, and he got increasingly clingy, and I got increasingly annoyed. On my 21st birthday he forbid me to go out with my friends because he had to work. That was the final straw for me. No one tells me how to live my life or spend my time, least of all him. So I dumped him. Repeatedly. And he kept begging to come back. He refused to get his stuff from my apartment (I eventually had a mutual friend come remove it for him). He kept calling and telling me he loved me and that I was making a mistake.

And then he started stalking me.

The first time I noticed it I was home watching a movie with a friend. I saw a movement over near my window, and looked over. I thought maybe a cat was walking by and I was seeing the shadow. And then I saw Scott’s eyes looking at me in between some crooked vertical blinds. I screamed and he ran off. My friend ran out after him, but he took off in his car quickly. I was shaken. I was beyond shaken, I was terrified. I couldn’t stay in that apartment anymore. We left and hung out with some friends for a few hours before I could force myself to go back home. I brought reinforcements with me because I was entirely too scared to sleep there by myself. Feeling mildly safer with people sleeping on my couches, I tried to force myself to sleep. Sleep just would not come for me that night. Or many nights into the future.

A few nights later I was in that same Denny’s parking lot hanging out with a group of friends (when the bowling alley closed, we just congregated at the only all night place in the neighborhood. Denny’s). Someone pointed out a car in the parking lot across the street that looked like Scott’s. I froze. After careful investigation, we found out that Scott was watching me. I was freaked out. I didn’t know how to deal with this. I jumped in my car and sped home. Moments later, my friends all came over too. They wouldn’t let me be alone, thankfully. We turned on the tv and I tried to calm myself down. It was working until my friend Jeffy jumped up and said “Scott’s out there” and then went running outside. I cried. I crumpled like a dry leaf and just sobbed. I remember someone called the cops, but Scott was long gone before they got there. I don’t remember much else except obsessively checking the vertical blinds to make sure they were straight.

I called the cops the next day with the intention of filing a restraining order. I was informed that I couldn’t get a restraining order unless he threatened me or my property with harm. Which, sadly, he hadn’t. He just made me feel unsafe in my own home. Apparently, that’s not a crime. So there was nothing I could do. I spent a lot of time at a neighbor’s place, when none of my friends could be at my apartment with me. I never spent another night alone in that apartment. I guess he got the hint eventually, because he stopped following me around (though continued to badmouth me to anyone who’d stop to listen). He keyed “Bitch” into the hood of my beat up old car sometime after that. The thing was was such a piece of junk that it actually made me laugh that anyone would think keying it would be some sort of insult. A short while later I started dating Jason, my now ex-husband, and I think his size alone scared Scott into backing off.

I regret all that drama just because of the fear it brought me. For years I’ve had an issue with vertical blinds. Even after I moved out of that apartment, I’ve had a compulsion to make sure they’re all perfectly straight at all times. Even at other people’s houses, I’d casually adjust the blinds so they’d be straight and people couldn’t peek in the windows. It’s ridiculous, especially since I knew he wasn’t following me anymore, and I knew he didn’t know where I lived. There are still some occasions where I see the blinds slightly crooked, and I feel scared. I hate that. I hate that it still gets to me, especially when I’m home alone late at night. It’s been over 10 years. I should get past it by now.

I regret to inform you, I’m still scared of vertical blinds.