The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I GetThe term "psycho" has become so overused that folks forget how ass-clinchingly scary a real psycho can be. Folks use the word psycho to refer to that jerk of a boss that yells so much you want to do the #1 in his coffee and the #2 in his ferns. Or they use psycho to describe the ex who kept talking about her ex, took three hours to order a meal and cried when she didn't come. OK, the boss, the ex, are these people annoying? Yeah. Does a slight shudder go through you thinking about them? Sure. But your blood pressure drop with fear when you see them coming down the hall?
Obviously, the term psycho is short for psychotic. The definitions of psychotic are all variations of "has a psychosis." So to get across the impact of a real psycho, the clinical definition of "psychotic" is the best way to begin: "Mental disturbance of serious magnitude that may be characterized by loss of contact with reality. Delusions and hallucinations are often present." OK, so the term has been watered down by media portrayal as well. Talking to yourself is played out as a wacky eccentricity in a sitcom. Most dramas present them as so over the top to be unbelievable. It's only when they get the reality dysfunction right that portrayals of psychotic people become uncomfortable (Law & Order nails it on the head once in a while), and not some David E. Kelley sanitized villain crap.
So where am I going with this? Well, Ford Festiva chick is a psycho, and I mean that in the original crap I'm looking over my shoulder I hope she doesn't hunt me down and boil my cat sense.
During my last couple of weeks at ContractGigByTheOcean, a majority of the female staff and attorneys have told me more stories. Several have told me that, when they've been in the restroom, they've heard Ford Festiva chick laughing out loud in the stalls to no one, or seen her talking to herself at the mirror. NMBL (and yes, I feel bad for insuating that she would ever be unfaithful because she is a very nice human being--stupid her having a likable boyfriend) told me that she was working late one night, and caught Ford Festiva chick talking to herself at her computer. At a farewell party about a week and a half ago, Ford Festiva chick was sitting by herself smiling and laughing. And she has the crazy eyes. What do I mean by that? OK, open your eyes. No, I mean really open them, as wide as they can get. Now keep them open. Walk around in public like that. Try to make eye contact and see what kind of reactions you'll get. That's what I mean by crazy eyes.
Earlier this week, Ford Festiva chick walked passed my cubicle and then stopped at the neighboring cubicle. I saw her look down and smile. She was there for a good minute or so. Then she started laughing. I talked to the secretary in the neighboring cubicle the next day. "I thought she was reading something on my ledge, but there was nothing there but a phone book" she told me.
My last day at ContractGigByTheOcean was Friday. Ford Festiva chick asked me if I had any lunch plans and I said I did. Then she said, "Well, I'll talk to you tonight then." A few of the female staffers, knowing the 411, were then cool enough to have lunch with me. That afternoon, Ford Festiva chick kept passing by my cubicle to give me a creepy smile and stare. If she saw me in an attorney's office, she'd try to make eye contact. Then she moved from her cubicle to another cubicle next to mine. One of the secretaries told me that Ford Festiva chick had a lot of scanning to do, and the scanner was in that area. But then I found out that the scanner was not at the cubicle she was using. She was using the cubicle next to mine for no apparent reason at all. OK, there probably was a reason--a scary fucking reason. So I moved offices.
There was a farewell shindig at a local bar for me as well as NMBL and two other attorneys. One of the secretaries told me that she overheard Ford Festiva chick talking to herself, saying "Yeah, I think I'm going to go home after this." I thought I was in the clear. Then she walked in, her neck craning above the crowd in hunter-seeker mode. I ducked, crouched and made my way to another table that was full and away from Ford Festiva chick. I spent the next half-hour in crouch mode, making my farewells. NMBL gave me sympathetic glances. I managed to sneak next to NMBL and her friend from college who was visiting. "Hey, we're leaving in about ten minutes. You can sneak out with us," NMBL said. And sneak out I did. I managed to leave without Ford Festiva chick getting my digits or causing a scene.
I'd hate to be such a chickenshit, but I have dealt with borderline psychos before. Yeah, even before Bee's Knees. And one thing I've learned, the direct "fuck off" route is dangerous with psychos.
I've had certain guys tell me that I should've just banged her and be done with it. Psychos are great in bed. But one of those guys backed off wid a mad quickness on that advice seeing Ford Festiva chick's behavior first hand. And I doubt those guys have actually bedded someone who was clinically psychotic. And if you haven't reached the "hey, that horse is dead, stop kicking" point yet, or haven't gotten that fact that this girl was bigf~ck, let's put it this way. You've all encountered that bag lady, muttering to herself on the street, menacing people for change. What if she followed you to work? What if she passed by your office on an hourly basis? What if it was clear she got wet everytime she saw you? How's your libido doing now?