Did I tell you about that one time when...I have so many stories about The Guy that it’s impossible I’ve told them all here. So I’m pretty sure I haven’t written about this particular moment yet. The Guy—the toxic ex who has stalked me across the globe, online, offline, and everywhere in between.
Today’s lesson, kids, is about handling a specific kind of ridiculousness: when a stalker or bully disrupts your life by interfering with someone you’ve met—because that was their only intention to begin with. This lesson is especially useful for those of us who refuse to buy into the nonsense and just stand back, shaking our heads. This is one of those stories.
It begins on a rainy December day when I was recovering from a cold. Rain and post-sickness aren’t the ideal conditions for a social event, but my gregarious Cuban friend—known for his wild, hilarious stories—was returning from a trip to Mt. Everest. His retelling of his adventure was the one thing that lured me out, raspy voice and all, despite the drizzle.
This Cuban friend brought along someone I hadn’t met: a neurosurgeon in bright green pants, who I came to fondly call Dr. J. Now, I typically don’t date doctors—they’re always working, and I’ve never aspired to be the "doctor’s wife" at home raising kids solo. But that particular rainy December night, there was instant chemistry. Was it the green pants? My sexy husky voice? Who knows? Unfortunately, this story won’t provide us those answers.
Since these guys were in my social circle, I connected with both of them on Facebook, back in the days when people tagged each other in party photos and posted everything online. But life was complicated: I was flying to Germany to untangle a years-old love triangle and to take my first breather after escaping all the toxic drama. I was also deep in family counseling with my parents, who’d been awful about the whole situation. But that’s another story.
Why mention Germany at all? Because during that time—while navigating the mess of one guy, then returning home with two German men in my pocket—I was watching Dr. J on Facebook, and dang, if his personality didn’t draw me in. After Germany, I broke things off with Guy #1, stayed connected with Guy #2, and showed up at another party where my Cuban friend and Dr. J were both there. This time, no rain, no raspy voice—just me, curious about whether Dr. J and I had something real.
At this spring party, Dr. J was surrounded by women. I don’t compete for attention, nor do I chase men, so I kept my distance. We exchanged banter, but the turning point came when he spun me around and lifted me into the air. He wasn’t doing that with the 20-somethings hovering nearby. I left early, brushing my hand down his arm in a way that made him think.
Now, about Guy #2. I genuinely liked him, which surprised me because I’d been emotionally numb since escaping The Guy. But dating after The Guy presented challenges—like when to talk about him. On a third date with an Austrian guy the previous fall, I’d mentioned The Guy, and it was still raw. Most men either didn’t want the drama or suggested solutions I’d already tried: blocking him, changing my email or phone number, etc.
Guy #2 was different. He made me feel something again, but he was completely closed off spiritually and dismissive of beliefs. When I ended things for that reason, he admitted it was a first for him. We’ve stayed in touch, even grabbing coffee when I first arrived in Germany, but there’s nothing there anymore.
Meanwhile, Dr. J was getting under my skin. At his birthday party, I brought a friend who was staying with me while trying to get back on her feet. She was obsessed with a guy on Twitter, which was a whole other drama. We joined Dr. Jfor dinner at a restaurant before heading to the club. At dinner, he asked me to drive his Mercedes and wanted me to touch his face. I was flustered.
That's what I was going through while Dr. J was getting under my skin and in my head. Then there was his birthday party. I brought a friend who was staying with me while trying to get on her feet. She was going through a whole obsession thing with a guy on Twitter. We joined him at a restaruant for a pre party before going to the club. Where he wanted me to touch his face, and asked me to drive his mercedes, because of course he had a mercedes. I was FLUSTERED. We got to the club, and that's when he pulled my hips close to him in a very intimate hug, and I had never had any man making such big moves in my life.
At the club, he pulled my hips into a very intimate hug. No man had ever made such bold moves in my life. Later, when I started to suspect that The Guy might have gotten involved and stirred up trouble, I saw a post on Dr. J's Facebook that said, "I’m a lover, not a fighter." That stuck with me, though I didn’t know exactly what had happened behind the scenes. But one thing was certain: Dr. J was the first real threat to The Guy, which made him a target. That’s where we were when the conflict entered the room, though I couldn’t see it at the time. I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but knowing The Guy, he had a knack for getting to people and spinning stories I’d never hear about. I invited the group over to my parents’ house for a barbecue, but Dr. J took off to the lake with a pageant queen. Already, I’d been dealing with his throngs of adoring women on his Facebook page, who swooped in anytime I tried to join the thoughtful discussions he started. To his credit, he handled it well.
We hit a snag when spiritual topics came up. I’d been having some incredible, nuanced discussions with my Cuban friend, but Dr. J started showing a different side. After getting my hopes up about his openness, I found myself on high alert. At his birthday party, he casually mentioned that his mom had been superstitious, but he himself was aligning with a particular philosophical strain among neuroscientists—one I fundamentally disagreed with.
Now, let me make one thing very clear: I despise love triangles. Even more, I hate being dragged into another woman’s jealous theatrics. Why can’t I just be left in peace to figure things out without someone else trying to insert herself into the equation? But instead, Dr. J handed me a front-row seat to Little Miss Beauty Queen’s antics. After ditching me to hang out with her at the lake, he disappeared to Burning Man, leaving me to deal with her ridiculous attempt at intimidation. She rolled up to a party in a BMW convertible, surrounded by a fan club of male admirers, and held court in a transparent bid to prove how popular she was. That was the first time I saw her in person—her caked-on makeup struggling to hide her pores—and I couldn’t muster an ounce of feeling intimidated. Apparently, she’d told Dr. J he was “the kind of guy she could fall in love with.” How nice for her.
Dr. J then made the ultimate misstep: he told me he’d never said he was interested in me. By this point, it was all starting to feel like a game of immaturity, and I was losing interest. He was several years younger than me, after all. But let’s not forget—this wasn’t something I chose. I didn’t decide to fall for him. He snuck under my skin, got into my head, and stayed there. I hadn’t sought him out or pursued him after the initial meeting; I was off chasing other romantic interests entirely.
Still, as I said earlier, this is a story for those of us who refuse to buy into the nonsense. By this point, I wasn’t frustrated or angry—I was just sitting back and observing. Watching how Dr. J handled his inconsistent behavior was far more interesting than anything else. I continued frequenting the club where we all hung out that year, where we were friends with one of the staff. One evening, while catching up with a tall, attractive coworker who was into one of my friends, I noticed Dr. J pacing back and forth, glancing in our direction—maybe trying to figure out if we were together?
Then came the moment that made me pause. I was chatting with one of our mutual friends, asking how his summer had been, when out of nowhere, he asked, “How are things with Dr. J?” It made me do a double take—only two people, besides Dr. J himself, even knew I called him that. This guy wasn’t one of them. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was probably the verbal equivalent of an eye-roll and a sigh. Whatever it was, it was enough for the mutual friend to nod knowingly and say, “Oh, did he give you some of his bullshit?” My response was something like, “Yeah, something like that.” (And yes, if you’re wondering, he’s a Gemini.)
After that, I didn’t see or hear much from Dr. J. He never managed to climb out of whatever hole he’d dug himself into. It was a shame. I’ll never know for sure if The Guy managed to spook him, or what that “lover, not a fighter” post was really about, but I figured if Dr. J could be scared off so easily, it was for the best.
As for Little Miss Beauty Queen? She didn’t stick around long, whatever that was about.
The moral of the story, kids, is this: don’t let a bully disrupt your life, your relationships, or anything else. Their only goal is control, and by giving in, you hand it to them. Don’t be like Dr. J.
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